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
