The Don Tore Up Our Divorce (Gemma and Cassian) novel Chapter 477

Before Rain Touches Earth Memories Return With Gentle Warmth by E

Chapter 477

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Rehena’s POV

The door clicks shut, sealing us in the silent, expensive tomb of the conference room. Oliver’s praise for that woman still rings in my ears. Innovative. A new paradigm.

Fury, hot and corrosive, floods my veins. It needs a target.

My assistant shifts beside me, a nervous rustle. “Rehena, I-”

I don’t let him finish. I spin, my arm a whip. The crack of my palm against his cheek is shockingly loud in the quiet. His head snaps to the side.

He just stands there, hand rising to his reddening skin, eyes wide with shock. A man, stunned by a woman’s slap. Pathetic.

“Useless!” The word hisses out of me, icy and sharp. “Is this the standard of work I pay for?”

I can see the protest forming in his dumbfounded eyes. How was I supposed to know? I’m not a hacker. As if ignorance is an excuse. As if failure is ever acceptable.

You’re a blunt instrument,” I seethe, stepping closer until hé:37

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< Chapter 477

has to look down to meet my gaze. “You’re supposed to be an extension of my will, not a dead weight dragging me into the mud.”

He flinches. Good.

I let the silence stretch, letting the sting of the slap and the chill of my words sink in. My voice drops to a deadly calm. “If I lose this project because of your incompetence, you will clear your desk. Permanently.”

I don’t need an assistant. I need a weapon in my armoury. And he has just proven himself to be utterly, disappointingly dull.

Gemma’s POV

The moment I step out of the conference room, the sterile,

air–conditioned silence is a relief.

The lingering heat of Rehena’s glare seems to cling to my back, but I shake it off. I presented, and I won.

Now, I just want to find Cassian and get out of this place.

I’m making my way through the resort’s carpeted hallways that have been designed like a damn labyrinth, walking toward the grand lobby, when a figure turns the corner ahead.

Tall, familiar build, with a certain way of holding him. 16:37

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My steps falter. William?

I suddenly remember the events of the day before I left. I almost lost my life to someone who looked exactly like William, who tried to push the fireworks stand on top of me.

My hand tightens reflexively around the strap of my bag. I can’t take any more risks about my child.

I’m in Florisdale, thousands of miles from home. And yet, here he is.

He looks up, sees me, and stops. His expression shifts from distracted to genuine surprise. It takes him a second, then recognition dawns. He remembers I mentioned traveling.

We close the distance cautiously, meeting in the middle of the opulent hallway. “Gemma,” he says, his voice holding the same quiet, steady tone I remember. Not the violent snarl of his double.

“William,” I reply, my own voice carefully neutral. “This is… unexpected.”

“It is,” he agrees. We fall into step together, moving toward the lobby. The air between us is thick with unspoken history–not ours, but the shadow of his brother’s. We make stiff, polite small talk. He’s here for a culinary competition being hosted at the

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resort.

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“When does it start?” I ask, making conversation.

“In a couple of days.” He glances at me, his eyes earnest. “Good luck with it,” I offer, the words automatic.

Despite the familiar face, my guard is up, a wall of reinforced steel. The man who sent me to the hospital more than once has the same face. Moreover, now that I know he’s William’s half brother, there might be something hidden from me about their relationship, too.

He seems to sense my reservation. He stops walking for a moment, turning to face me more fully. “Gemma,” he says, his voice dropping, laced with a sincerity that feels real. “What happened before… I am so sorry. I had no idea. But if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t have been in that position. I will get to the bottom of it. I promise you, I will get an explanation.”

He tells me he’s been trying to track down his brother since he found out. Now that he’s here for the competition, he plans to confront him. “I’ve only known about him for twenty years,” he says, a flicker of old pain in his eyes, “but I won’t let someone who looks like me cause you harm.”

I give a slight, cautious nod. The logic is sound. I’m abroad, far from the usual battlegrounds. Maybe the immediate threat has nassed. But trust is a currency I’m out of.

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We enter the vast, sunlit lobby. Cassian is a coiled spring on one of the plush sofas. He sees me and jumps up, his face transforming from worry to relief. “All done? How did it-” His sentence dies as his gaze lands on William beside me.

In an instant, he’s between us, a human shield. His body language shifts into something primal and protective. He doesn’t even acknowledge William. “What do you want for dinner tonight?” he asks me, the question bizarrely domestic in the tense space.

I almost laugh. It’s so transparently a diversion. “What can you cook?” I counter, knowing the answer.

He hesiRennets, chagrined. “Point taken.”

William, witnessing this odd exchange, speaks up. “You’re settled here, then? For good?”

“Yes,” Cassian sRennets firmly, at the exact moment I say, “No, just temporarily.”

Our conflicting answers hang in the air. William’s face flushes with a faint, awkward embarrassment, as if he’s intruded on a private argument.

He clears his throat, looking directly at me, ignoring Cassian’s glare. “Gemma, I’ll be staying for the competition. If you… if you 5/7

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