My husband pushed me—nine months pregnant—from an icy Colorado cliff because he wanted the $50 million life-insurance payout on me and our unborn son.

PART 2

Ashley complained about the cold.

Michael told her they could not stay.

“What if she’s still alive?” Ashley asked.

“She isn’t climbing back up.”

“You should check.”

“You check.”

Silence followed.

Neither of them moved toward the edge.

They were willing to arrange my death.

Neither was willing to risk the climb necessary to confirm it.

After a moment, Ashley asked, “What happens now?”

“We report that she slipped.”

“And the insurance?”

“Once she’s declared dead, we submit the claim.”

“What about the baby?”

Michael’s answer came without hesitation.

“Covered under the same policy.”

I pressed one hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound.

For months, he had placed his palm against my stomach and spoken to our son.

He had assembled a stroller.

He had argued over names.

He had stood beside me during medical appointments, smiling whenever the heartbeat filled the room.

Now he was discussing our child like an additional line in an insurance contract.

Their voices began moving away.

Footsteps crunched across the ridge.

Then there was only wind.

They left me buried beneath blowing snow on that ledge.

For nearly two hours, I moved in and out of awareness.

Each time darkness pulled at me, I forced my eyes open.

I counted breaths.

One.

Two.

Three.

I thought about the nursery waiting at home.

The unfinished box of diapers beside the changing table.

The tiny blue hat I had packed inside my hospital bag.

I thought about Michael standing above me, waiting to become rich.

Then I felt something beneath my hands.

A tiny movement.

My baby was still alive.

I began crying.

Not because I felt safe.

Because he was still fighting.

“So am I,” I whispered.

I pressed my back against the rock and tried to make myself smaller beneath my coat. Snow continued gathering around my legs. My fingertips no longer felt like they belonged to me.

The temptation to sleep became overwhelming.

Every part of my body begged me to close my eyes.

But I kept thinking about Michael’s voice.

For fifty million dollars, she better be.

No.

He did not get to make that decision.

I breathed again.

Counted again.

Opened my eyes again.

Then a beam of light crossed the snow.

At first, I thought I was imagining it.

The light disappeared behind the storm.

Then it returned.

This time it stopped several feet above me.

I tried to call out, but only a weak sound left my throat.

The beam moved away.

“No,” I whispered.

I lifted one arm.

It fell back against the snow.

The light returned once more and settled directly over my body.

Rotor noise cut through the wind.

A black rescue helicopter hovered above the ridge while a cable dropped through the blowing snow.

Someone was coming down.

A rescuer in alpine gear descended through the storm, struck the ledge on one knee, and moved immediately toward me.

He pulled off one glove and touched the side of my neck.

I tried to speak.

“My baby…”

“I hear you.”

“Please save him.”

“We’re taking both of you.”

He opened a medical pack and placed protective equipment around me before fastening the rescue harness.

Then he spoke into his radio.

“I have a live adult female. Full-term pregnancy. Severe cold exposure. Prepare immediate transport.”

A voice answered through his headset, but I could no longer understand the words.

The rescuer leaned closer.

“Stay awake for me.”

“My husband…”

“We’ll talk about that once you’re safe.”

“He pushed me.”

The rescuer stopped.

His eyes met mine.

“Who pushed you?”

“Michael Carter.”

“Was anyone else present?”

“Ashley. His assistant.”

The rescuer’s expression changed, but his hands remained steady.

“Did they know you survived the fall?”

“They left me.”

He reached for his radio again.

This time, his message was shorter.

“Notify law enforcement. This is not an accidental fall.”

Above us, the helicopter strained against the storm.

The cable tightened.

I wrapped both arms around my stomach as the rescuer secured me against him.

“Don’t let me fall,” I whispered.

“I have you.”

The ledge dropped away beneath us.

I saw the white mountains stretching in every direction.

No sign of Michael.

No sign of Ashley.

Only the trail leading away from the cliff where they had abandoned me.

My eyes began closing.

Before darkness took me, I heard the rescuer speaking into his radio.

“She’s alive. Repeat—she is alive.”

At that exact moment, Michael believed he had already won.

He believed the storm had buried his crime.

He believed Ashley was the only person who knew what he had done.

He believed all that remained between him and fifty million dollars was a death certificate.

And while I was being lifted out of the mountain, my husband was already preparing to stand before our family and mourn a death that had never happened.

THE END