Sylvester’s POV.
I didn't remember pushing past the guests or the glass crunching beneath my shoes. All I saw was my grandfather on the floor, unmoving, surrounded by gasps and silence.
My chest caved in. My mind went blank. I rushed to him, dropping beside him without a care for the suit I wore.
“Grandfather,” I called out, barely recognizing my own voice. “Grandfather, can you hear me?”
He didn’t stir. His face was pale and his lips were slightly parted. I reached for his wrist, looking for a pulse I wasn’t sure I would even recognize if I found it. Panic built inside me, hot and fast.
Then I heard her.
“I’ve called an ambulance,” Natasha said as she crouched beside me. Her voice didn’t shake. She sounded so steady, so calm, like she knew what to do even though I didn’t.
I looked at her. She wasn’t crying or panicking—just focused. She put a hand on my arm, not saying anything else.
And that was enough to ground me. I nodded slowly, feeling like I was hanging by a thread, and she
