Pregnant and On My Final Ride

My husband's first love had a depressive episode and jumped off a building.

In a fit of rage, he dragged me—eight months pregnant—to an abandoned amusement park and strapped me to a drop tower ride. His men stood by, their faces blank as they bound my wrists and ankles to the cold metal seat.

"If you hadn't provoked Sienna, would she have had a breakdown and jumped?"

Terrified of heights, I clutched at the restraints, my swollen belly making it hard to breathe. Tears streamed down my face as I admitted my mistake, my voice cracking as I begged him, "Hugh, please... let me go.