My Husband Made My Baby Thrown Off The Drop Tower Ride Novel – My husband’s first love had spiraled into a depressive episode and leapt from the top of a building. In a blind fury, he hauled me—eight months pregnant—to a derelict amusement park and strapped me to the seat of a drop tower ride.
His men stood motionless, their expressions vacant as they secured my wrists and ankles to the cold, unyielding metal. “If you hadn’t provoked Seraphina,” he hissed, his voice trembling with barely contained rage, “would she have broken down and jumped?” Terrified of heights, I clawed at the restraints, my swollen belly pressing against them, making each breath a struggle.
Tears streaked down my cheeks as I choked out an apology, my voice breaking under the weight of my fear. “Cassius, please… let me go. I promised—I swore—I’d never show my face to Seraphina again.” But my husband only stared at me, his gaze icy and unfeeling.
“Elara,” he said, his tone disturbingly calm, almost tender, “for the sake of the child, I won’t divorce you.” The gentleness in his voice made his next words cut even deeper. “But the pain you’ve caused Seraphina—I want you to repay it a hundredfold… no, a thousand times over.” With that, Cassius ordered the drop tower ride to run nonstop for an hour, then turned and walked away without so much as a backward glance.
The machinery jolted violently as the ride rumbled to life, metal groaning under its weight. My seat lurched, yanking me upward, higher and higher, until the ground blurred beneath me. I thrashed against the restraints, screaming until my throat felt like it had been scraped raw.
Every sudden drop sent my stomach plunging, the terror so suffocating that the edges of my vision darkened. Then, without warning, agony tore through me. A sharp, unbearable pain ripped through my core, white-hot and unrelenting.
A rush of liquid gushed between my legs, drenching my dress, pooling beneath me. Somewhere between the sky and the earth, my child was stolen from me. The next day, Cassius finally acknowledged my existence. “Elara, Seraphina’s doing fine now.” His voice was utterly indifferent.
“If you apologize to her, I’ll let you down.” He had no idea. None of them did. That long before his words reached me, the cold steel beneath my body had already been soaked in blood. Our child had been lost to the wind and reduced to silence, with flesh torn.