The days after the latest updates on Rohan Kapoor’s financial decline brought a strange mix of relief and heavier introspection. I found myself waking earlier than usual, standing at the penthouse windows before the cardamom espresso ritual even began, watching the city wake up below. Rohan’s empire was crumbling in real time, with reports of emergency board meetings, asset sales, and desperate attempts to secure new financing. Part of me felt justice had been served. He had tried to destroy our stability by leaking private pain. Yet another part of me, the one that still carried guilt from my own messages to him, wondered if we had gone too far. Had my moment of weakness contributed to a man’s complete downfall? The thought twisted inside me alongside the looming reality of Isabella’s pre
