"Why? Just why?"
The words left Arthur's lips as a thin wisp of vapour, disappearing instantly into the freezing night air. He stood on the edge of the concrete ledge, forty stories above the city lights. The wind tugged at his cheap suit jacket, the one he'd bought specifically for the promotion he was never going to get.
He looked down at his phone. A final message sat on the screen. It was a photo from his girlfriend—now his ex—showing her laughing in the passenger seat of a car that cost more than Arthur would earn in a decade. The man driving, a billionaire heir named Julian, was smirking at the camera.
"Was it really that easy to replace me?" Arthur whispered to the empty sky. "Three years, and I'm worth less than a luxury leather seat?"
His phone buzzed. It was a notification from a news app. Local Accountant Fired for Embezzlement. There was no name, but there didn't need to be. His boss, Mr. Henderson, had made sure the industry knew who to blame.
Arthur closed his eyes, remembering the conversation in the office just forty-eight hours ago.
"Just sign the audit, Arthur," Henderson had said, leaning back in his mahogany chair and sliding a thick envelope across the desk. "A 'friend' of the firm needs those numbers to look a little softer. There's enough in there to pay off your student loans and then some."
"It's illegal, sir," Arthur had replied, his voice shaking. "I won't lie for a bribe. This 'shady individual' you're dealing with is going to ruin the company."
Henderson's face had turned a deep, ugly red. "You think you're a hero? You're a gear in a machine, kid. If you won't turn, I'll replace you with a gear that does. And I'll make sure you never work in this town again."
Arthur kicked a loose pebble off the ledge. He watched it fall until it vanished into the darkness.
"I did the right thing," he told the wind. "I stayed honest. I stayed loyal."
He let out a dry, jagged laugh that sounded like breaking glass.
"And look where it got me. No job, a ruined reputation, and my life stolen by a guy who's never worked a day in his life."
He took a half-step forward, his toes hanging over the sheer drop. The city below looked like a sea of diamonds, beautiful and completely indifferent to whether he stayed or jumped.
"Is this the prize for being a good person?" he asked, his voice cracking. "Just... nothing?"
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. He flicked through the cards—his gym membership, a coffee punch card, a photo of his parents. He threw the wallet behind him onto the roof. He didn't want to be a name anymore. He just wanted the noise in his head to stop.
"Goodbye, Henderson," he muttered, his eyes narrowing. "I hope you di-."
A sudden, blinding flash of light cut through the darkness.
Arthur flinched, his eyes snapping open. A massive digital billboard on the side of the neighbouring skyscraper had just flickered to life. It was a high-definition advertisement for a travel agency, but there were no luxury cars or sparkling watches on the screen.
Instead, the screen was filled with a rolling green hillside under a bright blue sky. A field of sunflowers swayed in a gentle digital breeze, and a rustic wooden farmhouse sat nestled in the valley.
The sight hit Arthur like a physical blow. It looked exactly like the farm back home.
He stood frozen as a memory—one he'd buried under years of spreadsheets and city stress—surged to the surface. He was ten years old again, his hands caked in rich, dark soil.
"Look, Dad! I found a big one!" young Arthur shouted, holding up a lumpy potato.
His father, wearing faded overalls and a wide, sweat-stained hat, knelt down beside him. He didn't look at the potato; he looked at his son with eyes that crinkled at the corners.
"That's a beauty, Artie," his father said, ruffling his hair. "But remember what I told you. It's not just about what you pull out of the ground. It's about how you treat the land. You work hard, you stay honest, and the earth will always take care of you."
"Even when it rains, Dad?"
His mother walked over then, carrying a pitcher of ice-cold lemonade. She sat on the grass and pulled Arthur into a hug that smelled like lavender and sunshine.
"Especially when it rains, honey," she whispered. "The rain is just the world getting ready for something new to grow. You've got a good heart, Arthur. That's the most valuable thing anyone can own. Don't ever let the world trade it for something cheap."
The billboard transitioned to a different ad, but the image remained burned into Arthur's mind. He looked at his hands—the hands of a "failed" accountant—and remembered how they used to feel holding the reins of a tractor or his mother's hand.
His parents hadn't died for him to end up as a stain on a sidewalk. They had died in that car accident while working to make sure he had a future.
Arthur's knees buckled. He scrambled backwards, away from the edge, until his back hit the cold brick of the rooftop access door. He collapsed, burying his face in his hands, and burst into tears.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed, his voice raw. "I'm so sorry, Mom. Dad... I'm so sorry. I was being so stupid. I was being so useless."
He cried for the years he'd wasted trying to impress people like Henderson. He cried for the girl who didn't deserve his heart. But mostly, he cried because he realised he had almost thrown away the one thing his parents had given him: his life.
In the middle of his breakdown, a muffled vibration echoed against the concrete. His phone, lying near the ledge, was lit up again.
Arthur wiped his eyes with his sleeve and crawled over to grab it. He expected another news alert or a mocking text from Julian. Instead, a name he hadn't seen in five years was blinking on the screen.
Incoming Call: Leo (Big Bear)
Arthur stared at it, his breath hitching. Leo had been his best friend in college—a boisterous, loyal guy who had moved back to their rural hometown to take over his family's hardware store.
With trembling fingers, Arthur swiped to answer.
"L-Leo?" Arthur croaked.
"Artie? Is that you, man?" Leo's voice boomed through the speaker, sounding exactly like home. "Holy cow, you actually picked up! I was telling my wife, 'I bet this big-shot city accountant is too busy for us country folk now.'"
Arthur choked back another sob, trying to sound normal. "No, Leo. Never too busy. I... it's been a while."
"Too long, brother! Listen, I'm calling because I heard some rumors about that firm you're at. Sounds like a real snake pit," Leo said, his tone turning serious. "And honestly? I'm hoping those rumors are true because I need a massive favor."
"A favor?" Arthur asked, leaning his head against the cool metal of the door.
"Yeah. My uncle's old mill and the three surrounding farms are forming a co-op, and we're getting buried in paperwork and tax stuff. We need someone we can trust. Someone who knows the numbers but actually has a soul, you know? The pay isn't 'billionaire' money, but there's a house included—the old Miller place—and all the fresh air you can breathe."
Leo paused, then his voice softened. "You okay, Artie? You sound a little far away."
Arthur looked up at the stars, the same stars that shone over those green hills in his memory.
"I'm okay, Leo," Arthur said, a small, genuine smile finally breaking through his tears. "Actually, I think I'm finally coming home."
"That's the spirit!" Leo's voice boomed over the line, though he sounded a little caught off guard. "I'll be honest, Artie, I expected I'd have to beg you for an hour to leave that fancy office. You sounded a bit... I don't know, intense there for a second. You sure you're alright?"
Arthur looked at the ledge, then back at the door. "I've never been better, Leo. I just needed a reminder of who I actually am."
"Well, I'm glad to hear it. Look, I'd love to chat more, but my youngest just knocked over a gallon of white paint in the garage. I can hear my wife screaming from here. I've gotta run before the whole house turns into a canvas!"
Arthur let out a small, breathless laugh. "Go. Take care of that. I'll call you tomorrow to talk details."
"Deal. Can't wait to see you, man. Bye!"
The line went dead. Arthur stared at the blackened screen of his phone for a long time. The wind was still cold, but it didn't feel like it was trying to push him anymore. He felt a strange, quiet fire burning in his chest. He wasn't the "failed accountant" Henderson wanted him to be. He was a man with a plan.
He swiped through his contacts until he found a name he hadn't touched in months: Marcus (Private Eye).
He hit dial. It picked up on the second ring.
"Arthur? It's nearly midnight," a gravelly voice answered. "Everything okay?"
"I'm still breathing, Marcus," Arthur said, his voice gaining strength. "Remember when I helped you find those hidden offshore accounts during your daughter's custody battle? The ones her ex-husband tried to bury?"
"I remember," Marcus said, his tone sharpening. "I told you then that I owed you my life for that. You saved my family, kid. I don't forget favours like that."
"Good," Arthur said, standing up and brushing the dust off his suit. "Because it's time to repay it. I need you to dig into Henderson and his 'friend.' I want every illegal transaction, every bribe, and every fake audit they've ever touched. I have some of the starting codes for the firm's internal server, but I need you to do the heavy lifting."
There was a pause on the other end, followed by the sound of a match striking. Marcus was lighting a cigarette.
"You're finally going after the big man, huh?" Marcus asked.
"He tried to frame me for embezzlement today," Arthur replied. "He thinks I'm just a gear he can replace. I want to show him what happens when the machine breaks."
Marcus chuckled, a low, dry sound. "I like this version of you, Arthur. Much better than the guy who was always worried about his tie being straight. Give me forty-eight hours. I'll find enough dirt to bury that firm and everyone in it."
"Thank you, Marcus. Truly."
"Don't thank me yet. Just get yourself somewhere safe. I'll call you when I have the goods."
Arthur hung up. He walked over to where he had thrown his wallet and picked it up. He tucked the photo of his parents back into the front slot, smoothing out the edges.
He didn't look back at the city lights. He didn't look down at the drop. He opened the heavy metal door to the stairs and began the long walk down.
"This is going to be a long night…"
To Be Continued