Chapter 4: The Babies They Stole From Me
For almost a minute, I couldn't move.
The medical report sat on the screen between Noah and me.
My name.
My embryos.
Madison Blake.
And a doctor who had looked me in the eyes eleven years ago and told me there was nothing left to save.
I heard the air conditioner humming overhead. Somewhere outside the office, a printer started running. Olivia was speaking quietly on the phone.
Ordinary sounds.
An ordinary morning.
Except my entire life had just become something I didn't recognize.
“No,” I whispered.
Noah pulled a chair closer.
“Claire.””
“No. That's impossible.””
He didn't interrupt.
I stood and walked toward the glass wall. My reflection looked pale, almost translucent.
“Dr. Reed told me the third transfer failed. He said the remaining embryos hadn't survived the freezing process.””
Noah opened the report again.
“This document suggests at least two embryos remained viable.””
I turned around.
“Two?””
“Possibly more. The records are incomplete.””
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
I remembered that clinic.
The pale blue walls. The smell of antiseptic. The little artificial waterfall in the waiting room.
I remembered Grant holding my hand.
I remembered asking Dr. Reed whether we should try one final time.
And I remembered his answer.
Claire, sometimes the kindest thing we can do is accept that medicine has limits.
I had cried in the parking garage afterward.
Grant had hugged me.
He'd told me we would build a family another way.
Apparently, he'd already built one.
With my embryos.
With another woman.
“Call the doctor,” I said.
Noah studied me.
“Are you sure?””
“I want to hear him explain it.””
Noah handed me the phone.
I dialed the number on the report.
A receptionist answered.
“Reed Fertility Center. How may I help you?””
“My name is Claire Whitmore. I need to speak with Dr. Samuel Reed.””
“Of course. May I ask what this concerns?””
“Embryo transfer records from eleven years ago.””
There was a pause.
“Mrs. Whitmore, Dr. Reed is currently unavailable.””
“Then tell him I'm calling about the embryos he transferred without my consent.””
The receptionist went silent.
I heard a keyboard.
“Please hold.””
Three minutes passed.
Then a man's voice came through.
“Claire?””
Dr. Reed.
Older than I remembered, but unmistakable.
“Hello, Doctor.””
“It's been a long time.””
“Not long enough for you to forget what you did.””
He exhaled.
“I think there's been a misunderstanding.””
I looked at Noah.
He silently activated the recording function on his device.
“Then let's clear it up. Did you transfer my embryos to Madison Blake?””
Silence.
“Claire, these are extremely sensitive medical matters.””
“Did you?””
“I cannot discuss another patient's treatment.””
“Then discuss mine. Why did you tell me every embryo had been destroyed?””
Another silence.
When he finally spoke, his voice had changed.
“Your husband requested that certain records be handled privately.””
“My husband?””
“Grant was involved in the financial arrangements.””
I closed my eyes.
“What arrangements?””
“I was instructed that the embryos were part of a private family preservation agreement.””
“Did I sign that agreement?””
“Your signature appears on the original consent documents.””
“I never signed anything authorizing another woman to carry my embryos.””
He said nothing.
I lowered my voice.
“Doctor, did you forge my signature?””
“Claire, I strongly recommend that you discuss this through legal counsel.””
“That's not an answer.””
“I have nothing further to say.””
The line disconnected.
I stared at the phone.
Noah took it from my hand.
“He knows.””
“He knows exactly what he did.””
“Then we'll get the original records.””
I turned toward him.
“I want those children tested.””
“That's possible, but we need to be careful. They're still patients, and there are privacy laws.””
“I don't want to hurt them.””
My voice cracked.
“They're innocent.””
Noah nodded.
“Then we'll let the court handle the medical records.””
Olivia entered with a tablet.
“Mr. Parker, we have another problem.””
Noah looked up.
“What happened?””
“The New York clinic has received a request to destroy the archived records from Mrs. Whitmore's treatment.””
My blood ran cold.
“Who requested it?””
Olivia turned the tablet toward us.
The authorization had been submitted under the name of the clinic's former legal administrator.
But the digital approval came from a Whitmore Holdings account.
I recognized the signature.
Evelyn.
“She knows we've found the records,” I said.
Noah stood.
“Olivia, contact the clinic's compliance department. Tell them to preserve every document, including electronic backups. Then get our attorneys involved.””
Olivia nodded and left.
I looked at the screen.
“Why would Evelyn be involved in my fertility treatments?””
Noah opened the financial documents again.
“Because your father's company funded the preservation program.””
I frowned.
“What?””
“Eleven years ago, Whitmore Holdings established a medical research fund. It was supposed to support fertility research for employees and selected families.””
“Selected families?””
Noah clicked another file.
A list appeared.
Several names.
At the top was Claire Whitmore.
Below mine was Madison Blake.
I felt sick.
“Why was she on the list?””
“Her father had a financial relationship with the company.””
I looked closer.
There was a column marked Funding Source.
Every payment to Madison's medical account had been approved through a subsidiary of Whitmore Holdings.
“Grant knew about the embryos from the beginning.””
Noah nodded.
“Most likely.””
I sank into the chair.
For years, I'd believed my infertility had destroyed my marriage.
Now I was discovering that someone had taken the one chance I'd been given and handed it to another woman.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Grant.
*I know you're angry, but you need to understand something. The embryos were never legally yours alone.*
I stared at it.
Then another message arrived.
*We were married. I had rights too.*
I handed the phone to Noah.
He read both messages.
“Don't respond.””
But I was already typing.
*You told me they were destroyed. You watched me grieve. You let me believe I would never be a mother.*
Grant replied almost immediately.
*I was trying to protect you.*
I laughed.
The sound was sharp enough to make Noah look up.
Protect me.
The man who had stolen my embryos was now claiming he had done it for my benefit.
I typed one final message.
*You don't get to call theft protection.*
Then I blocked him.
An hour later, Noah's attorney joined us by video conference.
Her name was Catherine Hayes. She had silver hair, a calm voice, and the sort of expression that suggested she had spent thirty years listening to powerful men lie.
She examined the documents.
Then she looked directly at me.
“Claire, I need to ask you something. Did you ever sign a document transferring ownership or custody rights over the embryos?””
“No.””
“Did you authorize Dr. Reed to release them to another patient?””
“No.””
“Did you receive any payment or compensation?””
“No.””
Catherine nodded.
“Then we may have evidence of medical fraud, unauthorized use of genetic material, and potential financial misconduct.””
I leaned forward.
“What happens to the babies?””
“Nothing happens to them because of this investigation. They are children, not evidence to be punished. We will seek appropriate records through legal channels and protect their medical privacy.””
I felt some of the tension leave my shoulders.
“Good.””
Catherine continued.
“There is another concern. If Grant and Evelyn were aware of your father's trust, they may have accelerated the divorce because they expected you to leave without understanding your rights.””
Noah placed the settlement agreement on the table.
“That's exactly what happened.””
Catherine read the relevant clauses.
Her expression tightened.
“This agreement is unusual.””
“Why?”” I asked.
“The confidentiality language is excessively broad. More importantly, there's a provision requiring Claire to waive any claims relating to reproductive materials, medical expenses, and future family-related disputes.””
I stared at her.
“They made me sign away my right to talk about my own embryos?””
“They attempted to.””
“Can they enforce it?””
“Not necessarily. A contract cannot automatically legitimize illegal conduct.””
She turned another page.
Then she stopped.
“Interesting.””
“What?””
“There's an additional attachment.””
She enlarged it on the screen.
It was a document titled Mutual Release of Reproductive Claims.
At the bottom was a signature.
Claire Whitmore.
Except the signature looked different from mine.
I knew immediately.
It was a forgery.
Catherine leaned closer.
“Claire, have you seen this before?””
“No.””
“Then we have something important.””
She took a screenshot.
“I'm going to request the original document and the electronic audit trail.””
The meeting ended forty minutes later.
I sat quietly while Noah collected the papers.
Outside, the sun had begun to set over the Pacific.
For the first time since arriving in California, I felt exhausted rather than frightened.
Then Noah's phone rang.
He answered.
“Parker.””
A woman's voice spoke rapidly.
His expression changed.
“When?””
He listened.
“Are you certain?””
Another pause.
“Send it to me immediately.””
He ended the call.
I stood.
“What happened?””
Noah looked at me.
“Madison Blake has been admitted to the hospital.””
I gripped the edge of the table.
“And the babies?””
“Both are alive. But there's something else.””
“What?””
“The hospital has received a request for emergency access to the genetic history of the embryos.””
“From whom?””
Noah looked down at his phone.
“Your husband.””
Before I could respond, a second message appeared.
This one came from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph of a hospital bracelet.
Madison Blake.
May you like
And beneath it, a handwritten note:
*Claire, if you want to know who the twins' biological father really is, come to New York.*
