Chương 5
A third had been told that two embryos listed in their portal could not immediately be located during an audit.
Nothing had yet established that any child had been conceived from the wrong embryo.
But the clinic was investigating.
“And you kept this from me,” Claire said.
Richard nodded.
“Why?”
“I told myself I was waiting until we had facts.”
“That’s what Evan said.”
“I know.”
“You were protecting me too?”
Richard looked at the table.
“No.”
The answer surprised her.
“Then what?”
“I was scared.”
Claire watched him.
Richard sat.
“I thought if I told you, you’d spend the rest of the pregnancy terrified about something that might be a clerical mistake.”
“That sounds like protecting me.”
“It wasn’t.”
“What was it?”
He rubbed his palms together.
“I didn’t want to be the person who made it real.”
Nobody spoke.
Richard looked at the burned ultrasound.
“I kept thinking we’d get an answer next week. Then the week after that.”
Claire understood that better than she wanted to.
She hated him for it anyway.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“I had appointments. Tests. I sat in rooms with doctors answering questions about my pregnancy while all of you were having another conversation about it without me.”
“Yes.”
“I drank coffee with you last Sunday.”
“I know.”
“You asked if the baby had hiccups.”
Richard’s face tightened.
“I know.”
Claire looked away.
That small memory hurt more than the large betrayal.
She had been standing in Richard and Margaret’s kitchen eating toast over the sink because sitting made her back ache. Richard had made decaf coffee badly and insisted the machine was broken. She had placed his hand against her belly when the baby began a rhythmic series of movements.
Hiccups, she had told him.
He had smiled.
And all that time he had known there was a question hanging over the child beneath his hand.
Claire picked up her handbag.
“I’m going.”
This time no one stopped her.
Evan followed her to the elevator.
“Claire.”
She pressed the button.
“Please don’t.”
“I need to know where you’re going.”
“No, you want to know.”
“You’re eight months pregnant.”
“I’ve been eight months pregnant all evening. Apparently that didn’t qualify me to know anything.”
He winced.
The elevator doors opened.
Claire stepped inside.
Evan followed.
She looked at him.
“Get out.”
“Claire.”
“Get out of the elevator.”
“I love you.”
The doors waited.
Claire stared at him.
“That’s not useful right now.”
He swallowed.
Then he stepped backward.
The doors closed between them.
Claire called her sister from the lobby.
She made it through seven words before her voice failed.
Anna did not ask for an explanation.
“Where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“I’m coming.”
“I can get a car.”
“No. Sit somewhere with people. Send me the location.”
Claire sat on a bench near the hotel entrance.
A doorman asked if she needed water.
She said no.
Then changed her mind.
While she waited, she opened the ultrasound photograph.
The burned corner crumbled slightly beneath her thumb.
Her daughter’s profile remained intact.
Claire put the picture back into her handbag.
Her phone vibrated.
Evan.
She declined the call.
Again.
Declined.
Then Richard.
She declined that one too.
Margaret did not call.
Anna arrived twenty-three minutes later wearing pajama pants beneath a raincoat and one earring.
Claire stared at the missing earring.
Anna touched her ear.
“Oh, damn it.”
Claire laughed.
She did not mean to.
The laugh became a sob halfway through.
Anna sat beside her and pulled Claire against her shoulder.
That was the first time Claire cried.
Quietly.
Angrily.
With her face pressed into wet nylon while hotel guests walked around them.
Anna did not ask what happened until they were in the car.
Then Claire told her.
Not well.
She repeated parts and skipped others. She forgot the champagne bucket entirely until they were halfway across town.
Anna glanced over.
“Richard dumped an ice bucket on Margaret?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.”
“That’s your response?”
“I’m trying to prioritize.”
Claire laughed again despite herself.
Then she cried harder.
At Anna’s apartment, she slept for two hours on a sofa that was too short for her and woke because the baby was moving.
For several seconds she did not remember why she was there.
Then she saw the cream handbag on the floor.
Everything returned.
At three seventeen in the morning, Claire opened the fertility clinic’s patient portal.
There was no message about an embryo discrepancy.
No corrected billing statement.
No notice of an investigation.
Nothing.
She stared at the screen until her eyes hurt.
Then she sent one message.
I need a complete copy of my medical and embryology records, including chain-of-custody documentation, storage records, audit history, billing corrections, and any incident reports connected to my account. I do not authorize release to anyone except me.
She read it twice.
Then added:
Please confirm receipt today.
She slept again.
At eight fourteen, the clinic called.
Claire let it ring.
At eight sixteen, it called again.
She answered.
The woman identified herself as the clinic’s patient-relations director.
“Ms. Bennett, we received your portal message.”
Claire sat upright.
Anna was asleep in an armchair with her mouth open.
“Yes.”
“We would like to schedule a conversation with our medical director.”
“No.”
A pause.
“No?”
“I want my records first.”
“We can absolutely facilitate that, but there are portions of laboratory documentation that require—”
“I want whatever I’m legally entitled to receive.”
“Of course.”
“And I want everything in writing.”
Another pause.
“Of course.”
Claire looked at Anna sleeping.
“Was there an incident involving my embryos?”
The woman did not answer immediately.
That was an answer.
“Ms. Bennett, I’m not able to discuss the details until—”
“Was there?”
“There was an internal review involving storage documentation associated with multiple patient files.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
The word was quiet.
Claire pressed her hand against her belly.
“Is my baby genetically ours?”
May you like
“We do not currently have evidence indicating otherwise.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
