PART 2

We drove his heavy-duty truck as far as the plowed main road would allow, sitting in a suffocating silence. Every time he glanced at me, I saw the dark, empty calculation in his eyes. He parked near the edge of the Aspen overlook, a sheer drop that plummeted hundreds of feet into a jagged, ice-filled ravine.

The wind howled, whipping sharp snow against my face as we stepped out of the warm truck.

Carter took my elbow, guiding me toward the edge under the guise of steadying my pregnant frame.

“Look at that view,” he whispered, standing right behind me.

Before I could even brace myself, I felt his hands plant firmly between my shoulder blades. With a violent, laughing grunt, he shoved me forward.

I plummeted over the edge, the freezing air rushing past my ears. But Carter hadn’t accounted for the heavy snowfall from the three-day blizzard. Instead of hitting the jagged rocks at the bottom of the ravine, I crashed into a massive, tightly packed snowdrift on a hidden ledge just thirty feet below the overlook. The impact was brutal. Jagged ice sliced across the right side of my face, and darkness immediately pulled me under.

When I woke up, I was in a bright hospital room, surrounded by monitors. A local search and rescue team had spotted my bright red coat on the ledge hours later.

Miraculously, despite my injuries and the deep lacerations on my face, the baby’s heartbeat was strong and steady.

As soon as the nurse told me I was safe, I begged for a phone. But I didn’t call the police. If Carter knew I was alive, he would run, or worse, he would come to finish the job. I needed to trap him permanently.

So, I called the one man Carter had no idea I was connected to. I called my estranged biological father, Marcus. He just so happened to be the billionaire CEO of Vanguard Insurance Group—the exact company holding the $50 million policy Carter was about to claim.

PART 3

Marcus flew to Colorado in his private jet within hours. When he saw my scarred face and heard what Carter had done, the guilt of our years of estrangement melted into a cold, terrifying wrath. He immediately put a corporate lockdown on the situation.

To the world, and to Carter, my body had been “lost to the ravine.”

Carter didn’t waste a single second. Believing he had won, he immediately filed the insurance claim and scheduled a lavish, highly publicized memorial service for me at a grand cathedral downtown. He wanted to play the grieving widower for the cameras.

Marcus set the bait perfectly. He had his top executives contact Carter, informing him that because of the “tragic and undisputed nature” of the accident, the CEO himself had approved an expedited payout. They told Carter the preliminary $50 million settlement check would be hand-delivered to him in the church vestibule right before the service, a twisted PR move that Carter’s greed eagerly accepted.

I spent the next four days healing in a private wing, preparing for the most important walk of my life.

When the day of my fake funeral arrived, Marcus and I waited in the shadows of the cathedral’s grand foyer.

Through the cracked wooden doors, I could see Carter standing near the altar. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, wiping away fake tears for the crowd. But as soon as the insurance executive approached him with the leather folder, his facade dropped.

Standing right beside him, holding his hand, was Chloe—his mistress.

Carter smirked at her, a look of pure, unadulterated triumph on his face. He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out his expensive fountain pen, and let it hover over the $50 million settlement check.

He was one signature away from thinking he had gotten away with my murder.

ENDING

I gave Marcus a nod. He signaled the men waiting in the wings.

Suddenly, the heavy oak cathedral doors violently burst open, echoing like a gunshot through the silent church. The entire congregation gasped, spinning around in their pews.

I walked down the center aisle, clutching my heavy belly. I wore a striking black dress, my scarred face held high and entirely uncovered, arm-in-arm with the billionaire CEO of Vanguard Insurance.

The pen slipped from Carter’s fingers, clattering loudly against the marble floor. All the color drained from his face, leaving him looking like a ghost. Chloe screamed and backed away from him.

“You can’t sign that, Carter,” Marcus’s voice boomed through the cavernous room. “Because the policyholder is standing right here. And her father doesn’t take kindly to attempted murder.”

Before Carter could even take a step toward the side exit, six detectives emerged from the front pews, slapping handcuffs on his wrists while the congregation watched in horrified silence. He sobbed and begged as they dragged him out, but I didn’t blink. I just watched the monster who tried to end my life lose his forever.

Two weeks later, surrounded by a team of the best doctors my father could find, I gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl. I still have the scar on my cheek, but I don’t hide it with makeup. It reminds me every single day that I am not a victim. I survived the fall, I protected my child, and I gained a grandfather for my daughter. We finally have a life built on truth, and no amount of money could ever buy the peace I feel now.