Chapter 1: Rooftop Ultimatum

The night air on the rooftop was sharp and restless, the wind snapping at our clothes and swirling around us. The concrete beneath my feet was cold, and every step closer to the edge felt dizzying—the city sprawled below, a patchwork of neon and headlights, sirens echoing in the distance. The rooftop’s height made my stomach clench, and the hum of traffic far beneath us was both comforting and terrifying, like life itself was holding its breath.

I grabbed his hand tightly to stop him. My grip was desperate, fingers digging into his palm as if I could anchor him to the world by sheer force of will. My heart thudded against my ribs, the city lights blinking below us like a thousand warning signals. The roughness of his skin against mine reminded me of every moment we’d fought to stay together.

"Babe, I just bought a new Michael Kors purse, and the payments are gonna haunt me for five years on my credit card." I tried to make my voice light, teasing, but there was a raw edge underneath. I forced a little laugh, hoping it would shatter the tension that clung to the rooftop.

"Who else is gonna foot the bill if you bail on me?" I squeezed his hand again, my thumb brushing the back of his knuckles. The wind whipped my hair across my face, strands stinging my eyes, but I forced a shaky smile.

Suddenly, a barrage of floating comments flickered in the air, like a live social media stream only I could see:

*So the worst punishment for the villain isn’t dying, it’s having a wife like this.*

*I’m dying over here. The villain’s bankrupt—how’s he gonna pay off her purse?*

*Let him suffer through everything the main couple did before he checks out.*

*Why hasn’t the villain died yet?!*

*If the villain hadn’t forced the hero to move overseas, the heroine wouldn’t have been stuck waiting tables in a Jersey diner for five years. He deserves five years of pain first.*

I let my gaze drift away from the barrage, pretending not to notice the judgment. Determined, I kept acting spoiled toward Mason Drake. I tilted my head, letting my voice drip with sweetness, refusing to let go. My nails traced little circles on his wrist—a silent, desperate plea for him to stay.

Mason Drake slowly turned to look at me, disbelief coloring his voice: "Didn’t I just send you a hundred grand for living expenses before I went broke?" His brow furrowed, like he was still trying to make sense of how quickly everything had changed. The corners of his mouth twitched, caught between confusion and hurt.

I blinked innocently: "Oh, that money? I bought a vase with it." I shrugged, giving him the wide-eyed look I knew drove him crazy. I tried to sound casual, but my cheeks burned.

Maybe from standing in the wind too long, his voice was dry and shaky: "...A vase?" He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. His lips parted, then pressed together again, searching for words.

"I think it’s from the Colonial era." I tried to sound knowledgeable, but my voice went up at the end, almost apologetic. I brushed my hair out of my eyes, glancing at him for approval.

"You’re not mad, are you?" I gently shook his hand. My eyes searched his face, waiting for a sign that he’d forgive me, that he’d stay.

Mason rubbed his forehead and looked up at the sky, unable to put his suffering into words. He let out a long, heavy sigh, shoulders slumping, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The wind on the rooftop picked up, making his white shirt whip loudly around his frame.

He looked like he might collapse any second. His stance was shaky, his jaw clenched, as if holding himself together by a thread.

I ran my fingers through my hair and blinked at him: "Honey, come down already. It’s your birthday today, and I even got you a present!" I tried to sound cheerful, hoping to coax him down from the edge. My voice was soft, coaxing, a little sing-song.

Thinking it over, I added: "Here are a few hints—" "Uniform, animal, yellow." I grinned, hoping to spark his curiosity, nudging his shoulder playfully.

Mason looked a little surprised: "...You got me a present?" His eyebrows shot up, a flicker of hope breaking through the gloom. After all, he’d given me countless gifts, but this was the first time I’d ever given him one.

A pause hung between us, filled with the distant honking and city noise. Mason glanced at the cars speeding below, then finally stepped down from the rooftop. The tension in his shoulders eased, and he let out a shaky breath, feet heavy on the metal stairs. I followed close behind, relief flooding through me.