(Rosalind's POV)

I let out a cold laugh. "Honey, you left your bride at the altar to chase a psycho. You are the one ruining the firm's image, I am doing my best to save the situation! What did you expect? Have hundreds of guests sitting there waiting for you to return from playing the hero?"

"I-" He faltered. He wasn't used to me fighting back.

I opened my mouth to tell him about my resignation. About the breakup.

"Asher..." A weak, pained moan came through the speaker. "It hurts... I need you... don't leave me..."

"I'm busy right now," Asher said curtly. "We'll talk later."

Then the call hung up immediately, and I slammed my phone down on the desk.

I took a deep breath, fighting the stinging sensation behind my eyes. I turned my gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Outside, the afternoon sun bathed Manhattan in gold. The streets below were a river of yellow cabs and black sedans, the pulse of the city beating steadily.

I still remember five years ago, our Smith & Black Law started right here in this small office.

Even for an office as small as this, the rent was only affordable because I sold my only apartment. I remember that day, my hands trembling, filled with hope as I handed the keys to Asher.

"How about 'Smith & Black'?" I had asked, my eyes shining as I looked at him. "It sounds powerful, doesn't it?"

Asher had stood by this very window."Whatever," he had said, his voice flat. "You decide the small things."

I didn't care about his tone then. I was too in love. I had thrown my arms around him, burying my face in his chest.

"I love it," I whispered.

He stiffened immediately. His hands didn't wrap around me. Instead, he gripped my shoulders and pushed me away.

"Rosalind," he said coldly, smoothing his suit jacket where I had wrinkled it. "I don't like being touched in a workspace. Keep it professional."

I had laughed it off. I grabbed his arm again, swinging it playfully. "I promise, Asher. I'm going to make you the top lawyer in New York. You just wait."

"As long as you're happy," he had replied.

I kept my promise. He became the star.

But he lied. My happiness never mattered to him.

I turned away from the window. My office was cluttered with five years of life. Photos, awards, legal journals. They weren't just objects; they were pieces of my soul that I had poured into this firm.

I grabbed a cardboard box and started sweeping picture frames into it. Glass clattered against cardboard.

Outside my glass walls, the paralegals and junior associates typed furiously, heads down. The office was quiet.Their unnatural expressions revealed that they had already heard about the wedding. But Asher was a tyrant in the office, and no one dared to whisper while he was technically still the boss.

I picked up the box, ready to walk out forever.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

I looked at the screen. It was the private nurse for Martha Smith, Asher's mother.

"Miss Black!" The nurse's voice was frantic. "It's Mrs. Smith. She's had a heart attack. We're at Mount Sinai. I can't reach Mr. Smith!"

My grip on the box tightened. Even after everything, she was an elderly woman.

"I'm coming," I said.

I burst into the VIP ward, my chest heaving.

"Martha?" I gasped, pushing the door open.

I expected to see monitors beeping, doctors rushing, a frail woman fighting for her life.

Instead, Martha Smith was sitting upright in bed. She was watching a late-night talk show on the wall-mounted TV and crunching loudly on a green apple.

She looked perfectly fine.

She turned her head and saw me. Her expression soured instantly.

"Finally," she snapped, swallowing a chunk of apple. "Where is my son?"

I stood frozen in the doorway, trying to catch my breath. "The nurse said... heart attack..."

"It was just palpitations," she dismissed with a wave of her hand. Then her eyes narrowed. "Rosalind, have you seen the news? 'Groom Flees, Bride Cancels Wedding.' We are the laughingstock of the Upper East Side!"

I stared at her. "Asher left me at the altar, Martha. Because Aurora is going to jump off the building."

She pointed a finger at me. "Well? Aurora is just being a bit emotional. Don't just stand there. Call the PR team. Draft a statement saying it was a medical emergency. Spin it. We need to protect the firm's reputation."

I looked at this woman. For five years, I had brought her gifts, paid for her treatments, and tolerated her snide remarks. I thought she was just traditional.

I realized now she was just cruel.

"I'm not doing that," I said quietly.

"Excuse me?" Martha glared. "You are his fiancée. It is your job to support him."

"I am not his fiancée," I said, my voice steady. "We are done."

I turned to the nurse, who was shrinking into the corner.

"I broke up with Asher," I told her. "Don't call me for Smith family matters ever again."

I spun on my heel and walked out.

I didn't make it five steps down the corridor before I ran into a wall of black fabric.

I looked up. Asher stood there, still wearing his tuxedo from the wedding. Beside him, clinging to his arm like a vine, was Aurora.

Asher looked down at me. There was no guilt in his eyes. Only annoyance.

"Why are you still here?" he asked.

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"The PR department has been trying to reach you for an hour," Asher said, checking his watch. "The press release needs your signature. Why haven't you handled the media fallout yet?"

I almost laughed. He didn't ask how I was. He didn't apologize. He just wanted me to clean up his mess.

To him, I wasn't a partner. I wasn't a lover. I was just a Crisis Manager.

"Rosalind..." Aurora's voice was a soft whimper.

She was wearing a white dress and leaned into Asher, looking up at me with wide, tear-filled eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she sniffled. "This is all my fault. Please don't blame Asher. I was just so scared..."

It was a performance worthy of Broadway.

Asher softened immediately. He placed a hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. "It's not your fault, Rory. You were unwell."

He looked back at me, his face hardening. "Well? Go to the office. Fix this."

"I'm not going to the office," I said, staring him dead in the eye. "I quit."

Asher frowned. "Stop being childish. We have contracts-"

I tried to step around them.

Asher's hand shot out and clamped around my wrist. His grip was painful.

"Let go," I hissed.

"Asher..." Aurora suddenly gasped. Her knees buckled.

She slumped against him, her hand fluttering to her forehead. "I... I feel dizzy. Everything is spinning."

He caught her, panic flashing across his face. "Rory? What's wrong?"

"I think... I need blood," she whispered weakly. "My condition..."

My stomach turned.

Aurora had a rare blood type. P-null phenotype or something equally obscure. And by a cruel twist of fate, I was a match.

For years, Asher had used this coincidence. Whenever Aurora had a 'spell,' I was summoned. I had given pints of my blood to keep his childhood friend healthy, thinking I was being supportive.

Asher looked at Aurora's pale face, then snapped his head up to look at me. "Go to the nurse's station," he ordered. "Register for a donation. Aurora needs a transfusion."