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On our seventh wedding anniversary, my husband, Oliver Gardner, took me to his brand-new hotel. Before we could finish our dinner, the entire building caught fire. Smoke filled every hallway, and we were trapped on the rooftop. The helicopter finally arrived, but it could only take two people at a time. Oliver's secretary, Eloise Banks, was clutching her chest, struggling to breathe. Without hesitation, Oliver shoved me aside and secured her to the rope. He said, "Vanessa, you're stronger. You can hold on for five more minutes. Eloise has asthma. She won't make it." However, five minutes later, the building collapsed, and I fell into the flames. As my consciousness slipped away, my phone lit up. It was a message from the OB-GYN. [Mrs. Gardner, congratulations. You are four weeks pregnant.]