Chapter 5: The Price of a Whitmore Heir
Clara didn't intend to meet Raymond alone.
But she also didn't intend to let him control the information.
At nine the following morning, she sat across from Diane Foster in the Bennett Global conference room.
Arthur stood near the window.
“His message says he wants to discuss your father's death,” Diane said.
“I know.””
“That's a significant accusation.””
“It's not an accusation. It's a question I've been asking since I was seventeen.””
Diane closed her notebook.
“Then we'll make sure the meeting is recorded and that you have legal protection. You won't be alone.””
Clara looked at Arthur.
“Can you come?””
“Of course.””
Raymond chose a private restaurant in Manhattan.
It was the same restaurant where he had proposed eleven years earlier.
Clara remembered the white roses, the champagne, and the little velvet box he had placed beside her dessert.
She had thought she was marrying the man who would protect her for the rest of her life.
Now she was walking into the same restaurant to discover what he had done to her family.
Raymond stood when she entered.
“Clara.””
She didn't return his greeting.
Arthur and Diane followed her to the table.
Raymond frowned.
“I asked to speak with my wife.””
“Ex-wife, if your attorneys have anything to say about it,” Diane replied.
Raymond sat down.
“Fine.””
Clara took the chair opposite him.
“Talk.””
He looked at her for a long moment.
“You look different.””
“I have three children growing inside me. I imagine that changes a person.””
Raymond's expression flickered.
“Are they healthy?””
“That's none of your business.””
“They're my children too.””
“You gave up that privilege when you threw me out.””
He looked down at the table.
“I didn't have a choice.””
Clara leaned forward.
“You always had a choice. You chose Vanessa.””
“Vanessa was part of an arrangement.””
“An arrangement involving my eggs?””
Raymond rubbed his face.
“Mother was desperate to secure the Whitmore succession.””
Clara stared at him.
“By stealing my embryos?””
“By protecting the family.””
“Stop using that word. You didn't protect anyone. You manipulated me.””
Raymond looked toward Arthur.
“I don't want to discuss this in front of strangers.””
Arthur's voice remained calm.
“Then you should have chosen a private meeting with fewer witnesses.””
Raymond ignored him.
“Clara, the truth is that my family has a genetic condition. A hereditary heart disorder. My grandfather died from it.
My father died from it. Several men in the Whitmore family have carried it.””
Clara's expression changed.
She remembered Raymond's father dying suddenly at fifty-two.
She remembered the family describing it as a heart attack.
“What does that have to do with the embryos?””
Raymond took a folded medical report from his jacket.
“Your fertility specialist discovered something during genetic screening.””
Clara opened the report.
It contained a laboratory summary and several handwritten notes.
Her eyes moved across the page.
Then she stopped.
“Is this real?””
Raymond nodded.
“The embryos tested negative for the hereditary mutation.””
Clara stared at him.
“You knew?””
“I knew there was a possibility.””
“And instead of telling me, you arranged to have my embryos transferred into Vanessa?””
“Mother believed the Whitmore family needed a healthy heir.””
Clara slowly put the report down.
“Healthy heir.””
Raymond looked away.
“It's more complicated than that.””
“No. It's actually very simple. You and your mother decided my body was useful, but I wasn't.””
He didn't answer.
Clara's voice trembled.
“You watched me inject myself every night. You watched me lose five pregnancies—or what I believed were failed attempts. You sat beside me while I cried in hospital bathrooms. And all that time, you knew my eggs were being treated like family property.””
Raymond reached across the table.
“Clara, I loved you.””
She pulled her hand away.
“Don't.””
“Please.””
“You didn't love me enough to tell me the truth.””
Raymond's face tightened.
“Mother said you would never understand.””
“Your mother doesn't get to decide what I understand.””
Clara stood.
But before she could leave, Raymond spoke again.
“Your father wasn't supposed to die.””
She froze.
Arthur immediately leaned forward.
“What did you just say?””
Raymond looked at the window.
“William Whitmore and your father had a disagreement. It was about a company they were building together.””
“Which company?”” Clara asked.
“Whitmore Medical Technologies.””
Clara had heard the name.
It was one of the family's most profitable subsidiaries, specializing in diagnostic equipment and reproductive medicine.
Raymond continued.
“Your father discovered that the company was concealing problems with one of its medical products. He wanted to report it.””
“What problems?””
“An experimental cardiac monitoring device had failed during testing. The company buried the reports.””
Clara's mouth went dry.
“My father was a cardiac surgeon.””
“Yes.””
“And he discovered the device was dangerous?””
Raymond nodded.
“He threatened to expose the company. Two days later, he died.””
Clara stared at him.
“Are you saying the Whitmores killed my father?””
Raymond shook his head quickly.
“I don't know that.””
“Then why are you telling me this?””
“Because I found documents proving that Margaret authorized payments to a private investigator who was following your father before his death.””
Arthur's expression darkened.
“Where are those documents?””
Raymond hesitated.
“At the mansion.””
Clara gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“You want me to come back?””
“I want you to understand what you're dealing with.””
“I'm dealing with a family that stole my inheritance, manipulated my medical treatment, and threw me out while I was pregnant.””
Raymond leaned closer.
“Then you should understand why I need you to stop investigating.””
Clara looked directly at him.
“Why?””
“Because Margaret has people who will do anything to protect the family.””
Arthur stood.
“That's enough.””
Raymond looked at Clara.
“There's one more thing.””
She waited.
“The triplets aren't the only children involved.””
Clara felt the blood drain from her face.
“What?””
Raymond glanced toward the restaurant entrance.
“Vanessa isn't carrying three embryos.””
Clara frowned.
“The doctor said she received my embryos.””
“She did. But there were additional transfers.””
“How many?””
Raymond swallowed.
“Four.””
Clara stared at him.
“Four?””
“One was transferred into Vanessa. The other three were transferred into a surrogate.””
Diane immediately opened her notebook.
“Who is the surrogate?””
Raymond shook his head.
“Mother arranged everything through a private agency.””
Clara felt sick.
“How many of those children are genetically mine?””
“Four.””
She gripped the edge of the table.
Four children created from her eggs.
Three growing inside Vanessa.
And one being carried by a woman she had never met.
“Why?””
Raymond's voice dropped.
“Because Mother wanted a guarantee that at least one Whitmore heir would survive.””
Clara looked at him with disbelief.
“You turned my children into an insurance policy.””
He lowered his eyes.
“I didn't know how far she'd go.””
“You knew enough to participate.””
She turned toward the door.
Raymond called after her.
“Clara, there's something else you need to know. Vanessa doesn't know about the fourth embryo.””
Clara stopped.
“Why not?””
“Because Mother told her the transfer failed.””
Clara looked back.
“Then where is the fourth baby?””
Raymond's expression changed.
“I don't know.””
That evening, Clara returned to Arthur's residence with a headache and a heart full of questions.
Diane had already contacted two medical attorneys.
Arthur was speaking to a private investigator.
Clara sat in the sitting room, staring at the fireplace.
Four children.
She had spent years begging the universe for one.
Now she was discovering that someone had secretly taken four potential children from her without consent.
Her phone rang.
An unfamiliar number.
She answered cautiously.
“Hello?””
A woman's voice whispered.
“Is this Clara Whitmore?””
“Yes.””
“My name is Emily Parker. I worked at the fertility clinic.””
Clara sat upright.
“What do you want?””
“I need to tell you something before they find out I've contacted you.””
“Who?””
“Mrs. Margaret Whitmore.””
Clara's stomach tightened.
“What do you know?””
Emily took a shaky breath.
“I handled the embryo storage records. I was told that you had signed authorization for the transfers.””
“I didn't.””
“I know that now.””
“Why are you calling me?””
“Because I kept a copy of the original storage inventory.””
Clara stood.
“What does it show?””
There was a long silence.
Then Emily said something that made Clara's knees weaken.
“Four embryos were removed from your storage account. But there were actually five.””
Clara gripped the phone.
“Five?””
“One was never transferred. It was kept in a separate storage facility.””
“Where?””
“I don't know. The transport documents were signed by Margaret Whitmore herself.””
Clara felt a chill run down her spine.
“Why would she keep one?””
“Because she wanted to make sure there was always another embryo available.””
“Available for what?””
Emily's voice cracked.
“Clara, I think your mother-in-law was planning to have another child created from your eggs, even after your divorce.””
Before Clara could respond, she heard a door slam on Emily's end.
A man's voice shouted.
“Who are you talking to?””
Emily gasped.
Then the call ended.
Clara immediately called the number back.
It was disconnected.
Arthur rushed into the room.
“What happened?””
Clara explained everything.
He listened without interrupting.
When she finished, he picked up his phone.
“I'm sending someone to find Emily.””
Clara looked at the fireplace.
Five embryos.
Four already accounted for.
One missing.
Then her phone vibrated again.
A photograph appeared.
It showed a woman sitting in a hospital bed, holding a newborn baby.
The woman was Margaret Whitmore.
The photograph was recent.
And beneath it was a message:
You have three. Vanessa has three. But the Whitmore family has already welcomed its first child.
Clara's blood ran cold.
She enlarged the photograph.
The newborn wore a hospital bracelet.
On the bracelet was a name.
May you like
*Baby Whitmore.*
And the date of birth was six weeks earlier.
