PART 3
Jessica went completely still.
Margaret Sterling leaned forward.
“What kind of procedure?”
Dr. Jenkins hesitated.
“An embryo transfer.”
The blue ultrasound screen continued glowing behind them.
Nobody spoke.
Carter’s expression changed first.
“What does that have to do with this pregnancy?”
Dr. Jenkins looked at him.
“That depends on something I need to verify.”
Jessica’s face had gone pale.
“Doctor, there must be some mistake.”
“There could be,” Dr. Jenkins said calmly. “That is why I need to check.”
She tapped the screen.
A second set of records appeared.
Then another.
Carter’s jaw tightened.
“What exactly are you checking?”
“The identity of the biological parents listed on the fertility records.”
Jessica suddenly released Carter’s hand.
“There’s no reason to do that.”
Dr. Jenkins looked at her.
“There is if the dates don’t match.”
Margaret stood.
“What are you saying?”
Dr. Jenkins turned the tablet slightly.
“According to this record, Jessica underwent an embryo transfer on November 28, four years ago.”
Jessica swallowed.
“That doesn’t prove anything.”
“No,” the doctor replied. “But the embryo transferred on that date was not originally created for Jessica.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Carter stared at Jessica.
“What?”
Jessica didn’t answer.
“Jessica?”
Still nothing.
Dr. Jenkins continued.
“The embryo was created through a fertility program involving two individuals whose identities are protected by the clinic’s confidentiality policy.”
Richard stepped forward.
“Then how can you know this?”
“Because I’m not asking about the donor identities.”
The doctor paused.
“I’m asking about the intended parents.”
Carter’s face lost its color.
“Who were they?”
Dr. Jenkins looked at the tablet.
“I can’t disclose that information without proper authorization.”
Margaret’s voice sharpened.
“But you’re telling us there is an issue with this pregnancy.”
“I’m telling you that the medical history requires clarification before I can safely interpret the pregnancy timeline.”
Jessica suddenly stood.
“I need to leave.”
Carter grabbed her wrist.
“Not yet.”
She looked at him.
“Carter—”
“Why did you tell me you were fifteen weeks?”
“I made a mistake.”
“Three weeks?”
“I was under stress.”
“Why did you tell everyone this baby was conceived naturally?”
Jessica’s eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t know what else to say.”
Carter stared at her.
For almost a year, he had believed every word she told him.
He had told his parents Jessica was carrying his child.
He had told friends that the baby would carry the Sterling name.
He had told Lauren that his life was moving forward.
And now a doctor was standing in front of him saying something about an embryo transfer four years earlier.
Four years.
Carter suddenly remembered something.
A date.
A hospital.
A conversation Lauren had tried to have with him.
His stomach dropped.
“November 28,” he whispered.
Jessica looked at him.
“What?”
Carter didn’t answer.
Because he remembered.
Four years earlier, Lauren had been pregnant.
Not with Chloe.
Not with Emma.
There had been another pregnancy.
One they had lost.
A pregnancy that had nearly destroyed Lauren emotionally.
Carter had barely spoken about it afterward.
But there was something else.
Something Lauren had told him.
She had said the fertility clinic still had medical records.
She had said the doctor wanted both of them to attend a follow-up appointment.
Carter hadn’t gone.
He had been traveling for work.
Or at least that was what he had told Lauren.
Now he looked at Jessica.
“Where were you four years ago?”
Jessica’s lips parted.
“I don’t understand.”
“November 28.”
“I don’t remember.”
“You just said you underwent an embryo transfer.”
“I said I didn’t know about that record.”
“But the doctor said your name is on it.”
Jessica’s eyes moved toward the door.
Carter noticed.
So did Margaret.
“Jessica,” Margaret said quietly, “what aren’t you telling us?”
Jessica began crying.
But she didn’t answer.
Then Dr. Jenkins received a notification on the tablet.
Her eyes narrowed.
“I need to check something else.”
She stepped away from the group.
Carter followed.
“What?”
The doctor looked uncomfortable.
“There is a notation attached to the fertility record.”
“What notation?”
Dr. Jenkins hesitated.
“It says the original intended mother was required to return for follow-up genetic counseling.”
Carter’s heart began pounding.
“Who was the intended mother?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Doctor, I’m the father of this baby.”
“If you are the biological father, there are procedures we can follow to establish that.”
“If?”
Dr. Jenkins looked at him.
“Yes.”
That single word destroyed the last certainty in the room.
Margaret whispered, “Carter…”
He turned toward Jessica.
“Who is the father?”
Jessica covered her face.
“I don’t know.”
Carter stared.
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve spent eleven months telling me this is my son.”
“I thought it was.”
“You thought?”
Jessica began sobbing.
“I was told the embryo was yours.”
“By whom?”
Silence.
“Jessica!”
She finally whispered:
“Your mother.”
Everyone turned toward Margaret.
Margaret stepped backward.
“What?”
Jessica’s voice shook.
“She told me everything had been arranged.”
Carter looked at his mother.
“What did you arrange?”
Margaret’s face had gone white.
“I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
Jessica shook her head.
“You knew.”
“I did not.”
“You told me Lauren would never find out.”
Carter froze.
Lauren.
His ex-wife’s name had just entered the room.
“Why would my mother talk to you about Lauren?”
Jessica didn’t answer.
Carter stepped closer.
“Why?”
Jessica wiped her tears.
“Because the embryo wasn’t yours.”
Margaret gasped.
Richard grabbed the back of a chair.
Carter’s voice dropped.
“Then whose was it?”
Jessica stared at him.
“I don’t know.”
The doctor interrupted.
“That’s enough.”
Everyone looked at her.
“This conversation is no longer medically productive. I need both the patient and the person claiming paternity to provide consent for additional testing.”
Carter nodded mechanically.
“Do it.”
Jessica looked terrified.
“No.”
Carter turned toward her.
“No?”
“I don’t want a test.”
“Why?”
“Because…”
She couldn’t finish.
Carter pulled out his phone.
“I’m doing it.”
Jessica grabbed his arm.
“Carter, please.”
He looked down at her hand.
Then at her.
“For eleven months, you let me believe I was going to have a son.”
“I was scared.”
“You let my parents spend money on a nursery.”
“I was scared.”
“You let me divorce the mother of my daughters because you told me you were carrying my child.”
Jessica’s face crumpled.
“I never asked you to leave Lauren.”
Carter laughed bitterly.
“No. You just told me you were pregnant.”
The room fell silent.
Then Carter’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Lauren.
He stared at the name.
He hadn’t expected to see it.
He let it ring.
Then it stopped.
A second later, another call came.
This time it was his attorney.
He answered.
“Hello?”
“Carter, where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you.”
“Why?”
“There is a problem with the divorce agreement.”
Carter’s stomach tightened.
“What problem?”
“The relocation provision.”
“What about it?”
“Lauren’s attorney filed the final relocation documents this morning.”
“I know.”
“No, Carter. You don’t understand.”
His attorney lowered his voice.
“The court clerk just contacted us. There was an additional exhibit attached to the filing.”
“What exhibit?”
“I don’t know exactly. It’s sealed.”
“Why?”
“Because it contains medical and financial records.”
Carter stared across the room at Jessica.
“What kind of records?”
“I was told they relate to a fertility clinic.”
Carter’s blood ran cold.
“Which clinic?”
The attorney answered.
“Oakfield.”
Carter slowly lowered the phone.
Jessica saw his face.
“What did he say?”
Carter didn’t answer.
Margaret stepped toward him.
“What is happening?”
He looked at her.
Then at Jessica.
Then at the ultrasound image of the baby who was supposed to become the Sterling heir.
Suddenly, he realized something.
Lauren hadn’t simply left.
She had known something.
She had known enough to prepare.
And she had left immediately after the divorce because she wanted to be far away before whatever was coming happened.
Carter opened his messages.
Thirty-one missed calls weren’t there yet.
Not even close.
He had only made one call to Lauren.
She didn’t answer.
He called again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
He sent a message.
Where are you?
No response.
Another.
Lauren, call me immediately.
Nothing.
Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, I sat beside Chloe and Emma on the airplane.
Seattle was still hours away.
The girls were asleep.
I looked out through the airplane window at the clouds beneath us.
For the first time in years, I felt like I could breathe.
But my phone kept vibrating.
I finally turned it over.
Carter — 7 missed calls.
Then 11.
Then 16.
Then 22.
I didn’t answer.
Not because I wanted revenge.
Because I knew exactly what he wanted.
An explanation.
And I wasn’t ready to give him one.
Not yet.
My friend Megan sat across the aisle.
She looked at my phone.
“How many?”
“Twenty-two.”
She shook her head.
“What happened?”
I opened my handbag.
Inside was a slim blue folder.
The same folder I’d carried out of the courthouse.
Megan’s expression changed.
“You still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure you want to open it?”
I looked at Chloe sleeping against the window.
Then Emma, curled beneath her blanket.
“Yes.”
I opened the folder.
Inside was the document I had received from Oakfield Fertility Institute three days before the divorce hearing.
I had read it so many times that I knew every line.
But there was one page I hadn’t shown anyone.
The page that had changed everything.
At the top was a date.
November 28 — Four Years Earlier.
Below it was a patient identification number.
And underneath that was a note:
Embryo transfer completed. Biological parentage requires additional verification due to documentation discrepancy.
I turned the page.
There were two names.
One was mine.
The other was Carter’s.
My hands trembled.
But I kept reading.
The final paragraph contained a handwritten note from the clinic’s former records administrator:
Patient requested that this matter remain confidential until legal counsel could review the original consent forms.
I had never requested that.
I had never even known the note existed.
Which meant someone had.
Someone had gone into my medical file.
Someone had changed something.
And four years later, that same secret had somehow appeared in Jessica’s pregnancy records.
My phone vibrated again.
This time, the screen showed:
Carter — 31 missed calls.
I stared at it.
Then a new message appeared.
Carter: Lauren, please. I know about Oakfield.
My heart stopped.
Another message came immediately.
Carter: What did my mother do?
I looked at Megan.
She whispered, “He knows?”
I slowly closed the blue folder.
“No.”
“What?”
“He doesn’t know everything.”
I looked down at the document in my lap.
“He only knows enough to be afraid.”
Then my phone rang again.
This time, it wasn’t Carter.
It was an unknown number.
I answered.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice spoke quietly.
“Mrs. Vance?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Daniel Brooks. I’m an attorney representing Oakfield Fertility Institute.”
I sat upright.
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because we’ve located the original consent document.”
My fingers tightened around the folder.
“What consent document?”
“The one your former husband never knew existed.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“What does it say?”
There was a long pause.
Then he said:
“Mrs. Vance, four years ago, you did not lose your baby.”
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
“The pregnancy was transferred to another patient.”
My entire body went cold.
“Who?”
The attorney hesitated.
Then he said a name.
“Jessica Thorne.”
I couldn’t speak.
Megan stared at me.
I whispered:
“That’s impossible.”
“No,” he replied.
“It’s worse than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“The embryo Jessica is carrying may not belong to her.”
I gripped the phone.
“Then whose baby is it?”
Daniel Brooks answered:
“Yours and Carter’s.”
And suddenly, the entire story of my marriage changed.
Because the child everyone was celebrating as Carter’s new heir…
might actually be the baby I had been told was dead four years ago.
PART 4
The words stayed in the air long after Daniel stopped speaking.
“Yours and Carter’s.”
I couldn’t move.
I couldn’t breathe.
I couldn’t even hear the airplane anymore.
All I could hear was one sentence repeating inside my head.
The baby you were told was dead.
Four years ago, I had sat in a cold hospital room with Carter beside me.
I remembered everything.
The gray curtains.
The smell of disinfectant.
The doctor’s careful expression.
The way Carter had stared at the floor instead of looking at me.
And the words that had shattered me.
“There is no viable pregnancy.”
I had cried until I couldn’t make a sound.
Carter had held my hand for perhaps thirty seconds before his phone rang.
He had stepped into the hallway.
I remembered watching him through the glass.
He had answered the call.
Then he had smiled.
Just for a second.
At the time, I thought I was imagining it.
I thought grief was making me suspicious.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
“Mr. Brooks,” I whispered, “what exactly are you telling me?”
“The embryo transfer records indicate that the embryo created from your eggs and Mr. Sterling’s sperm was transferred into another patient.”
“Without my permission?”
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“How?”
“That is what we’re trying to establish.”
“You said you found the original consent document.”
“We did.”
“What does it say?”
Daniel took a breath.
“It indicates that the transfer was supposed to occur only after your written authorization.”
“But I never gave authorization.”
“I know.”
“Then who signed it?”
There was silence.
“Mr. Brooks?”
“We believe the signature may have been forged.”
My hands started shaking.
“By whom?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But you have the document.”
“Yes.”
“Then you should know whose handwriting it is.”
“That is why I’m calling you.”
I looked toward Chloe.
She was still asleep.
Emma had shifted beneath her blanket.
They had no idea that their mother’s entire understanding of their family was being torn apart thousands of feet above the ground.
Daniel continued.
“There is another problem.”
“What?”
“The transfer date.”
“What about it?”
“The transfer happened four years ago.”