Jump For Me

Ruth, jump from the roof above the 45th floor, and I'll help you.

Years later, when I had nowhere left to turn, I begged my ex for a lifeline. He pointed to the rooftop. He gave me exactly one choice.

He thought I was manipulating him. Fishing for pity. He didn't know...

That day, I actually jumped.

After I died? Thats when he lost his mind.

Chapter 1

Five years. Thats how long it took to see Conrad again. My brain didn't just stall. It short-circuited.

Conrad was walking into the General Hospital with his girlfriend for pre-wedding fertility assessments.

And me? I was in the trenches of the check-in line, locked in a verbal death match with a middle-aged line-cutter named Clyde. I was screaming about line etiquette while Clyde was spitting entitlement, yelling that I had no respect for my elders.

The guy was fifty, tops, and looked spry enough to run a marathon. People were pointing and whispering, looking at me like I was the problem. Like I was the unhinged woman making a scene.

Usually, Id fold. Id swallow the grievance. But today? My mood was already in the gutter. I wasn't backing down. I was loud. I was messy.

I was just about to scream for a manager when I looked up and saw him.

Conrad.

Five years had erased the cocky, sun-soaked boy I once knew. Now, he was wrapped in a bespoke suitexpensive, cold, untouchable.

The girl on his armBeatricehad wavy hair, porcelain skin, and looked like she was born yesterday. She clung to his arm, voice soft and shy as she asked the front desk, "Excuse me, which department handles pre-wedding fertility assessments?"

The nurse paused on her way to quell my riot. "Gynecology and bloodwork for the bride-to-be. And the groom usually gets a standard panel too."

Beatrice blushed and nodded. The nurse finally reached me, shooing Clyde to the back of the line. He grumbled something nasty under his breath, but I didn't hear it.

The noise of the hospital faded into white static. My limbs turned to ice. My mind went blank. I didn't even realize I was staring, but I was. I was locked on Conrad.

Then, he saw me.

His gaze met mine. Flat. Indifferent. Like looking at a stranger. Like he didn't remember a thing.

Beatrice sensed the shift and tilted her head. "What's wrong? A friend?"

Conrad pulled his eyes away. When he looked down at her, the ice melted into pure tenderness. "Just a classmate from back in the day," he said. "We weren't close."

We weren't close.

Beatrice nodded, casting one last curious glance my way.

Reality snapped back like a rubber band. Humiliation flooded my veins. I jerked my head away, desperate to break the connection.

Conrad squeezed her hand. "It's lunchtime. Let's go eat. We'll try the walk-in line again this afternoon."

My face felt like it was being pressed against a hot stovetop. Thank God for the chaos of the hospital lobby. I shrank into the crowd, trying to disappear.

I stood there, body rigid, frozen in place. Until a white coat approached.

Reid.

Chapter 2

A hand landed on my shoulder. Heavy. Grounding.

"Grab Ralph and follow me. You're never getting seen this morning at this rate."

Reid didn't wait for an answer. He steered me away from the gawking crowd, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he pulled me into a quiet corner. "I'll figure it out. Let me handle it."

The fog in my brain finally lifted. I nodded, stammering out a breathless thank you before walking back to the metal benches.

Ralph was sitting there, shoulders slumped, his face the color of wet ash. He looked like a child waiting for a scolding outside the principal's office, hands fidgeting in his lap.

I forced a smile, plastering it on thick. "Morning slots are booked solid," I lied, keeping my tone light. "But Reid? Hes pulling some strings. Bypassing the waitlist entirely."

Ralph stood up nicely stiffly. He licked his lips that were cracked and dry. "Ruth... maybe we skip a session? Cut back a little?"

His voice trembled. "Its... it makes me feel worse. Too much treatment."

He was lying. It wasn't the pain. It was the price tag.

Kidney failure. That was the monster eating him alive. Dialysis two, sometimes three times a week, plus the cocktail of meds. Every session burned through a chunk of cash we didn't have.

He was sick. He couldn't work. He knew I was drowning. But the disease was a beast. Skipping treatments meant agony. It meant dying faster.

I gripped his arm hard. "No. You listen to the doctor. Period."

I looked him dead in the eye, voice stern. "Im about to close a massive contract. Once the ink is dry, I get promoted to Director."

I scoffed, waving a hand dismissively. "The co-pay for a session? That won't even cover my dinner tab soon."

Lies. Even with the promotion, the raise would barely keep our heads above water. But at least... at least I wouldn't have to beg strangers for loans anymore.

Reid stepped in. He took Ralph's other arm, his smile easy and reassuring. "Just focus on getting better, Ralph. Ruth is a shark at the office. Shes got the money handled. You don't need to worry about a thing."

Ralph looked at me. The guilt in his eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of pride. "My girl," he whispered. "Always been a fighter."

We got the paperwork sorted and Ralph was hooked up to the machine in the ward. It was pushing 1:00 PM.

My stomach growled, reminding me I hadn't eaten. I headed down to the cafeteria to grab something for us. The elevator doors dinged open on the first floor.

I stepped outand hit a wall. A wall in a bespoke suit.

Conrad.

Beatrice was gone. It was just him. He loomed over me, eyes cold. Like shards of ice.

His voice dripped with sarcasm. Sharp. Lethal. "Congratulations."

He tilted his head, studying my face with a cruel smirk. "So, you and the good doctor finally made it official? Happily ever after?"

My palms slicked with sweat instantly. Panic clawed at my throat. I tried to sidestep him. Tried to run.

Five years. It had been five years since we crashed and burned, and I still couldn't look him in the eye. I still couldn't string two sentences together in front of him. Every memory of us was a wound that refused to heal.

Seeing him now? It was like ripping a scab off a raw nerve. Violent. Bloody.

Pain shot from my scalp to my toes. A freezing, paralyzing ache.

Chapter 3

Conrads hand snapped around my bicep. A vice grip. He wasnt letting go.

"Where are you going, Ruth? Guilty conscience finally caught up with you? Can't even summon the courage to look me in the eye?"

My blood ran cold. I clawed at his fingers, desperate to pry them off. My voice betrayed me, trembling in the sterile hallway air. "Conrad, we're done. Let go. Have some dignity."

He froze. Then, a dark, jagged laugh ripped from his throat.

"Dignity? You're talking to me about dignity?" His eyes narrowed, razor-sharp. "Ruth, where do you get the nerve?"

I wrenched my arm free. I didn't walk away; I scrambled. I stumbled blindly down the corridor, legs heavy, breath hitching. I didn't stop until my lungs burned and I was floors away.

I leaned against a cold wall, gasping, and glanced back. The hallway was empty. He didn't follow.

He was right. I was the last person on earth allowed to preach about dignity. Five years ago, when Conrad loved me more than anything, I destroyed him.

I ghosted him for a month. Conrad went nuclear. He tore the city apart looking for me, terrifying everyone we knew.

Until the video dropped.

It hit the campus socials like a bomb. A ten-second clip. Me. In bed. Wrapped around another man.

My face was clearblissed out, eyes adoring, arms draped around the guys neck. The man? Just a blurry profile. The mods took it down fast, but the damage was permanent. Screenshots live forever.

The rumor mill churned instantly: Ruth wasn't just cheating; she was selling herself. An escort. A sugar baby.

Conrad refused to believe it. He fought anyone who whispered my name. Until I resurfaced a month later.

And I brought Reid with me.

I stood in front of Conrad. The silence between us was heavy enough to crush bones. Conrads eyes were bloodshot, his jaw trembling with suppressed rage.

"Ruth. Explain. Now."

I didn't explain. I pulled a marriage certificate out of my bag.

"I'm sorry. Its been Reid for years."

The lie tasted like ash in my mouth, but I forced it out. "I used you, Conrad. Thanks for the help getting into college. And thanks for giving up that fellowship slot. Reid really appreciates it."

Conrad looked like hed been shot. He stood rooted to the spot, unblinking. He stared at me, waiting for the punchline. He didn't even look at the certificate.

Slowly, he raised his hand. Violence flashed in his eyesa storm of fury Id never seen before.

I flinched, bracing for the impact. It never came.

His hand hovered in the air, shaking violently. Then, it landed softly on top of my head. A tear escaped, tracking through the anger on his face.

His voice was a broken whisper, laced with pure venom. "You're cold, Ruth. Stone cold."

He dropped his hand. "Don't you ever let me see you again."

Chapter 4

I got Ralph home after dialysis. The machine drains him, but it drains me too. Just watching the life get sucked out and pumped back in.

I called in sick for two days. I needed to be there if he crashed.

The next morning, my phone buzzed. It was a colleague. Her voice dripped with that special kind of office toxicityfake concern wrapped around a jagged edge of glee.

"Ruth, oh my god, tell me you know already. Kayla poached your whale."

My stomach dropped. I had one major account. One. The contract was negotiated, the terms set. It just needed a signature. That signature was my ticket to Director. It was my safety net.

"What?"

"She stole the Zale account, Ruth. It's done."

I didn't hang up. I just ran. I threw on clothes and sprinted to the office building, bursting into the lobby just as the elevator doors slid open.

Kayla walked out. She was clinging to Conrads arm, beaming like shed just won the lottery.

She spotted me and didn't even blink. She pouted, her voice sickeningly sweet. "Oh, Ruth! I am so sorry. Conrad took me to dinner last night, and Mr. Zale was there. We just got to talking, and well... Mr. Zale insisted on signing with me. You know how it is."

She shrugged. Oops.

I looked at Conrad. He wore a bespoke suit and a look of absolute indifference. He let out a cold, hollow chuckle. "Why apologize, Kayla? Business is a contact sport. You win some, you lose some."

The blood roared in my ears. My vision blurred at the edges.

"Win?" I stepped forward, voice trembling. "Is that what we're calling it? Or did you secure that signature on a mattress?"

Kayla gasped, feigning shock, but Conrad cut in before she could speak. His eyes raked over me. Dismissive. Bored.

"If you had the talent for it, Ruth, maybe you would have closed the deal yourself."

"I don't want your kind of talent!" I spat, fists clenched so hard my nails cut into my palms.

"No?" Conrad smirked. "Then why are you standing here making a scene?"

Kayla giggled, tightened her grip on his bicep, and they brushed past me toward the exit.

Desperation is a dangerous drug. I spun around, ripped my phone from my pocket, and aimed the camera.

Click. Click. Click.

"Conrad!" I shouted.

He stopped and turned slowly.

"Does Beatrice know about your late-night business dinners?" I held up the phone, hand shaking. "Does she know you're handing out contracts to your side piece?"

I was cornered. Ralph needed meds. The debt collectors were circling. I needed that promotion. I knew men like Conrad. They care about image above all else.

"You ruined my life," I hissed. "Fix this, or these pictures go viral. I'll blast them all over social media and send them to TMZ."

Conrad didn't flinch. He smiled. A slow, predatory curve of the lips. "Is that right?"

Suddenly, my hand was empty.

Someone had come up behind me. A shadow in a grey suit. Vance. Conrads attorney.

He held my phone in one hand and his own in the other. He had recorded the entire interaction. He tapped the screen of my phone, scrolling through the photos Id just taken, his expression bored.

"Ms. Ruth. Unauthorized surveillance? Thats messy. But extortion?"

He looked up, eyes dead behind wire-rimmed glasses. "Thats a felony. Blackmail. Coercion. Depending on the amount you're trying to leverage, you're looking at three to five years in federal prison. Aggravated circumstances could push it to ten."

He waved his phone. "I have the threat recorded. Witnesses present. Intent established."

Vance stepped closer, towering over me. "So, Ms. Ruth. Should I call the cops, or would you prefer to turn yourself in?"

The air left my lungs. My knees buckled.

Conrad watched me unravel, that amused glint never leaving his eyes. "Well? Not going to deny it?"

He wasn't bluffing. If I went to the station... if they booked me... Ralph. He needed care. He needed me home tonight. I couldn't disappear for an hour, let alone a weekend in a holding cell.

I was trapped.

Chapter 5

I folded. The adrenaline crashed, leaving me hollow.

"I... I was just talking. Blowing off steam. I didn't mean it."

Conrads smile vanished. The playfulness evaporated, replaced by a scorching, heavy gaze.

"Ruth. Were adults now." He leaned in, voice low. "Adults pay the price for every word that comes out of their mouths."

I knew he wasn't talking about the photos. He was talking about five years ago.

I love you. Im yours.

Thank you. Im sorry.

He was collecting the debt on those words.

Conrad got into the car with Kayla. The engine purred, and they were gone.

Vance stayed behind. He made the call.

Twenty minutes later, I was in the back of a squad car. At the precinct, the charges were read.

Count one: Unauthorized surveillance.

Count two: Extortion.

The extortion charge was pending investigation. But the surveillance? That got me booked and held without bail pending arraignment. The cell door clanged shut.

By evening, the silence was suffocating. My phone was confiscated. Ralph was alone. If he collapsed... if the uremia spiked... no one would know. He would die on that rental floor while I sat here.

Panic clawed at my chest. I clung to the bars, tears streaming down my face as I flagged down a passing officer.

"Please. You have to call him. Call Conrad."

My voice cracked, hysterical. "I can explain everything. My dad is home alone. Hes sick. He can't be by himself. Please."

It took an hour of begging. Finally, the officer sighed and dialed the number.

It took Conrad two hours to show up. He didn't rush.

When he finally walked into the interview room, the air shifted. He smelled like her. A cloying mix of floral perfume and musk.

And there it was. A smudge of red on his white collar. Lipstick? Or something else?

My stomach churned. I jerked my gaze away, staring at the metal table. Shame burned the back of my neck. I clenched my hands together to stop the shaking.

"I was wrong," I whispered. "Im sorry. I shouldn't have taken the photos."

Conrad sat down opposite me. He didn't speak. His eyes dropped to my wrist.

I was wearing a thick bracelet. Underneath it lay the jagged, silver scars. The map of my breakdown. The tangible proof of the severe depression that had nearly swallowed me whole years ago.

I instinctively yanked my hand under the table, covering the wrist. "Just let me go," I pleaded, urgency bleeding into my voice. "Tell me what you want. Anything. Just let me go home."

Conrads expression was unreadable. "Home? To where?"

I paused, confused by the question, but desperate enough to answer. "The rental. With my dad. His health... it's been bad lately."

Conrad let out a short, cruel laugh. "Still renting? I thought the good doctor would have bought you a love nest by now."

I went silent.

Conrad leaned forward, his eyes locking onto mine. Dangerous. "Ruth. If you prefer the hospitality of a jail cell, keep lying to me."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, to tell him the truth about Reid, about everything. But I stopped.

What was the point? He was engaged. Beatrice was waiting. He had moved on. Drag up the past now? It would just look like another manipulation. Another lie.

I was too tired to fight. Too tired to spin stories. I slumped in the chair, defeated. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.

Finally, Conrad stood up. He adjusted his cuffs, looking down at me with cold indifference.

"Let's go." He turned toward the door. "My stomach is killing me. Cook me a decent meal, and I'll drop the charges."

Chapter 6

I didn't have a choice. I stood up and followed him.

Conrad smoothed things over with the officersa flash of a smile, a firm handshake, a "just a misunderstanding between exes." He dropped the charges.

He also kept my phone.

He walked out of the precinct with it in his hand, and he didn't hand it back when we got into his car. He didn't hand it back when we walked into his penthouse. I let it go. He didn't know the passcode. It was just a brick of glass and metal to him.

Conrad walked into the living room and collapsed onto the leather sofa. He tossed my phone onto the coffee table with a careless thud.

He sprawled out, closing his eyes. King of the castle.

"Cook."

One word. An order. The command hit me like a physical blow.

For a second, the years dissolved. I was back in our college apartment. We used to play this game, but back then, the roles were reversed. I was the one demanding snacks at 2:00 AM, and he was the one dragging himself to the kitchen, grumbling but smiling.

He used to spoil me rotten. He pulled all-nighters just to organize my study notes so we could get into the same university. He gave up his fellowshiphis dream of studying abroadbecause he caught me crying over the thought of long-distance.

That spot... that spot went to Reid.

I shook the memory off and looked at Conrad. He was curled slightly on the sofa, one arm draped over his stomach.

He wasn't just being a jerk. He was in pain. Id noticed it in the carthe grey tint to his skin, the sheen of sweat on his forehead. Hereditary gastric issues. Hed had a delicate stomach since we were kids and needed bland, warm food to settle it.

"I need to get groceries," I said.

He waved a hand dismissively. He knew I wasn't going to run. Not while he held my phone hostage.

I went to the nearest high-end market. I bought rice and specific herbs.

I made a slow-cooked congee and a soothing bone broth. It was the only thing that worked for him. Years of separation, and yet my body still remembered his prescription.

It wasn't a quick fix. The congee needed to simmer until the grains burst and turned creamy. The soup needed time to extract the healing properties.

I spent three hours in his kitchen. The rhythmic chopping and the low hum of the stove were hypnotic.

It was nearly midnight when the aroma finally filled the room. Conrad wandered in. He leaned against the doorframe, watching me stir the pot.

"Taking your sweet time, Ruth," he drawled, voice thick with amusement. "Trying to drag this out so you have an excuse to spend the night?"

Heat flooded my cheeks. I gripped the ladle tighter, flustered. "I... I just wanted to make sure it was done right. Are you hungry? I can make something faster to hold you over."

"Not hungry."

He pushed off the doorframe and walked back to the living room. His mood seemed to have lifted.

But twenty minutes later, when I carried the tray out, the temperature in the room had dropped. He was sitting on the sofa again, face like stone. A doga sleek, well-groomed breed I didn't recognizewas sitting at his feet.

I set the bowls on the dining table. The steam curled into the air.

Conrad stood up. The dog trotted after him, nails clicking on the hardwood floor.

Chapter 7

He walked to the dining table. Without a word, he grabbed the tureen of herbal broth.

He lifted it. And dumped the entire thing into the pot of simmering congee.

Splash.

"No!" My voice cracked, sharp with panic. "You have to drink them separateyou can't mix"

The words died in my throat. He knew that. I used to make this for him three times a week. He knew the protocol better than anyone.

Conrad ignored me. He grabbed a pair of chopsticks, shoved them into the pot, and swirled the mixture violently. Three hours of labor. Three hours of precise chopping, skimming, and simmering. Reduced to brown sludge in three seconds.

He picked up the pot. Clang. He dropped it onto the floor.

He whistled, beckoning the dog. "Here. Eat."

The dog trotted over, tail wagging. It stuck its snout into the pot. Sniffed. Then recoiled. The strong, bitter scent of the medicinal herbs was too much. The dog sneezed, turned its head, and walked away.

Conrad looked at me. His smile didn't reach his eyes. It was a razor blade disguised as a grin.

"See?" he drawled. "Even a dog knows better than to eat trash."

The blood drained from my face. I felt hollowed out. Why was I so stupid? Why did I actually believe, even for a second, that he brought me here because he was hungry?

Conrad took a step toward me. Then another. Closing the distance.

"Ruth. Lifes been hard on you, hasn't it? You look desperate. You want my help."

The images flashed in my mind. The promotion, stolen. The medical bills, stacking up. Ralphs grey face in the hospital bed. "Maybe we skip a few sessions, honey."

My fingernails dug into my palms, breaking the skin. I couldn't speak. I couldn't beg.

Conrad reached out. He grabbed a decorative piece from the console tablea scale model of his company headquarters. Forty-five stories of steel and glass.

His long finger tapped the very top of the spire. Then, slowly, he traced a line through the air. An arc. A freefall. His finger landed on the table with a soft tap.

His voice was devoid of humanity. "I might be willing to help you. It's not impossible."

He pointed to the model again. "My building has a lovely rooftop terrace above the 45th floor."

He leaned in, his breath ghosting against my ear.

"Ruth. You jump off that edge... and I'll consider it."

Red static filled my vision. My chest heaved, but no air was getting in. Numbness took over. A protective layer of ice