Chương 5
“I know.”
“No, I need you to hear me. You cannot come to my house. You cannot send people to follow us. You cannot have somebody photograph him at the playground.”
Victoria thought of the investigator’s envelope.
“I already did that.”
Lauren went silent.
“I’m sorry.”
“You had us followed?”
“I thought Daniel was having an affair.”
“You could’ve asked him.”
Victoria looked at the building where she and Daniel had lived for eleven years.
“I did.”
Lauren let out a breath that was almost a laugh.
“Right.”
“I won’t send anyone again.”
“Your lawyer called mine.”
“Yes.”
“They want a DNA test.”
“Yes.”
Lauren said nothing for several seconds.
Then: “What if it says you’re his mother?”
The question was not aggressive.
That made it harder.
“I don’t know.”
“You keep saying you want the truth.”
“I do.”
“What happens to me when you get it?”
Victoria had no answer.
A small voice came through the phone.
“Juice.”
Lauren said, “You have water.”
“Juice.”
“You already had juice.”
Silence.
Then Noah, with devastating logic, said, “More juice.”
Lauren laughed despite herself.
Victoria heard a cabinet open.
The ordinary domestic sound hurt more than the accusation.
“Lauren.”
“What?”
“I’m not going to show up and take him.”
Lauren’s voice tightened. “That’s not the same as saying you won’t try.”
“No.”
At least the answer was honest.
Lauren hung up.
Three days later, she agreed to the test.
They met at a pediatric genetics clinic because Lauren refused to let anyone connected to Northstar handle another sample.
Noah hated the swab.
He turned his face into Lauren’s shoulder and said no with increasing outrage while the nurse tried to make it a game.
Victoria stood near the wall.
She had imagined, against her will, that the first time she occupied a room with her son outside the airport would feel significant.
Instead, Noah was wearing one sock because he had removed the other in the elevator, Lauren had applesauce on her sleeve, George was arguing with a parking app, and Victoria’s coffee had leaked through the lid.
It was painfully normal.
After Noah’s sample, the nurse approached Victoria.
“Your turn.”
Victoria sat.
The swab scraped the inside of her cheek.
Daniel had provided his sample separately that morning.
Lauren watched.
When it was over, Noah peered at Victoria from behind his mother’s arm.
Victoria smiled.
He did not smile back.
He pointed at her shoe.
“Dirty.”
Victoria looked down.
A streak of dried mud crossed one nude heel.
“You’re right.”
Lauren made a small sound.
For a second Victoria thought she was crying.
Then she realized Lauren was trying not to laugh.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What?”
“You look offended.”
“My shoe is dirty.”
“He’s two. He reports conditions.”
Victoria looked at Noah.
“Thank you for the update.”
He stared at her solemnly.
George laughed.
The tension in the room loosened by one degree.
Four days later, the results confirmed that Victoria Hale and Daniel Mercer were Noah’s genetic parents.
Victoria received the call while standing in a grocery store.
She had gone there herself because the hotel fruit tray annoyed her and because Priya had told her she needed to do one ordinary thing.
The genetic counselor spoke gently.
Victoria listened beside shelves of pasta sauce.
Ninety-nine point something percent.
Consistent with biological parentage.
Words meant to be precise.
Words incapable of containing what they meant.
A man reached past her for marinara and apologized.
Victoria moved her cart.
“Thank you,” she told the counselor.
Then she stood in front of canned tomatoes for a long time.
She did not cry.
She bought oranges, coffee, detergent, and a box of animal crackers she had no reason to buy.
At the hotel she placed the crackers on the table and stared at them until Priya arrived.
“They’re terrible,” Priya said.
Victoria looked at her.
“The crackers.”
“You eat them?”
“My nephew does. They taste like sweet drywall.”
Victoria laughed.
Then she began crying so abruptly she had to sit down.
Priya took the chair across from her and said nothing.
The next week brought subpoenas, preservation notices, lawyers from Northstar’s insurer, and a statement from the clinic claiming that it was “reviewing historical laboratory processes related to a former record-management system.”
No apology.
No admission.
Mara read the statement aloud and said, “That is expensive language for panic.”
Victoria wanted to destroy them.
She wanted investigators, regulators, press conferences, litigation, every document subpoenaed and every executive frightened.
Mara advised restraint.
So did Bennett.
Daniel did not.
He asked to meet.
Victoria chose a coffee shop in a hotel lobby rather than somewhere private.
He arrived early.
The mark from her slap was gone.
She hated noticing.
Daniel had lost weight. His suit fit differently at the neck.
He stood when she approached.
She sat without greeting him.
“I know who Patient 6442 is,” he said.
Victoria stopped removing her gloves.
For a moment the hotel noise receded.
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Again.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Daniel looked at the table.
“I don’t have the name.”
“You just said—”
“I know where the file went.”
Victoria waited.
He took a folded paper from his pocket but did not hand it over.
“When Northstar’s counsel contacted me eighteen months ago, they mentioned a second transfer because they wanted me to sign a broad confidentiality agreement. I refused at first.”
“Then?”
“They told me the second patient had left the practice after a positive pregnancy and transferred to an obstetric group in Connecticut.”
“Which group?”
“Greenwich Women’s Collaborative.”
Victoria reached for the paper.
Daniel held it.
“Before I give you this, you need to understand—”
“Do not negotiate with me using my child.”
“I’m not.”
“You are physically holding information away from me.”
He placed the paper on the table.
She picked it up.
It was a copy of an email from a Northstar attorney.
Most patient information was redacted.
One line referenced GWC transfer of care.
“Why didn’t you tell Bennett?”
May you like
“I didn’t trust him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
