After Faking My Death, My Stalker Husband Drowned

The small plane touched down on a private airstrip carved into the Colorado mountainside, and my stomach lurched—not from the landing, but from what I saw through the window. Jagged peaks stretched endlessly into a steel-gray sky, their snow-capped summits disappearing into low-hanging clouds. My fingers dug into the armrest as vertigo hit me even from inside the aircraft.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gabriel's voice held an edge I'd never heard before, sharp as the mountain ridges surrounding us.

I couldn't answer. My throat had closed up the moment we'd begun our descent through the mountains. He knew—God, he knew—how heights paralyzed me. How I'd spent our honeymoon in Switzerland locked in our hotel room, unable to even look at the Alps through the window.

"Come on, Tessa." His hand closed around my wrist, firm but not quite gentle. "We're here."

The cold hit like a physical blow as we stepped onto the tarmac. March in Colorado was brutal, the thin air making each breath feel insufficient. A black SUV waited nearby, engine running, and Gabriel guided me toward it with that same insistent pressure on my back.

"Where are we going?" I managed to ask as we climbed in.

He didn't answer immediately, checking his phone instead. Another message from Olivia—I could tell by the way his jaw tightened, the slight curve of his lips. When he finally looked at me, his eyes held a strange intensity.

"There's something I need you to do," he said. "For us. For our family."

The SUV wound up narrow mountain roads, each turn revealing drops that made my vision blur. I pressed myself against the seat, eyes fixed straight ahead, trying not to see the guardrail-less edges where the road fell away into nothing.

"Gabriel, please. Where are we going?"

"To prove a point." His voice was calm, reasonable, as if we were discussing dinner plans. "Olivia wants to try wingsuit flying. Do you know how dangerous that is?"

My heart stuttered. "What does that have to do with—"

"Everything." He turned to face me fully, and I saw something desperate in his expression. "She won't listen to me. Says I'm being overprotective. But if she sees someone else try it, sees how terrifying it really is..."

The realization hit me like ice water. "No. Gabriel, no. I can't—"

"Just once." His hand found mine, squeezing too tight. "One demonstration. That's all I'm asking."

"I'm pregnant!" The words tore from my throat. "I'm five months pregnant, and you want me to—"

"It's perfectly safe when done correctly." He squeezed harder. "There will be instructors, proper equipment. I just need her to see..."

The SUV stopped. Through the windshield, I saw a small building perched on a cliff edge, colorful parachutes and wingsuits visible through its windows. My whole body began to shake.

"I can't." Tears streamed down my face. "Gabriel, you know I can't. The heights, the baby—"

"Do this for our family." His voice softened, becoming the gentle tone I'd fallen in love with years ago. But underneath it was something else—a thread of steel that wouldn't bend. "Do this one thing, Tessa, and I promise you—I'll focus only on you. On us. On our child."

He helped me from the car, my legs barely supporting me. The wind up here was vicious, cutting through my coat like it was tissue paper. The building seemed to teeter on the edge of the world, nothing but sky and death beyond it.

"Mr. Bennett!" A man in his thirties approached, all smiles and enthusiasm. "Everything's ready as you requested. Your wife can suit up inside."

I grabbed Gabriel's arm. "Please. Please don't make me do this."

For a moment, something flickered across his face—doubt, maybe, or even guilt. Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his expression hardened again.

"Think of it as conquering your fear," he said, guiding me toward the building. "For our baby. Don't you want to be brave for our child?"

Inside, the walls were covered with photos of people in wingsuits, arms spread like flying squirrels as they plummeted through clouds. My knees buckled, and only Gabriel's grip kept me upright.

"I'll be monitoring everything," he promised, his lips close to my ear. "Trust me, Tessa. Have I ever let anything happen to you?"

I wanted to scream that this was letting something happen. That asking his acrophobic, pregnant wife to jump off a mountain was insane. But the instructors were already approaching with equipment, and Gabriel's hand on my back was pushing me forward, forward, toward a edge I couldn't see but could feel waiting for me like an open mouth.

And somewhere in the distance, I swear I heard his phone buzz again.