“If I can’t have the money, you don’t get your legacy,” he snarled.

He grabbed Marta by the shoulder of her wet jacket.

He dragged her closer to the low stone parapet.

“Get back!” Bennett yelled at us.

“Get back or she goes over,” he said.

Marta struggled, her feet slipping on the wet stone.

My heart pounded against my ribs.

“Julian, do something,” I whispered.

Julian took a slow step forward, his hands raised in a calming gesture.

“Bennett, look at me,” Julian said.

“You are facing fraud and asset concealment right now,” Julian said.

“If you push her, it’s murder,” Julian warned.

“You won’t survive that,” Julian added.

Bennett looked over his shoulder at the street far below.

The headlights of the cabs on Park Avenue looked like tiny yellow dots in the rain.

“I have nothing left,” Bennett said.

“You took Celeste,” he said.

“You took the hotels,” he added.

“You took those from yourself, Bennett,” I said.

“You did it the day you decided to forge my name,” I said.

He stared at me, his eyes wild and bloodshot.