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.”
