SIXTY THREE

GRAYSON'S POV

I woke up with a loud grunt, the hangover from the night before pounding in my head like a jackhammer. My face ached from the bruises I’d gotten in the bar fight. I squinted against the harsh morning light streaming through the window and reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, showing five missed calls from Stewart.

"Great," I muttered, rubbing my temples. I dialed him back, and he picked up on the first ring.

"Grayson, finally. Have you checked the news?" Stewart's voice was tense.

"No, I just woke up. What's going on?" I asked, already feeling a knot forming in my stomach.

"Turn on the TV or check your news app. It's about Sylvia," he said.

I groaned and swung my legs out of bed, shuffling over to the TV. I grabbed the remote and switched it on, flipping to a news channel. My heart sank as I saw the headline: "Lawsuit Filed Against Affordable Housing Project. Protesters Claim Fraud."

The screen showed footage of a small crowd outside Sylvia’s office