Chapter 2

I pushed open the door and saw Mason, a bottle of liquor in one hand, a handful of pills in the other, lifting them to his mouth.

My heart seized. I practically flew across the room, swatting the deadly combo from his grasp.

"What are you doing?!" I cried out, my voice trembling with a raw, panicked sob.

Mason’s voice was dead, his smile a tragic grimace. "What am I doing? Isn't it obvious? I'm dying…"

His eyes pleaded with me, filled with tears. "Please, Riley, have a heart, just leave me alone! Let me die!"

"I'm ruined. There's no point in living."

I buried my face in his chest, shaking my head frantically. This was his fourth suicide attempt this month. The last time, he tried carbon monoxide poisoning. Before that, he tried to drown himself. And before that, he tried to slash his wrists. Every single time, I found him just in time.

I couldn’t bear to imagine what would happen if I were even a moment too late.

"Mason, please don't do this." I cupped his face, my voice shaking. "We'll face this together, okay?"

Mason shoved me away roughly. "Face what? The debt collectors?"

He pounded his fists on his own legs. "Look at these legs! They’re useless, they can't move! How can I work like this? How can I earn money?"

"Don't you get sick of looking at these useless legs every day? Because I do!"

My heart ached as I watched him. Ever since that brutal attack by the debt collectors, he hadn't been able to stand.

Mason aggressively reached for the pills and liquor I’d knocked over. "Better to just end it quickly now, and get it over with! I won't drag you down!"

I threw myself at him, wrapping my arms around his hands. "You're not dragging me down! You're all I have in this world! If you leave, what will I do...?" I desperately tried to convince him he was still needed, still useful. "Without you, how can I live?!"

Tears blurring my vision, I choked out, "If you can't work, I can! It's just money! I'll pay it back, I'll pay it back with you! I'll even get your legs fixed, I'll get you back on your feet..."

"So please, just don't die!"

Mason scoffed, a cold, cynical laugh, calling me naive. "You'll pay? You'll even fix my legs? Do you know how much five million in debt, plus medical costs, adds up to? At least six million!"

He pointed at me, then at himself. "Look at you, then look at me. You earn next to nothing! Even if we saved every single penny, it would take us over a century to clear five million! Do you honestly think we'd live that long? Do you think those loan sharks would wait that long?"

I bit my lip, silent. Mason continued, "You say you'll pay off my debts now, but what about later? When you're exhausted, when you crave something decent to eat but can't afford it, when you have to pinch every single penny... you'll resent me! You'll resent why I'm such a cripple! You'll resent ever trying to save me!"

His voice suddenly turned icy. "Wealthy people stab each other in the back for profit. What makes you think *our* love, as commoners, is any different?"

"Wake up."

I gripped his hand, my eyes locked on his. "That's not how it works, Mason. Yes, I'm barely making minimum wage now, but I'll get promoted. My salary will increase. And I can pick up extra jobs..."

"Mason," I said firmly, "we'll figure this out together."

Mason turned his head away, refusing to look at me.

I stood up, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Mason asked.

"To find work," I said, without looking back.

From that day on, I plunged into a frantic work-life.

During the day, I worked at the office. In the evenings, I tutored. On weekends, I delivered food, even squeezing in errands for colleagues to earn extra cash during my work breaks.

I was like a wound-up machine, working non-stop.

I slept only three hours a day, for a solid month.

I calculated my earnings for that grueling month: $36,880. The number was auspicious, but it made my eyes dry and ache. It wasn't even a fraction of five million.