Pushed From Ten Thousand Feet By Love

After Bradley made it big, I became the timid, cowering little wife in his circle.

At cocktail parties, his friends would sneer, "Is this the nanny you brought along?"

He never said a word. After that, he stopped taking me anywhere his friends would be. Until this weekend.

Until, to curry favor with his wealthy partners and a ruthless socialite, he forced me into a solo skydive-to "earn" his marriage proposal.

"I can't. I'm pregnant... I can't do this," I begged through my tears.

Not only did he refuse to help me-he sneered and pressed the sole of his boot against my chest:

"Don't try to fool me with that pregnancy nonsense. This is just exposure therapy. I will not marry a coward."

When I pulled the ripcord, the parachute never opened.

My parachute had long ago been swapped out for a solid steel counterweight weighing more than forty-five pounds in all.

I smashed into the canyon floor and was shattered to pieces. My unborn child and I died on the spot.

As a ghost, I watched Bradley laughing and chatting in the VIP lounge, mocking my "timidity and weakness."

My heart died completely that day.

Bradley-what will your face look like when you finally see that positive pregnancy test, and learn our baby was six weeks along?

Chapter 1

Alexis Lane's POV:

At ten thousand feet, Bradley shoved me out of the helicopter's door, all because he claimed my fear of heights had humiliated him in front of his friends.

He also said that if I could survive this solo skydive, he would give me the six-carat pink diamond ring tucked in his jacket pocket.

I clung for dear life to the metal frame of the open door, the biting Nevada wind nearly tearing my thin flight suit to shreds.

My knuckles had gone white from gripping the handle so hard.

"Bradley, please!" I screamed over the deafening roar of the rotors.

"I really can't jump. I feel awful-I've had cramps in my stomach since this morning. Please, just let me sit back down."

Bradley looked down at me from above, designer sunglasses on his face, dressed in a custom black flight suit.

He made no move whatsoever to pull me back in.

He crossed his arms, his jaw clenched into that cold, disappointed curve I knew all too well.

"We've been over this, Alexis," Bradley's voice came through my helmet earphones, flat and without a ripple of emotion.

"For five years you've been hiding in your shell. My partners think you're a dead weight they have to carry out of charity. I'm not going to propose to a woman who trembles at a little adrenaline rush."

Behind him in the cabin, Cecily Harrington smoothed her silk scarf and let out a soft laugh.

"Bradley's right, Lexi," Cecily chimed in sweetly, her immaculately manicured hand waving her sparkling water as she leaned forward slightly.

"A tech CEO worth tens of billions needs a partner who matches him-not a frightened child who bolts every time a social occasion gets uncomfortable. This is nothing but exposure therapy. We've all done solo jumps years ago."

Bradley's core venture capital partners, Dylan Austin and Hunter Pace, were sitting in the leather seats drinking beer.

"Come on, Alexis!" Dylan shouted, holding up his phone to record my face.

"Don't ruin the weekend vibes! Bradley spent fifty thousand dollars chartering this helicopter just to throw you this little test!"

"Still looks like the nanny, though."

"Look how she's shaking," Hunter said with a laugh, adjusting the camera angle.

"She looks like she's about to wet her pants."

Tears blurred my vision. The freezing wind lashed at my cheeks.

I lifted my head and looked at the man I had spent every day and night with for five years.

Back then, when he was writing the first version of his software in a dim, cold, run-down garage, I cooked him three meals a day, never repeating a dish.

Before he secured his first round of funding, I worked two jobs around the clock at a 24-hour diner, breaking my back to cover his server rent.

And now, he looked at me the way an executive reviews a flawed, discarded report.

"Bradley, I'm begging you," I sobbed, my voice completely hoarse.

"I... believe it or not, I'm pregnant. I really don't feel well."

Bradley snorted coldly and glanced down at the luxury gold watch on his wrist.

"You have ten seconds to jump on your own, Alexis," he said, his voice utterly devoid of warmth. "Don't think you can fool me with that flimsy excuse. So many people are watching-don't embarrass me."

"Bradley! I'm begging you, I really am pregnant, please-" I begged again through my tears.

"Five seconds," he cut me off coldly.

Cecily peeked out from behind his shoulder and gave me a faint smile, her eyes full of undisguised malice.

"Prove to him that you deserve to be the lady of the Evans family, Lexi," Cecily murmured.

I shook my head in despair, clinging to that metal handle with every last ounce of strength left in my exhausted body.

Bradley didn't even wait for the countdown to finish.

He stepped forward, raised the heavy sole of his military boot, and drove it hard into the harness across my chest, kicking me out into the endless sky.

The sudden free fall instantly drained the air from my lungs.

I fell on my back, tumbling into the desolate, vast, tan-colored void of the Nevada canyon.

The helicopter's roar faded in an instant, replaced by the sharp, piercing shriek of wind in my ears.

The ground spun violently beneath me-red earth, jagged rocks, and withered shrubs whirling madly through my vision.

"Pull the cord at four thousand feet!" Bradley's crackling, cold command came through my earpiece.

"Don't freeze up!"

I tumbled and struggled in the biting airstream, desperately trying to steady my limbs as they spun out of control.

As the air pressure dropped, wave after wave of excruciating pain tore through my lower abdomen.

I glanced at the altimeter on my left wrist.

Five thousand feet.

Four thousand feet.

I reached for the ripcord handle at my right hip, seized the rubber grip, and yanked with all my strength.

Nothing happened.

No jerk of resistance came from the harness.

No canopy blossomed above my head.

I promptly pulled the emergency cutaway handle and yanked madly at the reserve chute cords.

From inside the canvas pack came a dull, jarring metallic crash slamming against my back.

The reserve chute never deployed.

I had felt it was heavy on the ground. I just hadn't dared say so in front of them. Now, in the air, the pack dragged my spine downward and hurled me toward the canyon floor at a terrifying speed.

The jagged boulders rushed up to meet me at a staggering speed of over one hundred and twenty miles per hour.

In the last three seconds of free fall, I stopped screaming.

I looked up at the pristine blue sky, where the helicopter had become a calm, hovering black dot.

In that moment, I finally understood: Bradley had never loved me.

I closed my eyes and gently cradled my belly with both hands.

"I'm sorry..." I whispered into the wind.

At the moment of impact, the world fell into absolute silence.

There was no prolonged agony-only a blinding flash of white, followed by the crisp sound of bones shattering against hard granite.

Then, my gaze slowly rose.

I found myself floating twenty feet above the ground, looking down at the boulder stained red with blood.

My broken, twisted body lay crumpled among the scattered wreckage of the parachute pack.

The canvas had burst apart completely under the violent impact.

Scattered across the rust-red rocks, inside the torn main container, was no nylon cord, no emergency silk canopy-

but three black cast-iron barbell plates, bound tightly together with heavy-duty tape, a combined forty-five pounds of dead iron!

Dangling from the torn straps was a laminated inventory tag: PROPERTY OF THE SUMMIT RESORT GYM - CHECKED OUT TO: D. REYES, GUEST SERVICES.

So she had never intended for me to leave that plane alive.

Inside the glass cockpit, Bradley was laughing and chatting with his friends, utterly oblivious to the horror unfolding on the rock below.