I shouted, using every ounce of strength to lunge forward and grab his little leg, pulling him back from the edge. I braced myself for the fall, ready for the impact.

But someone firmly grasped me.

Bradley’s hands were clammy, trembling yet forceful as he pulled me back.

As soon as I regained my balance, he raised his hand, ready to strike our son.

“How could you actually jump? I’ve worked so hard to raise you!”

He had repeatedly abandoned our son, leaving him in peril, while I contributed everything—financially and emotionally.

What right did he have to say that?

I blocked his hand, shouting, “Bradley! Is that what you...