Three weeks after my husband died, I was eight months pregnant when my father walked into my kitchen with his young wife and told me I had to leave my own house. When I refused, he forced me onto the porch, and my water broke. He thought grief had made me helpless. But the moment I called my husband’s attorney, his entire plan began to collapse.

I froze, the freezing wind whipping my hair across my face as I stared at the man who was supposed to be dead.

"You're alive," I breathed out, the shock making my knees weak.

Richard laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed over the crashing waves below the pier.

"Did you really think that idiot Bianca could outsmart me?" he sneered, keeping the gun leveled at my heart.

"The body in my office was one of my hired thugs, dressed in my clothes, shot in the face to prevent immediate identification."

He had faked his own death to frame me, clear his debts, and escape with the offshore money.

"Where is Bianca?" I asked, gripping the fake biometric scanner tightly in my sweating palm.

"Floating at the bottom of the bay," Richard said casually.

"She got greedy, tried to steal the flash drive for herself, so I had to eliminate the competition."

He stepped closer, the moonlight reflecting off the cold steel of the gun barrel.

"Now, you are going to put your thumb on that scanner, authorize the final transfer, and then join her in the water."

Through the hidden earpiece in my ear, I heard Agent Harris's voice crackle to life.

"Keep him talking, Elena, SWAT is moving into position around the perimeter."

"You murdered Nathan for this money," I yelled over the sound of the wind, making sure the wire picked up every word.

"Nathan was a fool who threatened to expose my business," Richard spat back angrily.

"I paid the driver, I staged the crash, and I would do it again to secure my fortune."

"Got it," Agent Harris's voice echoed in my ear. "We have the full confession."

Suddenly, blinding floodlights erupted from all sides of the abandoned pier, cutting through the thick fog.

"FBI! Drop your weapon immediately!" a dozen voices commanded over heavy bullhorns.

Richard panicked, realizing he had walked directly into a massive federal trap.

Instead of dropping the gun, he lunged forward, grabbing me by the throat and pressing the barrel of the gun against my temple.

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

"Back off, or I blow her head off!" Richard screamed at the approaching tactical teams.

I was trapped in his grip, the cold metal of the gun digging into my skin.

Chapter 9 - The Ghost on the Pier