The rescuer froze for half a second.
Then everything became urgent.
“Okay. We’re getting you out. Do you understand me?”
I nodded again.
But before he could attach the harness, I grabbed his sleeve.
“My baby.”
“I know.”
“No.” My fingers tightened around his arm. “You don’t understand. My husband…”
I couldn’t finish.
The rescuer leaned closer.
“What about your husband?”
“He pushed me.”
The words seemed almost impossible to say aloud.
“He pushed me off the cliff.”
For a moment, the only sound was the helicopter beating against the storm.
The rescuer looked at me carefully.
Then his voice changed.
“Was anyone else there?”
I closed my eyes.
“A woman.”
“Who?”
“Ashley.”
His expression hardened.
“And your husband?”
“Michael.”
The rescuer glanced toward the ridge above us.
“Michael Carter?”
My heart stopped.
“How do you know his name?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he looked at the radio attached to his chest.
“Control, this is Alpine Three. I have one live patient, female, approximately full-term pregnancy. Possible traumatic injuries. Patient reports being pushed from the upper ridge.”
A crackle came through the radio.
Then another voice responded.
“Copy. Any identification?”
The rescuer looked at me.
I whispered my name.
He repeated it into the radio.
There was a long silence.
Then the voice on the other end said something that made the rescuer’s face change.
“Say again.”
The reply came.
This time, I heard it too.
“Search-and-rescue records show no missing person matching that description.”
The rescuer stared at the radio.
I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the snow.
“That can’t be.”
He looked down at me.
“Ma’am, what’s your name?”
I told him again.
He repeated it into the radio.
Another silence.
Then:
“Control says the only emergency report in the area was filed by Michael Carter.”
My heart pounded.
“What did he report?”
The rescuer hesitated.
“An accident.”
I stared at him.
“What did he say happened?”
“He reported that his wife fell.”
My fingers curled into the snow.
“He lied.”
“I believe you.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand.”
I forced myself to breathe.
“He didn’t just leave me.”
The rescuer waited.
“He went there expecting me to die.”
A sharp pain ripped through my abdomen.
I cried out.
The rescuer immediately placed a hand near my shoulder.
“Don’t move.”
“My baby…”
“We’re getting both of you out.”
The harness was secured around me.
Every movement sent another wave of pain through my body.
Then, just before they lifted me from the ledge, I looked upward.
Through the curtain of snow, the ridge was almost invisible.
But I could still see one thing.
A set of footprints.
Two people had stood there.
Michael and Ashley.
And beside their footprints was another mark in the snow.
A long, deep line.
Something had been dragged.
I pointed toward it.
“There.”
The rescuer looked.
“What is it?”
“I don’t know.”
But somehow, I knew it mattered.
The helicopter pulled me upward.
And as the ledge disappeared beneath me, I made myself a promise.
If I survived, Michael Carter would regret the day he pushed me.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because I wanted the truth.
And because somewhere inside that storm, I had realized something terrifying.
Michael hadn’t planned only for my death.
He had planned for everyone to believe it.
When I opened my eyes again, there was a ceiling above me.
White.
Bright.
Unfamiliar.
A monitor beeped beside my bed.
For several seconds, I didn’t know where I was.
Then I remembered.
The cliff.
The fall.
Michael.
My hands flew toward my stomach.
A nurse immediately appeared beside me.
“Easy. Easy.”
“My baby?”
The nurse smiled.
“Your son is alive.”
I burst into tears.
For the first time since the fall, I allowed myself to cry.
Not from pain.
Not from fear.
From relief.
“He’s strong,” the nurse said. “The doctors are monitoring you both.”
I closed my eyes.
“Michael…”
The nurse’s expression changed.
“He’s not here.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“He’s been asking for you.”
My heart stopped.
“Who?”
“The police.”
A cold feeling settled over me.
“What did they tell them?”
The nurse hesitated.
“They believe you were involved in an accident.”
Of course they did.
Michael had already built the story.
The grieving husband.
The tragic fall.
The pregnant wife who slipped on the ice.
A horrible accident.
A dead woman.
A grieving husband.
A fifty-million-dollar payout.
Everything fit.
Except one thing.
I was alive.
And Michael didn’t know it.
Three days later, I learned that Michael had already held my funeral.
The police showed me photographs recovered from the scene.
The weather had destroyed most of the evidence.