I felt the edge of the rooftop beneath my boots, the cold metal railing biting at my palms as I lunged forward. Gerald Grayson’s grip on Harold was iron, but not iron enough. Not for me.
“Hold on!” I yelled, my voice cutting through the chaos.
Harold’s hands clutched mine, trembling, disbelief etched deep into every line of his face. The man who had once ruled the Grayson family with pride, now reduced to a frail shadow—helpless in my grasp. And yet, he had the nerve to gasp at me like I was some kind of miracle.
I ignored it. Focus.
The wind whipped around us, violent and relentless. I could hear the screams from below—Howard, Anna, even the crowd of onlookers—but none of it mattered. All that mattered was that Harold didn’t fall. Not tonight. Not on my watch.
“Hang on, old man. You’
