Chương 9
No single payment said BABY.
Real crimes, Pike said, were rude that way.
They rarely labeled themselves.
Three weeks after the birth, Mara met Leah Maddox.
She did not want to.
Pike recommended against it.
Adrian said nothing until Mara asked what he thought.
“I think it can only hurt you.”
“Legally?”
“Emotionally.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“It’s what I meant.”
Mara looked at him.
“I’m going.”
He sighed.
“Then I’m coming.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
Mara almost laughed.
“You see? That. That face.”
“What face?”
“The face that says my decision is the opening round of negotiations.”
“I’m concerned about you.”
“I know.”
“Then why is that irritating?”
“Because you make concern feel like a perimeter.”
He stared at her.
She had not planned the sentence.
It simply came out.
Adrian sat down.
“Okay.”
She waited.
“Okay what?”
“Go.”
“Without you?”
“I hate it.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“Yes. Without me.”
The meeting took place in Pike’s office.
Leah Maddox arrived with her own lawyer.
She was forty-one, maybe forty-two, with curly blond hair she kept pushing behind one ear.
Mara had pictured someone polished.
Leah wore a sweater with a coffee stain near the hem.
For several seconds they stared at each other.
Leah spoke first.
“I’m sorry.”
Mara hated her instantly for saying it.
“For what?”
Leah’s face folded slightly.
“I don’t know.”
“Then don’t say it.”
The lawyers shifted.
Leah nodded.
“Okay.”
Mara looked at her hands.
No wedding ring.
A pale line where one had been.
“Where’s your husband?”
“We’re separated.”
“When?”
“Last week.”
Mara had not expected that.
Leah looked at the table.
“He thinks we should sue.”
Mara’s body went cold.
“For my children?”
“No.”
Leah looked up quickly.
“No. God, no. The agency. The hospital. Everybody.”
“Then why are you separated?”
“Because for about twelve hours he thought we should ask whether the agreement meant anything.”
Mara stared at her.
Leah’s eyes filled, but she did not cry.
“I told him if he said the words ‘our legal rights’ one more time, I’d break his nose.”
Mara almost smiled.
Almost.
Leah twisted a tissue between her fingers.
“We built a nursery.”
Mara said nothing.
“We had names.”
Still nothing.
“I’m not telling you that because I think it matters more than what happened to you.”
“Good.”
“I’m telling you because Dr. Voss came to our house.”
That changed everything.
“When?”
“Six months ago.”
Mara leaned forward.
Leah’s lawyer began to speak.
Leah stopped him.
“No. She needs to know.”
She reached into her bag and removed a photograph.
It showed Voss sitting at a dining table.
Beside her was a blue folder.
The same color as the one in the elevator.
Mara’s throat tightened.
“What did she tell you?”
“That Harbor had matched us with a carrier who had been medically cleared. That the carrier had two children already and didn’t want contact.”
Mara had no children before Lucy and Evan.
“She said the carrier was thirty-four.”
Mara was twenty-nine.
“She said the pregnancy had resulted from donor embryos.”
Mara said, “None of that is true.”
“I know.”
“What was in the blue folder?”
“Contracts. Medical summaries. Ultrasound reports.”
“Whose?”
Leah looked sick.
“Yours.”
The room went silent.
“Not your name,” Leah said quickly. “The name was different. But I’ve seen the dates now. The measurements. The hospital. They were yours.”
Mara sat back.
For months Voss had been carrying pieces of her life into strangers’ homes.
Ultrasounds Mara had watched with Adrian.
Measurements they had celebrated.
The little profile image where Lucy appeared to have Adrian’s nose and Mara had mocked him for three days.
Sold.
Not the babies yet.
The expectation of them.
“Did you keep the folder?”
Leah looked at her lawyer.
He nodded.
“We gave everything to police.”
“Why meet me?”
Leah swallowed.
“Because there was one thing I didn’t give them at first.”
Both attorneys became still.
Mara’s lawyer said, “Leah.”
“I gave it yesterday.”
“What?”
Leah reached into her bag again but did not remove anything.
“A handwritten note.”
“From Voss?”
“I think so.”
“What did it say?”
Leah’s voice became quieter.
“‘In the event of maternal complication, transfer authority remains unaffected.’”
Mara waited.
“That’s it?”
“No.”
Leah closed her eyes.
“Underneath, it said, ‘Cole risk elevated due spouse.’”
Mara felt the room tilt.
“Spouse.”
“Yes.”
“Adrian.”
“I assume.”
The note did not solve the case.
It created more questions.
When had Voss written it?
Why was Adrian a risk?
Because he was military?
Because he was likely to push?
Because he had money?
Because he had resources?
Or because Voss knew he would be away during the delivery?
Mara returned to the rental apartment angry enough to shake.
Adrian was warming a bottle.
“How was it?”
“She had my ultrasounds.”
He stopped.
“What?”
Mara told him.
Every detail.
When she reached the note, he set the bottle down.
“Cole risk elevated due spouse.”
“Yes.”
His face emptied.
“What?”
Mara asked.
He walked to the counter.
“Adrian.”
“Voss called me twice before you went into labor.”
Mara stared.
“When?”
“The week before.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“They were normal calls.”
“Apparently not.”
“She asked about whether I would be reachable during the foundation event.”
Mara’s hands went cold.
“What did you say?”
“The truth.”
“Which was?”
“That I’d be onstage for part of it. My phone would be with my aide.”
Mara sat.
There was no good place to put the feeling that followed.
It was not betrayal.
Not really.
But something adjacent to it.
“You told her exactly when you wouldn’t answer me.”
“I didn’t know.”
“I know.”
“She was your doctor.”
“I know.”
“I thought—”
“I know.”
He turned.
“I need you to stop saying that like it means I’m not allowed to feel anything.”
Mara stood too fast.
Pain pulled low through her abdomen.
She caught the table.
Adrian stepped forward.
She held up one hand.
He stopped.
Good.
May you like
At least he had learned that.
“I know you didn’t do this,” she said. “I know you didn’t help her. I know none of this is your fault in the way it’s hers. But I was there asking for you, and she knew you weren’t coming because you told her.”
