Chapter Text
Mabel Mora had seen her fair share of strange men walk through the Arconia’s lobby and into Oliver's apartment, but Jay Pflug wasn’t like them. He didn’t stumble or make grand speeches. He just stood there, in grey sweats, holding a box of beers and wearing the kind of expression that said I know what I’m doing and I'm amused that you don't.
Jay was just about to provide some helpful information when Bash and Camilla showed up, making Jay clam up about anything helpful until he and Mabel were alone together. He offered her a beer and they had an intimate discussion on wanting to prove themselves, wanting to not screw up.
That was how it started — a beer, an eyebrow raise, and an unspoken agreement that they’d tolerate each other long enough for Mabel and the old guys to figure out why Lester, the Arconia’s doorman, had suddenly turned up dead.
Oliver and Charles were in assisting occasionally as usual — one snorting about the finger found in his shrimp from his wedding, the other spiraling over being sexually active with dangerous women that tied back to his relationship with his mother. But Mabel’s attention kept drifting from the investigation toward Jay, the billionaire who always seemed to know more than he said.
He slipped her small things — clues, technically — but disguised as casual gifts. A new recorder for her podcast (“Your old one’s dying.”), an envelope with a Manhattan permit file she hadn’t asked for (“I like paperwork. It calms me.”), even a pair of noise-cancelling headphones (“So you can think. Not that I do.”).
She told herself she didn’t trust him.
She also didn’t delete his number.
Jay Pflug didn’t do crushes.
He did mergers, markets, and multimillion-dollar deals that left him sleepless but rich. Yet somehow, he’d found himself at 3 a.m. scrolling through Mabel’s old podcast episodes, listening to her talk about loneliness and loyalty to her friends.
He admired how she didn’t flinch when dangerous situations came up — how she saw through the polished façade of New York’s elite and kept digging, even when every door slammed shut.
And when she confronted at Bash's mansion — her eyes narrowed, her phone recording — he almost told her everything. About Bash, Camilla, and the bets. About how Nicky had lost his temper, how Lester had tried to stop it and ended up with blood on his hands.
But that would’ve ruined her story. And Jay, for all his arrogance, didn’t want to take away the one thing that made Mabel glow: the chase.
So instead, he helped her in silence.
Wire transfers she didn’t ask for. Access to people she’d never reach. A quiet hand smoothing the chaos just enough for her to keep running toward the truth. He just wouldn't let her user Wonderfy to slander his name on the podcast. That would get in the way of the money he wanted to spend on her.
When the shrimp scandal broke — Oliver screaming about “cursed hors d’oeuvres” while Charles fainted into a napkin — Jay stood behind the chaos and watched Mabel connect the final dots.
And when the whole truth was revealed, Jay carefully watched the door to Nicky's office where Mabel, Oliver, and Charles were locked away. He wouldn't let Mabel die there. He'd wait until the coast was clear before freeing them. Turns out he didn't have to.
When Mabel declared on live news that the Mayor was a murderer, Jay knew the game was up. After the mayor was arrested, he confessed to the cops everything about what happened the night of Lester's death. He just asked that the cops give him a minute to talk to Mabel before they could arrest him. They agreed.
Jay asked Mabel if they could talk. Mabel insisted in Oliver and Charles staying beside her, which Jay didn't protest. He revealed the last few details about the case, then revealed he confessed it all to the cops. Because of this, the Arconia was saved and Camilla couldn't tear it down.
Jay pointed out Mabel kept asking him to prove he is a good guy and he insisted he wants to be. He wants to be that for her. With that, Jay let the cops arrest him and walk him out of the secret casino under the Arconia, following Bash and Camilla.
Mabel saw the news the next morning.
Jay Pflug arrested for fraud, obstruction, conspiracy — the whole glittering list. Though he had apparently cut a deal that gave him a lighter sentence for turning himself and his fellow billionaires in, intending to fix mistakes.
She told herself it didn’t matter.
He was a criminal.
She solved murders.
But after the first episode of the podcast mentioned Cinda Canning's death, three months after Jay's arrest, the first package arrived — a small brown box, postmarked from Rikers — her hands shook. Inside was a note, written on thick, expensive paper.
“For your next case. — J.”
And beneath it: a memory card.
She plugged it in. Blueprints. Emails. A list of suspects and their locations tied to Cinda's death. It was just what they needed.
Oliver and Charles hovered behind her, arguing over whether accepting evidence from jail was “ethically podcastable.” Though they weren't necessarily against using clues happily handed to them without having to fight for the information.
Mabel didn’t answer.
She was already smiling, despite herself.
Jay, from his cell, didn’t need to see her reaction to know she’d use it.
He could almost hear her — the low mutter, the scratch of her pen, the excitement in her voice when she found a lead.
It was enough to make the nights bearable.
He had money, and connections, and guards who liked the taste of bribes. So he kept sending her what she needed. Sometimes it was a tip about a name. Sometimes it was cash. Sometimes, just a note that said, “Don’t give up yet.”
He wasn’t sure what he wanted anymore — redemption or love. Maybe both.
But if helping her meant she could finally stop living in the shadow of everyone else’s crimes, he’d buy the whole city for her.
When he finally walked out — free, two years later, sweats the same, smile sharper — Mabel was waiting outside the prison, arms crossed.
“You owe me an interview,” she said.
Jay grinned. “And a lifetime of gifts.”
"Let's start with coffee," she suggested.
"I can do that," he replied with a grin. "Though I hope you'll eventually let me take you on that trip to Cuba. When you're not in the middle of solving a case, this time."
She didn't deny it.