(Rosalind's POV)

The stylist pinned the final curl of my hair, and I stood up, smoothing the silk of my custom gown. I took a deep breath, pushing down the nerves, and threw open the dressing room door. I wanted to see Asher's face. I wanted to see that rare spark in his cold eyes.

The lounge was empty.

"Where is he?" I asked, my smile faltering.

Asher's makeup artist shifted on her feet, avoiding my gaze. "Mr. Smith... he took a call. Some woman was crying and screaming that he couldn't get married. She said she'd jump off the building if he went through with it." She pointed a trembling finger toward the balcony doors. "He went out there."

I felt the blood drain from my face. I turned back to the mirror, checking my lipstick with mechanical precision. Outside the door, two waiters were whispering loud enough for me to hear.

"Crazy, right? Some woman's threatening to jump from the rooftop."

"Yeah, security's trying to talk her down."

I knew exactly who it was. Aurora Campbell. Asher's childhood friend. His constant shadow.

This was the ninety-ninth time Aurora had pulled this stunt. I stared at my reflection. My hazel eyes looked back, tired and dull. I was exhausted.

"Jump,"I thought. "Do it. Save us all the trouble."

Five years. I'd spent five years in this relationship, and I'd never felt like the girlfriend. I felt like the mistress.

Whenever Aurora cried, Asher dropped everything and ran to her.

But this time was supposed to be different. Asher had promised me. He'd looked me in the eyes and sworn that last time was the final time he'd deal with Aurora's drama.

I'd believed him. That's why I'd agreed to this wedding.

My patience was gone. This was his last chance.

I pushed open the heavy glass doors to the terrace. The wind whipped at my veil. Asher stood by the railing, his black tuxedo sharp against the gray skyline. He was on the phone.

"You won't do it, Aurora," he said, his voice flat, devoid of panic. "You don't have the guts."

He hung up.

He didn't run. He didn't rush to the elevator. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. He finally grew a brain, I thought. He knows she's acting.

Asher turned and saw me. His face remained expressionless.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

He offered his arm. I knew Asher had some kind of emotional detachment disorder. He struggled to connect with people, to feel empathy. But he was marrying me. That meant I was special to him. That meant something.

The organ music swelled. We walked down the aisle, the scent of white roses filling the air. Guests turned, smiling. We reached the altar. The priest opened his book.

Rrrring.

A harsh, piercing sound cut through the silence. It was the emergency phone in Asher's inner pocket. The private line only a handful of people knew.

"Asher," I whispered, gripping his arm. "Don't. We are saying our vows."

He didn't even look at me. He shook my hand off and pulled out the phone.

"Hello?" His expression shattered. Panic flooded his eyes. "I'm coming."

He shoved the phone into his pocket and turned away from the altar. "I have to go."

"Asher!"

The banquet hall erupted in gasps. I grabbed my heavy skirt and ran after him, blocking his path in the center of the aisle. I stared him down, fighting the sting of tears. I wouldn't cry. Not here.

"Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice trembling with suppressed rage.

"It's an emergency, Rosalind," he snapped, looking over my head toward the exit. "She's actually on the edge this time. I have to get her down."

"And the wedding?"

"Handle it," he ordered, as if speaking to a subordinate. "Calm the guests down. Explain to them."

I almost laughed. It was so absurd.

"Asher," I said, my voice dropping to a deadly calm. "If you walk out those doors right now, we are done. Think about it before you take another step."

"Stop being dramatic. Don't be unreasonable."He said impatiently.

He sidestepped me and ran. He didn't look back once.

I watched him go, and something clicked into place in my mind.

He thought he had complete control over me. He thought I'd forgive him like I always did. After all, I'd loved him enough to cut ties with my family. I'd always been so understanding, so accommodating.

I turned and walked back to the altar. The officiant stood frozen, clutching his book with wide eyes. I took the microphone from his trembling hands.

"Attention, everyone," I said. "Good news: the alcohol is on me tonight, so drink up. Bad news: the groom couldn't keep his legs still, even before God, and ran off to his old flame."

The room went dead silent.

"So," I continued, flashing a bright, sassy smile, "the wedding is canceled. Enjoy the champagne!"

I dropped the mic. Tomorrow, I'd be the laughingstock of New York high society. The Black family heiress who'd abandoned her fortune for a poor boy, only to be dumped at the altar.

Twenty minutes later, I was in jeans and a t-shirt.

"I'll wire the balance," I told the makeup artist, who looked like she wanted to hug me. "Don't worry about it."

I walked out the side door to catch my Uber. The street was gridlocked. Sirens wailed nearby.

And then I saw them.

Near the ambulance, Asher was holding her. Aurora. She was clinging to his lapel, sobbing, wiping her tears and snot all over his expensive tuxedo. And Asher... the man who claimed to have germaphobia, the man who flinched when I tried to hold his hand in public... he was hugging her tight. He was stroking her hair.

A wave of nausea hit me.

His "emotional detachment" and "germaphobia" were lies.He was a hypocrite. A liar.

I stood on the sidewalk and watched them with cold detachment.

No regret. No longing.

I turned away and climbed into my Uber, shutting them both out of my sight forever.

I went straight to Smith & Black Law, the firm we'd built together. The office was dark. I marched into Asher's office, sat at his computer, and typed out a single page.

Resignation Letter.

I signed it with a flourish and slammed it onto the center of his desk.

My phone rang. Asher.

"Rosalind!" His voice was angry. "What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you announce the wedding was cancelled? You didn't even discuss it with me! Do you have any idea what this does to the firm's image?"