Chapter 19-Cutting Ties #2
"Because you don't have to." His voice dropped.
"You've spent years handling everything alone.
Proving you don't need anyone. Building walls so high nobody can reach you.
" He took a breath. "I'm not asking you to tear them down.
I'm just asking you to let me stand here. In case you change your mind."
The words hit somewhere deep enough to hurt. Because part of me wanted to believe him. Wanted to stop checking the locks, filing away photographs, and pretending I was fine when I was shattering.
But the fear was louder than the wanting.
"I need to get ready for Morrison," I said. Not an answer. Just an excuse.
Richard nodded. Stepped back. "I'll wait."
I walked past him to my bedroom. Closed the door. Stood there with my hand on the knob and tried to breathe.
11:26 AM.
I needed to shower. Needed to change into something Morrison-appropriate. Needed to figure out what I'd say when he fired the firm. Because that was what this meeting was. Morrison was bringing corporate counsel. The emergency timing. Moving it to his office instead of ours.
Morrison was cutting ties.
The only question was whether I fought to keep him or let him go gracefully. Whether I defended myself against allegations I knew were false or acknowledged that his reputation mattered more than the truth. Whether Sunshine Blaire could even materialize when I was that hollow inside.
Instead, I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the closed door.
Richard was on the other side. Waiting. The same way he had been waiting through every wall I built, every time I pushed him away, and every moment I chose control over vulnerability.
And maybe that was the problem.
Maybe I had spent so long waiting for people to leave that I never learned how to let someone stay.
My phone buzzed.
Charlotte: Just talked to Morrison's attorney. He's bringing corporate counsel to the meeting. This isn't good.
My stomach dropped.
Corporate counsel meant Morrison wasn't just firing the firm. He was preparing to defend against any liability claim. Distancing himself legally from the affair allegations. Three years of work. Gone.
I texted back: What are my chances?
The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
Charlotte: Of keeping Morrison? Twenty percent. Of keeping your license? Sixty if we move fast. Forty if this drags out. Twenty if your father's involvement becomes public.
She didn't have to finish the sentence. I could do the math.
My father's protection had just cost me forty percent of my chances.
I set the phone down. Walked to my closet. Pulled out the charcoal suit I had worn to the Hendricks trial. The one I wore the day Richard called me out in that elevator for pretending.
The day I walked away, I was terrified of what he made me feel.
I got dressed mechanically. Buttoned the blouse. Zipped the skirt. Fastened the jacket. Stared at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked hollow. Empty. Like the person staring back wasn't really me at all. Just another performance. Another mask.
11:58 AM.
I walked back to the living room. Richard was on the couch. Laptop open. The same position he took every morning since he moved in. Working. Like it was just another day. Like my world wasn't ending.
He looked up when I appeared. Closed the laptop. Set it aside. "You look ready," he said.
I almost laughed. "I look empty."
"You look like someone who refused to sign a false statement even when it would have saved her career." His voice went low. "That's not empty. That's courage."
The word felt wrong.
"It's not courage if I don't have a choice."
"You had a choice. You chose truth."
"And now I'm about to lose everything anyway."
Richard stood. Crossed to where I was standing by the coffee table. Stopped two feet away. "Not everything," he said.
I wanted to believe him. But belief was what got me here. Belief was what made me vulnerable enough to shatter.
"I need to finish prepping," I said.
I sat down. Stared at my laptop screen. What did you say when a client fired you for something you didn't do? How did you defend yourself against fabricated evidence without sounding defensive? The questions circled, but no answers came.
Behind me, Richard was silent. Not pushing. Not hovering. Just there.
"I can do this alone," I said without looking up.
"I know."
He said it and didn't fill the silence after.
12:20 PM.
"Blaire."
I didn't look up from the contracts.
"You're allowed to fall apart." The words landed without softening. He meant them.
"I'm fine."
"You've checked the lock three times. You haven't scrolled through the Morrison file in twenty minutes. And you've been staring at the same paragraph long enough to memorize it."
I looked down. He was right. The cursor hadn't moved.
"I just need to focus."
"Blaire—"
"I'm fine, Richard." My voice came out sharper than I meant. "I just need to prepare for this meeting and figure out how to convince Morrison I'm not the attorney who slept with her client and?—"
"You're not."
"I know that. You know that. But Morrison's bringing corporate counsel. Which means he's already decided I'm a liability. Which means this meeting is just a formality before he fires the firm."