My Husband Left Me To Die In An Elevator To Save His Mistress — So I Stripped Him Of His Billion Dollar Empire
Part 1
The grand ballroom felt like a cage of gold and glass.
I stood near the ice sculpture while my back ached from the weight of my pregnancy.
My silver dress clung to my skin in the oppressive heat of the crowded room.
Greg was busy shaking hands with investors near the main bar.
He always looked perfect in his tailored suits and polished shoes.
I watched him smile at people he secretly despised.
That was the secret to his success in the real estate business.
He knew exactly how to make everyone feel important while taking their money.
I pressed a hand to my stomach and felt a dull ache.
My doctor had warned me to avoid stress during the first trimester.
I told Greg I wanted to go home.
Nodding, he asked me to come up to his private office first to grab a folder.
Exhausted and desperate to take off my shoes, I agreed.
Together, we walked toward the private lift at the back of the lobby.
Heather was waiting by the doors with a clipboard against her chest.
She ran his investor relations department and wore a crimson dress that left little to the imagination.
Greg told her to come up with us to discuss the morning meeting.
She smiled and stepped into the small metal box with us.
I leaned against the back wall and closed my eyes as the doors slid shut.
The motor hummed and we began to rise through the towering structure.
Then a loud crack echoed through the shaft.
The lights died instantly.
The metal box jerked to a violent halt.
I slammed against the handrail and gasped as pain shot through my lower back.
Greg shouted something into the darkness.
Heather let out a piercing scream that rang in my ears.
The emergency bulb flickered on and bathed us in a faint red glow.
The air vents stopped blowing.
I could already feel the temperature rising in the confined space.
Greg slammed his fist against the control panel.
Nothing happened.
He pulled out his phone and cursed when he saw zero signal.
Heather started pacing in the tiny space like a trapped animal.
She breathed rapidly and clawed at the neckline of her dress.
I sat heavily on the floor because my legs could no longer support me.
The heat became thick and unbearable within the first hour.
Greg paced back and forth while muttering about his ruined schedule.
He never once asked how I was feeling.
Heather sat in the corner and cried softly into her hands.
I watched my husband take off his expensive jacket and wrap it around her trembling shoulders.
He whispered soft words to her that he had not spoken to me in years.
I placed both hands over my stomach and prayed for my baby.
The cramping started during the third hour.
It began as a dull throb and sharpened into a terrifying agony.
I bit my lip until I tasted copper to keep from screaming.
“The pain is getting worse,” I gasped.
Annoyance flashed in his eyes as he told me to just breathe and stop making Heather more anxious.
Staring at him in disbelief, I felt another wave of pain rip through me.
He tightened his protective grip on her shaking shoulders while completely ignoring my agonized gasp.
We sat in that suffocating heat for seven torturous hours.
The smell of burned wire and stale sweat filled my lungs.
I counted my breaths while the cramping intensified.
I thought about my mother and how she had never trusted him.
I thought about the massive family trust I used to fund his empire.
Heather began to hyperventilate during the sixth hour.
She clutched Greg by his shirt and begged him to save her.
He held her close and promised he would not let her die.
I watched them hold each other while my world slowly collapsed.
Then a heavy thud echoed from the roof of the cabin.
Metal scraped against metal as the ceiling hatch was forced open.
A beam of pure white light cut through the red darkness.
A rescuer peered down at us with a soot covered face.
He shouted that the cables were unstable and tearing under the strain.
He said the shift in weight could send the box plunging to the basement.
He told us they could only pull one person out safely before resetting the rig.
He demanded to know who was the most critical.
I opened my mouth to speak but the pain stole my voice.
Greg pointed directly at the blonde woman clutching his arm.
He yelled that Heather needed to go first because she was panicking.
The rescuer hesitated and looked down at my swollen stomach.
He asked if the other woman was pregnant.
I waited for my husband to tell the truth and save his child.
Greg looked right into my eyes with a cold and calculating stare.
He turned back to the man above us and lied without blinking.
He declared that I was perfectly stable.
I watched in horror as he hoisted Heather up toward the open hatch.
He pushed her toward safety while I sat bleeding on the dirty floor.
He climbed halfway up the ladder to help her through the opening.
I called his name with the last bit of strength in my lungs.
He paused on the ladder but refused to look down at me.
He promised he would come back.
The rescuer pulled Heather up and Greg followed right behind her.
The heavy metal hatch slammed shut above me.
The red emergency light blinked once and died completely.
I sat alone in the dark elevator as the metal groaned, wondering if the father of my child had just left me there to die.
