Chapter 1 - The Ravine
The snow swallowed my scream.
One second, Victor’s hands were against my shoulders.
The next, there was nothing beneath my feet.
I fell backward.
My nine month pregnant body struck the frozen slope once.
Twice.
Then the mountain disappeared beneath me.
I remember reaching for Victor.
Not because I thought he would save me.
Instinct.
His face remained above the edge.
Calm.
Almost curious.
Serena stood beside him.
The woman who had spent eighteen months pretending to be my friend while sleeping with my husband.
Her hand covered her mouth.
“Victor!”
Then my back struck a narrow rock shelf.
Everything inside me exploded.
My ribs.
My left wrist.
My hip.
My stomach.
I could not breathe.
Snow poured over the ledge.
I tasted blood.
Above me, Serena screamed:
“Is she dead?”
Victor leaned over.
“For fifty million dollars, she’d better be.”
I thought that would be the last thing I ever heard.
Then his voice came once more.
“Don’t worry, Elena.”
Playful.
Cruel.
“Your baby won’t suffer for long.”
They walked away.
I lay beneath the snow with both arms wrapped around my stomach.
My son.
Thirty eight weeks.
His little feet had been pressing against my ribs that morning.
I had complained.
Victor laughed and said:
“He gets that from me.”
Now I whispered:
“Move.”
Nothing.
“Please.”
Wind tore through my ripped coat.
I could not feel two fingers on my broken wrist.
“Please, baby.”
Then a tiny pressure moved beneath my palm.
I sobbed.
Alive.
I had no idea how long I remained there.
Later, rescuers told me one hour and fifty seven minutes.
To me it was a lifetime measured in breaths.
In.
Pain.
Out.
Stay awake.
In.
Pain.
Out.
Stay awake.
Then light swept across the cliff.
A helicopter.
I thought I was hallucinating.
A cable descended through blowing snow.
A rescue medic reached me first.
Behind him came another man in an expensive black overcoat beneath a rescue harness.
Silver hair.
Steel gray eyes.
He should not have been on that mountain.
I knew his face anyway.
I had seen it in annual reports.
Magazine covers.
And one photograph hidden inside my mother’s desk after she died.
Adrian Cross.
Founder and chief executive of Cross Atlantic Insurance Group.
The company holding the enormous life insurance policy Victor had convinced me to sign six months earlier.
And according to a letter my mother Lydia had left behind, the man who might also be my biological father.
He looked down at me.
Then froze.
“Elena?”
I tried answering.
Blood filled my mouth.
His entire face changed.
The billionaire disappeared.
A terrified man dropped beside me.
“Stay with me.”
I caught his wrist.
“Victor…”
“What?”
“He pushed…”
My voice failed.
The medic leaned closer.
“Ma’am, don’t talk.”
I forced it out.
“Fifty million.”
Adrian stared.
Then I whispered:
“He pushed me for fifty million.”
His jaw hardened.
The helicopter lifted us from the mountain.
I remember Adrian holding the blanket around my shoulders.
I remember him saying:
“You’re not dying here.”
Then darkness.
When I woke, white lights burned above me.
A fetal monitor beeped beside the bed.
A nurse named Megan Pierce stood over me.
“Don’t move.”
“My baby.”
“We have a heartbeat.”
I started crying.
Weak.
Fast.
But there.
Adrian stood near the window.
Still wearing the same bloodstained shirt beneath his coat.
“How long?”
“Six hours since rescue.”
“Victor?”
Adrian crossed the room.
“Does he know I’m alive?”
“No.”
I stared.
“Why?”
“Because the sheriff’s office considers him a suspect and you asked rescuers not to notify him before you lost consciousness.”
I did not remember.
Good.
Then Adrian picked up his phone.
His expression became cold.
“There’s something you need to know.”
“What?”
“Victor filed a preliminary death claim.”
I blinked.
“How?”
“Forty seven minutes after you went over the ravine.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“He didn’t even know whether I was dead.”
“No.”
“And the search team hadn’t found me.”
“No.”
Adrian turned the screen toward me.
CLAIMANT: VICTOR HALE.
INSURED: ELENA HALE.
BENEFIT: $50,000,000.
CAUSE OF DEATH REPORTED:
ACCIDENTAL FALL AND EXPOSURE.
My hands began shaking.
Then I saw another line.
DEPENDENT STATUS:
UNBORN MALE CHILD PRESUMED DECEASED.
May you like
Victor had already reported our son dead too.
Before anyone found either of us.
