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He Signed for $50 Million—Then His Pregnant Wife Walked Into Her Funeral / Chapter 4 / 6

Chapter 4 — He Signed for $50 Million—Then His Pregnant Wife Walked Into Her Funeral

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Carrying his child.

Able to describe exactly where he stood, exactly how he gripped my elbow and exactly what he did with both hands.

Carter pointed at the folder.

“That proves nothing.”

My father hadn’t opened it yet.

“Interesting,” he said.

“You don’t know what’s in it.”

Carter realized his mistake.

His mistress realized it too.

She edged another step away from him.

He turned on her.

“Don’t start acting innocent now.”

Her face changed.

“I never told you to kill her.”

The words flew into the cathedral before she could take them back.

Several people gasped.

Carter stared at her in disbelief.

She covered her mouth.

My father remained completely still.

I felt my baby move again.

Carter’s voice dropped dangerously low.

“You need to shut up.”

“No,” she said, louder now.

“You told me she would be gone.

You said the mountain would make it look like an accident.”

Carter lunged one step toward her.

Two officials positioned near the aisle immediately moved between them.

He stopped.

Everything he had controlled was slipping away at once.

His wife was alive.

His child was alive.

The insurance company knew.

His mistress was talking.

And the billionaire whose money he intended to steal was standing beside me as my father.

Carter looked at me with open hatred.

“You set me up.”

I almost smiled at the absurdity.

“You pushed me off a cliff.”

He flinched.

“You set yourself up.”

My father finally opened the folder.

Inside were the claim statements Carter had signed, records concerning the policy, documented inconsistencies in his account, and evidence gathered after my recovery.

There was no single magical page that solved everything.

There didn’t need to be.

Carter’s plan depended on one assumption: that the only witness to what happened on the ridge would never speak.

I was that witness.

And I was standing ten feet away from him.

He tried one final time.

His shoulders dropped.

His face softened.

The old husband-mask returned.

“Audrey,” he said, almost tenderly.

“Baby, you’re hurt.

You don’t know what you’re saying.

Come here.

We’ll figure this out together.”