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At 2:17 a.m., I woke to the choking smell of smoke. Grant was gone. Flames danced beneath the bedroom door, and both exits had been locked from the outside.
Through the window, I saw him standing beside our SUV with Brooke.
“She’s awake,” Brooke whispered nervously.
Grant’s cold reply shattered whatever love I had left for him.
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“The insurance will pay $30 million. Once her shares go through probate, everything will be ours.”
Then Brooke asked about my baby.
Grant looked toward the burning cabin and said, “If they both die, there won’t be two investigations.”
In that moment, I understood that the man I had loved was willing to murder me and our innocent child for money.
As the flames swallowed the cabin, I remembered a secret passage my mother had shown me as a little girl. Desperate and terrified, I crawled through the narrow tunnel, shielding my unborn son with my trembling arms.
