Chương 7
“She says she did not call anyone.”
“Your mother says many things with technical accuracy.”
Martin handed Julia a glass of water.
She opened her laptop. “I spoke to Brittany’s attorney.”
Harrison looked up. “She has an attorney?”
“She has a friend who knows an attorney. That attorney is now representing her.”
“What does she want?”
“A written acknowledgment that you knew donor conception was used and consented to it.”
“I can provide that.”
“She also wants your family to cease making defamatory statements, destroy all private-investigator materials unrelated to a legitimate legal claim, and confirm that no one will interfere with her medical care.”
“My family does not control her medical care.”
Julia waited.
Harrison looked away. “I can confirm it.”
“She is also requesting that you cover independent counsel for matters arising from the trust investigation.”
“Investigation?”
“The trustee has a duty to determine whether there was an attempt to obtain funds through misrepresentation.”
“No money was transferred.”
“That limits the damage. It does not erase the conduct.”
Harrison pushed the soup away. “You keep saying conduct as though I ran a scheme.”
“You checked a false box.”
“It was one form.”
“You are a real-estate developer. Your entire profession depends on documents that become serious after someone signs them.”
“I intended to explain.”
“When?”
“After the pregnancy.”
“After the trust funded?”
He stood. “I did not need five million dollars.”
“That may make the deception less understandable, not less deceptive.”
Martin moved toward the doorway.
Harrison said, “Stay.”
Martin leaned against the frame with visible reluctance.
Julia turned the laptop so Harrison could see an email. “This is the statement communications drafted.”
It was four paragraphs of language that expressed concern, requested privacy, emphasized that facts were still being reviewed, and said nothing.
Harrison read it twice. “Release it.”
“No.”
“You brought it to show me.”
“I brought it to show you what cowardice looks like in twelve-point font.”
He looked at her.
Julia opened another document. “This is the beginning of a truthful statement. ‘Brittany Mercer did not deceive me about the circumstances of her pregnancy. We conceived through donor insemination with my full knowledge and written consent.’”
Harrison’s stomach tightened.
“You want me to announce my medical history.”
“I want you to prevent an innocent woman from being publicly identified as a fraud.”
“She met the donor without telling me.”
“That may be a relationship problem. It is not the story your mother is spreading.”
“She is not innocent of everything.”
“Neither are you.”
Harrison walked to the window. Across Marlborough Street, a woman in running clothes struggled to collapse a stroller while a toddler stood beside her licking the sleeve of his coat. A man came out of the building and helped without being asked. The entire problem was solved in under a minute.
“I built my life around not being reduced to this,” Harrison said.
Julia’s voice changed slightly. “To what?”
“The sick heir. The son who cannot continue the family. The man whose fiancée needed someone else’s sperm.”
“No one was reducing you until you chose the smallest possible version of yourself in that clinic.”
He turned.
Julia did not look away.
Martin spoke from the doorway. “There is another issue.”
Neither of them answered.
He continued. “The fertility clinic has acknowledged receiving Gabriel Martin’s updated medical history twenty-six months ago.”
Harrison stared at him. “How do you know?”
“I called the clinic’s general counsel. They would not release patient records, but they confirmed an internal review.”
Julia sat forward. “Did they confirm failure to notify recipients?”
“No. They said they are evaluating whether notifications were properly distributed.”
“Which means they were not,” Harrison said.
“It means they will not admit anything tonight,” Julia replied.
Harrison picked up the ultrasound. “Can the baby be tested?”
“Brittany is deciding that with her doctors,” Martin said.
“I should be part of that.”
“You should.”
“Then why is her attorney communicating instead of her?”
Martin’s expression remained neutral. “Because you let her become a legal problem before treating her like your partner.”
Harrison looked down at the ultrasound.
He had first seen the image three weeks earlier in a darkened examination room. The technician had pointed out the curve of the spine. Brittany had cried quietly. Harrison had felt something vast and frightening move through him, then had taken a photograph of the monitor and spent the rest of the appointment replying to a message about zoning approval.
He had told himself there would be time to feel it later.
His phone rang.
Richard.
Harrison answered.
“Come to the house,” his father said.
“Not tonight.”
“Your mother has retained separate counsel.”
“For what?”
“To protect herself from the consequences of whatever you are about to admit.”
“I have not admitted anything.”
“That is why I am calling.”
Richard’s voice sounded tired rather than angry. Harrison could picture him in the library, one hand in his pocket, standing beneath the portrait of his own father.
“Did you know I was infertile?” Harrison asked.
There was a pause.
“Yes.”
The answer made the kitchen tilt.
“How?”
“Your oncologist told us after treatment. You were twenty. You had authorized medical discussions while you were in the hospital.”
“You never said anything.”
“You never did either.”
“You let Mother build a trust around my biological child.”
“I assumed there had been a change in your condition.”
“You assumed?”
“I hoped.”
Harrison gripped the phone.
Richard lowered his voice. “Your mother did not know.”
“You did not tell her?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because she was already speaking about your illness as though it were a temporary defect in a building she owned. I thought silence would protect you.”
Harrison laughed once, without humor. “It has protected everyone beautifully.”
“Come to the house.”
“I need to find Brittany.”
“She will not speak to you tonight.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she spoke to me.”
Harrison straightened. “When?”
“Ten minutes ago.”
“What did you say to her?”
“I apologized.”
May you like
“For what?”
“For participating in a family that made her believe a medical fact was a moral failure.”
