The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 55

**Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by Eli Dane Crest**

**Chapter 55**

**Gemma**

“Wow,” I exclaim, a hint of disbelief coloring my tone. “I thought you were staunchly against social media. Seems like I misjudged you. That was quite the quick response.”

“Just answer the question,” he replies, his voice laced with an icy, simmering anger that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s this particular tone that truly unsettles me, reminding me of the depths of his character I often try to ignore.

In that moment, I am starkly aware of the reality of who I’m dealing with.

A drug smuggler. An arms dealer. A cold-blooded killer.

A man who has always gotten his way… but not with me. Not anymore.

“Yes. I sold the ring,” I admit, the fatigue evident in my voice. “I thought you’d be ecstatic. After all, you told her to get something she liked. That ring? She adores it. Always has.”

“Why on earth would I be thrilled?” he shoots back, his frustration palpable. “I got that ring for you. I had it crafted specifically for you.”

A ring designed to mirror the sky, a constant reminder of what he truly cherishes? It’s a painful realization that he holds things in higher regard than me.

Cassian didn’t have that ring made for me. He wouldn’t even know what kind of ring would suit me—though, ironically, he was close with that choice.

But he never truly knew me, so how could that ring ever be intended for me?

The truth is, I had never even been his friend. That’s the crux of our predicament. Genuine romances, the ones that flourish, are built upon trust and mutual affection.

I’ve always found something to admire in Cassian. From the very first moment our paths crossed, I enjoyed his company, relished our conversations, and appreciated his humor, his sharp wit, and his unwavering sense of duty and loyalty.

Deep down, I even thrill at the danger that surrounds him.

Yet, it has always been a one-sided affair, and one-sided relationships are destined for failure.

“Our marriage is over, Cassian,” I declare, my voice firm, trying to assert control over the situation.

“In a year,” he counters, his tone defiant. “Not yet.”

“Yes, yet!” I retort, exasperation bubbling up within me. “I’m done with this. With you. I don’t give a damn about our agreement, Cassian! Just sign the ridiculous papers and let’s end this! Why do you relish torturing me when you could simply divorce me tomorrow and pursue the woman you truly desire?”

With that, I sever the call, my heart racing.

His phone rings again, and I ignore it.

He tries once more, but I dismiss the call without hesitation.

Another attempt comes through, and I finally block his number.

The silence that follows is almost blissful.

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