Chapter 2 - The Overlook
Hours earlier, Michael Carter had driven me into Rocky Mountain National Park with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually on my knee. He had been gentle that morning, almost too gentle, carrying my bag, opening doors, telling me the mountain air would help me sleep before the baby came. I was nine months pregnant, swollen, exhausted, and ready for our son to arrive. The last thing I wanted was a winter overlook hike, but Michael insisted it would be our last quiet trip before parenthood changed everything.
I wanted to believe him.
Marriage teaches you dangerous habits when you have spent years explaining away coldness as stress. Michael had been distant for months. Late nights. Hidden calls. Insurance paperwork he brushed off as “responsible planning.” A new assistant named Ashley who texted too often and smiled too hard when I visited his office. Every doubt I had, he turned into hormones. Every question became proof that pregnancy had made me anxious.
At the overlook, the world was brutally beautiful. Snow covered the pines. The sky was sharp blue. The cliff dropped into white silence so deep it felt unreal. I stood near the railing with one hand on my belly, telling Michael we should go back to the lodge. The wind was getting stronger. My feet were numb. The baby shifted under my palm.
Michael did not answer at first.
Then he said, “Do you know how much fifty million dollars changes?”
I turned, confused. “What?”
His face looked wrong. Calm, but empty. The way a room feels after someone has already packed what matters and left the lights on. “You were always so trusting, Emma.”
I took one step back.
May you like
He moved faster.
His hands struck my shoulders, and the world vanished beneath me.
