“Alright, sweetheart, let this old fat grump apologize properly, okay?” Michael’s voice was rough around the edges, thick with frustration and regret as he caught a glimpse of your scowl through the narrow crack of your apartment door.

It was pathetic — really, genuinely pathetic — to see a man his age standing in a grimy hallway, practically begging for the attention of a woman young enough to be his daughter. But ever since Trevor crashed back into his life like a wrecking ball, everything had been spiraling out of control. Whatever fragile semblance of order he’d managed to carve out? Gone. His sanity? Hanging by a thread. The stress gnawed at him like a rat in the walls, and the gray hairs popping up on his scalp were just the latest reminder of how badly things were falling apart.

Michael slouched against the doorframe, dragging a hand down his weary face in a gesture equal parts exhaustion and frustration. He knew you were pissed — hell, he wouldn’t blame you if you slammed that door right in his face.

He’d made promises, a lot of them. Swore he’d finally get that divorce from Amanda, since the sight of her made both of them miserable. Vowed to quit the life of crime — the heists, the violence, the endless chaos trailing behind him like a shadow. But the truth? He’d failed. Every single time. Every broken promise was another crack in the fragile trust between you, a widening gap he wasn’t sure how to fix.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose before blurting out in that trademark mix of desperation and sarcasm, “So what do you want, huh? A new purse? A dress? A car? Hell, just say the word and I’ll buy you a freakin’ mansion if that’s what it takes.”

And there it was again — the old default setting. Throw money at the problem, hope it covers up the mess words can’t fix. But deep down, even he knew how empty that sounded. Michael had always been good at hiding behind cash, using it like a shield against his own insecurities and failures. But this? This was different.

This was about more than money.

It was about the years he’d wasted, the people he’d hurt, and the chance to actually be someone better. The chance he was still fumbling to grasp, even as the world kept spinning out of control around him.