(Rosalind's POV)

"Register for a donation. Aurora needs a transfusion."

I stared at him. He left me at the altar. He humiliated me before the entire city. And now, hours later, he was demanding I bleed for the woman he left me for?

I wasn't just a placeholder bride. I was a walking blood bank.

I laughed. "No," I said. I yanked my wrist out of his grip.

Asher looked stunned. "What did you say?"

"I said no. I'm not giving her my blood."

Asher's face darkened. He stepped closer, looming over me, using his height to intimidate. It was a tactic he used in court.

"Rosalind, stop this nonsense right now," he growled. "You know her condition. The hospital doesn't stock her type. If you don't give her a transfusion immediately, she could die."

He looked at me with total conviction, as if my refusal was a crime. As if my body belonged to him to distribute as he saw fit.

I looked at Aurora, peeking out from under her lashes to see if I would fold. I looked at Asher, the man I had wasted five years on.

A cold, beautiful clarity settled over me.

I curled my lips into a smile. It wasn't a nice smile.

"Then let her die."

(Asher's POV)

I stared at the woman in front of me, but it was as if I no longer recognized her; she had suddenly become a stranger.

Rosalind had always been gentle, compliant. Soft. No matter what I asked for, she would smile and agree. I knew better than anyone that she had a severe phobia of needles. Every time she saw a nurse approaching with a syringe, her face would drain of color. She would tremble uncontrollably. After a blood draw, she often needed an hour just to stop shaking.

Yet, for me, she had rolled up her sleeve countless times. She had given pint after pint for Aurora without a single complaint.

I looked into her hazel eyes. They used to be warm, filled with an adoration that bordered on worship. Now, they were cold. Ice cold.

My throat went tight. I took a step forward, trying to find the girl I knew.

"Then just..." I started.

(Rosalind's POV)

"Rosalind, what do you mean?" Aurora's shriek cut through the air like shattered glass. "Do you want me to die right here? How can you be so vicious?"

I looked down at Aurora. Her face was a masterpiece of calculated despair, tears tracking perfectly through her makeup.

I felt nothing. No pity. No anger. Just a dull recognition of her technique. She was a natural actress, always knowing exactly which button to press to trigger Asher's guilt.

"My mother is lying in a coma because she saved Asher!" Aurora sobbed, playing her ace card. "She gave everything for him, and you won't even give a little blood for me?"

Asher's hesitation vanished instantly. The mention of Linda-Aurora's mother-acted like a command code. His expression shifted from confusion to a heavy, burdened sense of duty.

He turned his head, avoiding my gaze. "Rosalind," he said, his voice dropping to a low, desperate plea. "I'm begging you. This is the last time. Aurora is in critical condition."

I looked at the man I had loved for five years. The scene was so absurd it was almost funny.

I didn't feel heartbroken. I didn't feel despair. I just felt a terrifying, crystalline clarity. I had wasted five years on a man who saw me as nothing more than a resource.

"The 'last time' was three pints ago, Asher," I said, letting out a dry, humorless laugh. "My veins aren't an open bar for your ex-girlfriend. If she's that desperate, I suggest you roll up your sleeve."

Asher frowned deeply. "When did you become so cold? This isn't you. You used to be warm. Kind."

"Maybe you never knew the real me," I replied.

Seeing that I wasn't bending, panic flared in Aurora's eyes.

"I'm going to die!" she screamed, clutching her chest. "Asher, you promised my mom you'd take care of me!"

"What's going on? What are you all arguing about?" Martha's voice came from behind me. I turned around to see her hospital room door open as she walked over aggressively.

She zeroed in on me immediately.

"Rosalind, why are you being so difficult?" she scolded, her voice sharp. "Asher is already stressed enough with the wedding cancellation. Why are you adding to his burden?"

"Correction, Martha," I cut her off. "Setting boundaries isn't 'making a fuss,' it's called self-preservation. You should try it sometime."

Martha blinked. She paused, clearly stunned that the docile Rosalind she knew had dared to talk back. She adjusted her cashmere shawl, regaining her haughty composure.

"It's just a little blood," she said dismissively. "It won't kill you. Don't forget, Aurora's mother is in a coma because she saved Asher. The Smith family owes them."

"You owe them. Asher owes them," I said, staring her down. "I don't owe anyone a damn thing."

Asher stepped forward, looking torn. "Mom, I already told the nurse to check the regional blood bank. Maybe-"

"How can you say that!" Aurora interrupted him, grabbing his arm. She looked up at him with wide, watery eyes. "Do you only care about Rosalind? Do you not care if I live or die?"

Asher's mouth snapped shut. He looked helpless.

Martha sighed loudly. She turned back to me, her tone shifting to a patronizing form of pleading.

"Rosalind, do it for me. Just this once. You two are going to get married eventually. Don't make the relationship so strained."