Chương 3
“The identification number, the profile, the university history, the age, the photographs in the donor file. He knew details that were not public.”
“You were not supposed to learn his identity.”
“I was not supposed to learn that our child might have inherited a lethal cardiac mutation from a clinic that ignored an update.”
“Don’t say lethal.”
“That is the word the cardiologist used.”
“What cardiologist?”
“The one I saw yesterday.”
Harrison stared at her.
Brittany’s eyes hardened through the tears. “Yes. I went without you. I called your office. Martin said you were unavailable until after the Chicago presentation.”
“You should have called my cell.”
“I did.”
He reached for his phone. There were eleven missed calls from the last hour, all from family members, and beneath them a call from Brittany at 8:42 the previous morning. He had been in a conference room reviewing rent projections. He remembered dismissing it and sending an automatic message.
In a meeting. Call you tonight.
He had not called.
At ten, Brittany had asked whether he was still awake. He had replied with a photograph of his hotel room service and the caption, Living the dream.
Harrison put the phone facedown.
“What did the cardiologist say?”
“That the ultrasound marker may be nothing. That we need Gabriel’s genetic test before deciding whether amniocentesis is justified. That there are risks to every option, and none of them can be handled by pretending the biology is different.”
Harrison rubbed his thumb across the edge of the photograph. “My mother must have had you followed.”
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t Gabriel tell me?”
“He doesn’t know you.”
“I signed the donor agreement.”
“You selected a number from a catalog.”
“We selected him together.”
“You selected height, eye color, athletic history, and a voice recording that sounded enough like you to make you comfortable.”
“That is not fair.”
“It is exactly fair.”
Harrison rose too quickly, then steadied himself against the table. “We are leaving.”
Brittany did not move.
“Brittany.”
“Where?”
“Home.”
“Your mother has keys.”
“I will have the locks changed.”
“She has staff.”
“Then the staff will be dismissed.”
“You say things as though people disappear when you decide they are inconvenient.”
“I am trying to get you out of a clinic full of relatives who will be calling reporters before they reach the elevator.”
“They are your relatives.”
“I noticed.”
Brittany stood slowly. The movement required more effort than she wanted him to see. Harrison reached toward her elbow, and she stepped away.
“You let them believe I cheated.”
“It had been thirty seconds.”
“You had thirty seconds to protect me.”
“I was standing in front of a genetic report that destroyed everything.”
Her hand returned to her stomach. “Everything?”
Harrison looked at the ultrasound again.
He did not answer quickly enough.
Brittany removed the engagement ring.
The diamond caught the window light as she placed it on top of the closed ring box. Patricia had brought the box that afternoon because she wanted photographs of the champagne toast, the ultrasound, the trust agreement, and what she called the continuation of the Vale line arranged together.
“You don’t get to call our baby nothing because your mother’s document closed,” Brittany said.
“I did not say that.”
“You did worse.”
She walked to the door.
Harrison followed. “Where are you going?”
“To a hotel.”
“I’ll take you.”
“No.”
“You should not drive upset.”
“I did not bring a car.”
“Then I’ll have Martin take you.”
“Your assistant is also named Martin. Please do not send him after me while you stay here and plan your statement.”
“That is not what I’m doing.”
She opened the door. Patricia stood in the corridor ten feet away, speaking into her phone.
The moment she saw them, she ended the call.
Brittany stopped.
Patricia’s gaze dropped to Brittany’s bare left hand, then moved to Harrison.
“I have arranged a car,” Patricia said.
“For whom?” Harrison asked.
“For her.”
“No.”
Brittany stepped into the corridor. “I’ll take it.”
Harrison turned toward her. “You just said—”
“I would rather spend ten minutes in your mother’s car than ten more seconds watching you decide whether I am worth defending.”
Patricia’s mouth shifted, not quite a smile. “The driver will take you wherever you need to go.”
“Patricia,” Richard said from near the elevators, “leave it.”
“I am being civil.”
“You are never more dangerous than when you are being civil.”
The elevator doors opened. Three of the relatives crowded inside, pretending not to stare. Brittany walked toward them. Harrison caught up with her before she reached the elevator.
“Give me an hour,” he said.
“For what?”
“To understand what happened.”
“You know what happened.”
“I know pieces.”
“You know the only piece that mattered in that room.”
The elevator doors began to close. Harrison put one hand between them, forcing them apart.
Brittany looked at him. “Move.”
“I will call you.”
“I know.”
“That means answer.”
“No, Harrison. It means I know you will call.”
She stepped into the elevator. He let the doors close.
Patricia waited until the floor indicator began to descend. “You should have allowed the driver to take her directly to the airport.”
Harrison turned so abruptly that Patricia’s shoulders drew back.
“You had her followed.”
“I protected you.”
“You had a private investigator photograph my pregnant fiancée.”
“I had a concern.”
“You staged this.”
“I requested verification before family funds were transferred. Julia insisted the medical result be disclosed by a physician. I did not tell Dr. Roth what I expected.”
“You invited relatives.”
“They were already attending the celebration.”
“You arranged the celebration.”
Patricia glanced toward the clinic staff at the reception desk. “Lower your voice.”
Harrison almost laughed.
Richard approached them with his overcoat folded over one arm. “We are not having this conversation in the hallway.”
May you like
“Then where?” Harrison asked. “The family interrogation room is occupied.”
Patricia adjusted the pearl necklace at her throat. “You are humiliated. I understand.”
