Los Angeles looked golden from the rooftop of Jordan’s apartment — all light, all illusion. He leaned against the railing, drink in hand, that same curated smile playing on his lips. You knew that smile. You’d seen it sold to strangers, clients, investors. But tonight, it was different. It trembled at the corners.

“You okay?” you asked, stepping beside him.

Jordan didn’t answer right away. He just stared out at the skyline, the wind shifting through his shirt. “They think I saved her,” he muttered.

“Hope?” you said, though you already knew.

He nodded. “They’re writing pieces about me. ‘The Life Coach Who Turned a Brand Crisis Into Gold.’” A dry laugh escaped his throat. “It’s all so perfect.”

You looked at him. “Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He finally turned to you. His eyes — usually gleaming with charm — were tired. Honest.

“No,” he said. “I wanted… something real.”

You tilted your head. “Then why the lies, Jordan? The stunts? The sabotage?”

His gaze dropped. “Because real doesn’t get you anywhere in this town. Real doesn’t book you clients. Real doesn’t make people listen.”

You stepped closer, lowering your voice. “But real got you me.”

He flinched slightly — not from fear, but from truth. You’d been with him before Hope, before the headlines. You met him when he was hustling out of a co-working space with nothing but a laminated vision board and a fake certification. You stayed because, beneath it all, there was a heart — bruised, yes, but still beating.

“I didn’t mean to drag you into this,” he whispered.

“You didn’t drag me,” you said. “I walked in. But I didn’t expect to lose you in the performance.”

A long silence settled between you, full of words that neither of you dared to say.

Then, softly, he asked, “If I stop — if I walk away from the show, from Hope, from all of it — would you still be here?”

You didn’t hesitate. “If you show up as you — not the brand, not the pitch — I’m already here.”

Jordan let out a shaky breath. And for once, there was no spin. No façade. Just Jordan. Just you.

He reached for your hand. You held it. Not because you forgave everything. But because everyone deserves the chance to become who they were before the mask.