38. Leo
38
Leo
J en Takahashi.
Fucking Jen.
Of all the loose ends from my past, she had to be the one to detonate.
Her showing up at the penthouse, threatening Sabrina, threatening Mia … it was a goddamn wake-up call. My old life, the one built on casual encounters and chemical distractions, wasn’t just incompatible with this new reality.
It was actively hostile to it.
Victoria Kowalski, my Chief Legal Counsel (and, admittedly, occasional occupant of my former rotation), handled the Jen situation with her usual ruthless efficiency.
A carefully worded cease and desist, an iron-clad NDA, along with a subtle but significant deposit from what I affectionately call my ‘Fuck Off With A Smile’ fund. You know, the fifty million liquid, specifically earmarked for making inconvenient people and their inconvenient threats disappear quietly.
Jen’s silence, it turns out, had a price .
And I was more than happy to pay it.
Charlie also did a full audit of penthouse access. Turns out, Jen had a backup keycard stashed away, one that slipped through the cracks when he supposedly nuked all previous ‘associate’ privileges.
So now, finally, all access codes, all cards, anything not explicitly authorized by me for essential staff, are gone. Fortress Maxwell is now officially on lockdown.
I also had Charlie give Sabrina her own keycard, so that she can come up the elevator without Thomas now. But I suspect she won’t use. She values her small talk with the old guy too much. I don’t blame her. He is quite genial.
Late that night, when I finally return to the penthouse, Sabrina and I find ourselves in the living room. We’re nursing whiskeys. Mine neat, hers with a splash of water. The city lights glitter beyond the massive windows, an indifferent backdrop to the quiet tension between us.
“So,” Sabrinasaysfinally, breaking the silence. “That was… eventful.”
“Understatement,” Igrunt. The word feels inadequate for the clusterfuck Jen unleashed. “Sorry you had to deal with that. Jen’s… got issues.”
“Clearly.” Sheswirlsher drink, not looking at me. “How many other… ‘Jens’ are waiting in the woodwork, Leo? With old keycards and axes to grind?”
Fair.
Fucking fair.
I deserve it.
“None that I know of,” Isay, trying for honesty. Or at least, the closest approximation I can manage right now. “That lifestyle… the casual hookups, the rotation… it’s done, Sabrina. Over.” Imeether gaze then, trying to convey a sincerity I’m not entirely sure I possess, but desperately want to. “Mia… you… this…” Igesturevaguely between us. “This changes things. Has changed things.”
Shestudiesme, her eyes searching mine, probably running my statement through her internal bullshit detector.
“Has it?” sheasksquietly. “Or are you just… managing another crisis, Leo? Saying what you think I need to hear?”
Fuck.
She sees right through me.
Or maybe she just sees the patterns.
My father, charming his way out of trouble, making promises he never intended to keep, leaving a trail of broken trust and broken bottles in his wake.
Am I any different?
Am I capable of being different?
“I’m trying, Sabrina,” Isay, the words feeling scraped from some place deep inside that I usually keep barricaded. “For Mia. For… us. I’m fucking trying.”
Shedoesn’t replyimmediately. Just keeps looking at me with that unreadable expression.
Then, shegivesa small, almost imperceptible nod.
Not forgiveness.
Not even trust, not really.
But… acknowledgment?
It’s a start.
But even as Isaythe words, even as Imeanthem with every fiber of my being in this moment, a part of me, the old, familiar, restless part,feels…
Trapped.
Like a caged animal pacing its too-small enclosure. This new life... diapers, bedtime stories, emotional vulnerability, fucking consequences... it’sa world away from the freedom, the oblivion, I used to chase with such self-destructive fervor.
The Red Bull Chamonix invitation stillsitsin my inbox.
Unanswered.
A silent, seductive siren song.
The next morning, I’m in my home office, trying to focus on a term sheet for a new vibe coding startup. Sabrina’s across the room at her workstation, on a call with some financial journalist, expertly spinning the narrative about Maxwell & Briggs’s renewed stability. Mia is with Thomas, probably terrorizing the kitchen staff or attempting to redecorate the penthouse with pureed carrots.
My phone buzzes.
Luca.
What does he want now?
I answer, keeping my voice curt. “Briggs. What?”
“Leo! Partner! Urgent situation.” Luca’s voice is too loud, too fast, laced with that familiar manic energy. “Emergency investor meeting. On the books for this afternoon. Our biggest LPs. They’re spooked again. Rumors flying. Need you here. Now. Full court press.”
“Emergency meeting?” I frown. Michelle hadn’t mentioned anything. “What rumors? What happened?”
“Doesn’t matter! Just get your ass down to the office! We need to project unity, strength! The whole nine yards!” He sounds… frantic. More frantic than usual .
I glance over at Sabrina. She’s off her call now, watching me, her expression questioning.
“Luca, I’m working from home today,” I say carefully. “Sabrina and I are handling the PR angle from here. Send me the briefing docs…”
“No, Leo, you don’t understand!” Luca cuts me off, his voice rising. “This isn’t a PR thing anymore! This is… existential! They’re threatening to pull the plug! We need you! The closer! The rainmaker! Not… not the guy playing house!”
The dig lands sharp and intentional. He knows exactly which buttons to push.
“I have… commitments here, Luca,” I say, my jaw tightening. I look at Sabrina again.
Her expression is carefully neutral .
“Commitments?” Luca scoffs. “Leo, this is Maxwell & Briggs we’re talking about! Our fucking empire! What’s more important than that?” He pauses, his voice dropping conspiratorially low. “Besides… a little fresh air might do you good. I’ve got the chopper prepped. Auger’s ready and waiting. Quick hop upstate. Clear your head. Then hit the office, full power. Like old times.”
Auger. The chopper. Upstate.
It’s not an emergency investor meeting after all. It’s code. Fucking code for wingsuit training.
Leo’s lying.
Manipulating.
Trying to lure me back into the game.
Rage fills me.
Luca.
You fucking deceitful bastard.
He refuses to accept that things have changed.
That I’ve changed.
Or at least, that I’ m trying to.
But then… another thought begins to form.
A quick jump.
Just one.
Blow off some steam.
Clear my head.
Get that old familiar rush back.
The silence.
The control.
Then hit the office, truly focused, truly back in the game.
Maybe Luca’s right.
Maybe that’s exactly what I need.
What the firm needs.
Show them I’m not broken.
Not domesticated.
Still Leo Fucking Maxwell.
“All right, Luca,” I say slowly, my mind racing. I weigh the options, calculate the risks. Mostly about getting caught. By Sabrina.
She’s going to find out.
So what? It’s my life.
“Brief me on the way,” I add. “I’m heading out now.”
I hang up before he can reply and before I change my mind.
Sabrina is staring at me. Those carefully constructed walls are back up, impenetrable.
“Business emergency?” she asks, her voice devoid of emotion.
“Yeah,” I lie, hating the taste of the word in my mouth. Hating the look in her eyes. “Major LPs calling a snap meeting. Gotta… gotta go put out some fires.” I stand, and flinch as I grab my jacket. I avoid her gaze.
“Right,” she says quietly. She turns back to her laptop, her shoulders stiff.
Fuck.
This feels like a betrayal. Of her. Of Mia.
Of the fragile fucking thing we were starting to build.
But the pull… the pull of the sky, the call of that old, familiar oblivion… it’s too strong.
I need this.
Just once.
To prove… something.
To myself.
I walk out of the office, out of the penthouse, leaving her sitting there in the silence.
Leaving Mia asleep in her crib.
And I can’t shake the feeling that I’m doing something incredibly wrong.
Yes. It’s my life.
My life to fuck up.
An hour later, I’m standing on the edge of a familiar cliff upstate. Quarry jump. Easy shit. Nothing like Chamonix.
Auger is beside me, checking my rig, his expression impassive.
Luca is already strapped in, grinning like a fucking maniac, probably high as a kite again.
“Ready to fly, partner?” Luca shouts over the wind. “Like old times!”
Not like old times.
Nothing is like old times anymore.
Cold and sharp, the wind whips around me. The drop yawns below.
My heart hammers.
I should feel… exhilaration.
Anticipation.
But I don’t.
I feel… scared.
Not scared of the jump, not scared of the fall, not even scared of dying.
I’ve faced that before.
Survived it.
I’m scared of what I’m losing. Scared of the look in Sabrina’s eyes when I walked out. Scared of becoming my father, making promises I can’t keep, choosing escape over responsibility. Scared of the silence in the penthouse if she leaves me, the silence that won’t be filled by Mia’s laughter or Sabrina’s quiet presence.
But I shove it all down.
Compartmentalize.
Focus.
This is what I do.
This is who I am.
At least, that’s what I tell myself.
“Sending it!” Luca launches himself into the void. He becomes a sleek, dark shape against the landscape below.
Auger gives me a thumbs-up. “Your call, Maxwell.”
My call.
Right.
I take a step towards the edge.
Look down.
I can still turn back.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it.
Mia...
I exhale.
And jump .
The initial shock of acceleration hits, the familiar G-force pressing me back as the suit inflates and catches the air.
The cliff face drops away behind me.
And for a glorious, fucking fleeting moment, it’s there.
The silence.
The noise in my head, the endless fucking calculations and anxieties and regrets… gone.
Just the rush of wind, the raw power, the absolute, singular focus of the fall.
Freedom.
Pure, undiluted, just like I remembered.
This is it.
This is me .
But then… it hits.
Not the ground.
Something worse.
A cold, hollow certainty that punches through the adrenaline high, colder than the wind buffeting my face.
Sabrina’s eyes.
Mia’s trusting face.
The quiet peace of the nursery.
The fragile thing I might have just thrown away for this.
For a few fucking seconds of escape.
The elation I expected, the triumphant reclaiming of self… it’s not there.
The silence I craved is now filled with a new kind of noise. The deafening roar of my own betrayal.
I’m flying, yes.
But I’m also falling.
In a way that has nothing to do with gravity.
I navigate the easy line through the quarry, muscle memory taking over. Pull the chute at the right altitude. Land smoothly, if a little hard.
My muscles are aching, but I did it. Fucking did it.
I should feel exhilarated.
But I don’t.
Auger is there, all professional efficiency. Ecstatic, Luca is already out of his rig.
He claps me on the shoulder and buzzes, “Fucking knew you still had it, partner! See? That’s the Leo Maxwell the world needs!”
I just stare at him, feeling nothing but a vast, echoing emptiness.
The adrenaline has faded, leaving behind a bitter residue of self-loathing.
I did it.
I proved I still could.
And in doing so, I proved I’m still the same reckless, selfish bastard I’ve always been.
The kind of man who chooses the fall over everything else.
The kind of man who breaks promises without even speaking them.
Sabrina will know. She’ll see it in my eyes when I get back. If she’s even still there.
And the freedom I just tasted? It already feels like another fucking cage.
Worst of all?
I know I’m probably going to do it again.
I sigh.
Patterns.
For me, apparently, they’re almost impossible to break.