My husband thought the mountain had buried me and our unborn son forever. At my own funeral, he stood beside an empty casket, performing grief for cameras while his mistress wore my diamond bracelet. What he didn’t know was that I had survived the fall, my baby was alive, and my real father was walking me toward the cathedral doors to expose every lie.

The horrific silence that followed the explosion above me was heavier and more terrifying than the gunfire had been.

I sat in the damp, freezing darkness of the sewer tunnel, weeping uncontrollably as I rocked my terrified, shivering son.

I had no idea if Richard and Thorne were dead, captured, or buried under thousands of pounds of collapsed concrete.

But I knew that sitting in the dark waiting to be hunted down was an absolute guaranteed death sentence for my child.

I forced myself to stand up, my legs trembling from exhaustion, and began walking blindly through the labyrinth of underground pipes.

Hours passed in a terrifying blur of cold water, rats, and the constant, overwhelming fear that Evan’s men were right behind me.

Eventually, I saw a faint sliver of pale moonlight bleeding through a heavy iron grate set into the ceiling of the tunnel.

I climbed the rusted metal ladder with one arm, using every last ounce of my strength to push the heavy iron cover aside.

I crawled out onto the wet pavement of a dark, empty alleyway, gasping for fresh air as the cold city rain washed over me.

I looked up and realized exactly where the ancient sewer line had deposited me.

I was standing directly behind the luxurious Plaza Hotel, where the Whitmore Atlantic charity gala was currently in full swing.

Through the massive glass windows of the grand ballroom, I could see hundreds of wealthy elites mingling in their expensive tuxedos and gowns.

I looked down at the blood-red dress I was wearing, completely ruined by dirt, sewer water, and dried blood.

I didn't care how insane I looked, because absolute fury had completely burned away any remaining shred of fear in my soul.

I walked past the shocked security guards at the loading dock, ignoring their frantic shouts as I marched straight toward the main ballroom doors.

I pushed the heavy mahogany double doors open with such violent force that they slammed against the walls like a gunshot.

The elegant string quartet stopped playing instantly, and the entire ballroom plunged into a shocked, deathly silence.

Every single eye in the room turned to look at the filthy, bloody woman holding a newborn baby in the doorway.

Evan was standing on the main stage under a massive crystal chandelier, holding a microphone and wiping fake tears from his eyes.

He froze completely, his face turning the color of chalk as he stared at the wife he thought he had successfully murdered twice.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

I walked slowly down the center aisle, my heels clicking loudly on the polished marble floor.

Before I could say a word, Marcus Vance stepped out from the shadows behind the stage and pointed a silver revolver directly at my baby's head.

Chapter 7 - The Blood Red Dress