The night before I was supposed to give birth, I overheard my husband offering my doctor $500,000 to make sure I never left the delivery room alive. I was eight months and three weeks pregnant, lying perfectly still in my hospital bed while the man I had loved for seven years whispered from the sitting room of my private suite.

Vanessa stared at me with eyes full of pure, unadulterated hatred that sent chills down my spine.

She did not look like the sweet, innocent marketing consultant who had smiled at me during Christmas dinner.

She looked exactly like a ruthless woman who was entirely tired of waiting for a twelve-million-dollar payday.

I screamed for Ethan, but the deafening chaos of the evacuating crowd completely drowned out my voice.

Vanessa swung the heavy red fire extinguisher directly at my head with terrifying force.

I ducked just in time, feeling the violent rush of air as the solid metal smashed into the drywall behind me.

I scrambled backward on the slick floor, desperately clutching my stomach to protect my unborn child.

Vanessa dropped the dented extinguisher and lunged at me, her manicured hands grabbing roughly at my throat.

She pinned me forcefully against the hallway wall, completely ignoring the screaming nurses and patients running past us.

She hissed directly into my ear that she was going to take absolutely everything from me, starting with my life.

I choked and clawed wildly at her hands, but her adrenaline-fueled grip was surprisingly strong.

My vision started to blur at the dark edges as oxygen stopped reaching my desperate brain.

Suddenly, a massive pair of hands grabbed Vanessa by the shoulders and violently ripped her away from my body.

I collapsed to the floor, gasping hungrily for air as Ethan stood tall and protective over me.

He had completely knocked Vanessa unconscious with a single, calculated strike to her jaw.

Ethan quickly pulled me to my feet and threw my arm securely over his broad shoulder.

He said we had to use the rusty service elevator because the real police were arriving to secure the burning building.

We limped as fast as we could toward the back corridors of the hospital, leaving the smoke and confusion behind.

We stepped into the large service elevator, and Ethan frantically slammed the button for the basement parking garage.

I leaned heavily against the cold metal wall, sobbing in sheer relief that I was finally safe with my brother.

The elevator doors slowly opened to the dark, damp, and completely empty basement level.

Ethan led me toward his parked black SUV, keeping a highly watchful eye on the dark concrete shadows.

He unlocked the vehicle doors with his fob, and I eagerly reached for the passenger side handle.

A loud gunshot echoed through the concrete garage, shattering the back window of Ethan's car into a million pieces.

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

Ethan grunted in agonizing pain and fell straight to his knees, clutching his heavily bleeding shoulder.

Daniel stepped out from behind a thick concrete pillar, holding a smoking black handgun aimed right at us.

Chapter 4 - The Mistress