Chapter 12 - The Daughter They Bought
Chloe did not deny the signature.
That surprised everyone.
She sat in the interrogation room and stared at the contract for nearly a minute.
Then she said, “I signed it.”
No tears.
No excuses.
Not immediately.
I stood behind the observation glass with Dana.
Renee sat across from Chloe.
“Did you know the embryo belonged to Elena Mercer?”
“Yes.”
The word sliced cleanly.
“Did you know Elena had not consented?”
Chloe closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
I stopped breathing.
Dana whispered something I did not hear.
Renee continued.
“Why did you authorize the transfer?”
Chloe looked toward the mirror.
She knew I was probably behind it.
“Because Marcus told me Elena would destroy us if she ever regained control of the embryos.”
I laughed bitterly.
Renee did not.
“What does that mean?”
“He said Elena would use them to trap him.”
“How?”
“By getting pregnant.”
I stared through the glass.
Even now, Marcus had managed to turn my desire for my own children into a threat against him.
“What did you believe?”
Renee asked.
“That Elena hated me.”
“That she would take Noah.”
“That she would expose the affair.”
“Those things may have been true.”
Chloe swallowed.
“Yes.”
“And that justified selling her embryo?”
“No.”
“Then why?”
Chloe’s composure finally cracked.
“Because I wanted it gone.”
I felt sick.
Renee leaned forward.
“The embryo?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Every time I thought about it, I thought about what we had done.”
“What you had done.”
“Yes.”
Chloe’s voice broke.
“Marcus wanted to keep it.”
“He said we could have another baby later.”
“I couldn’t.”
“So instead of returning it to Elena, you sold it.”
“Yes.”
“Why not tell her?”
“Because then she would know about Noah.”
There it was.
Claire had been sold to protect Chloe’s secret.
My daughter had spent four years with strangers because Chloe feared losing the child she had already taken.
Renee placed the contract down.
“Did you choose the Wards?”
“No.”
“Who did?”
“Keller.”
“Did you speak with them?”
“Once.”
“What did they ask?”
“If the genetic mother was intelligent.”
My stomach rolled.
“What did you say?”
“That she graduated from Georgetown.”
“Did they ask whether she consented?”
“Yes.”
“What did you say?”
“That consent was complicated.”
“And they continued?”
“Yes.”
“What did they pay?”
“I didn’t handle money.”
Renee pushed the ledger toward her.
“Your commission was seventy-five thousand dollars.”
Chloe went still.
“What?”
“Deposited into an account in your name.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Stop.”
Renee’s voice cracked like a whip.
“I am done listening to adults claim they did not know where luxury cars and diamonds came from.”
Chloe lowered her head.
“I knew there was money.”
“How much?”
“Marcus said fifty thousand.”
“And you accepted it.”
“Yes.”
“For selling Elena’s embryo.”
Chloe cried.
“Yes.”
Behind the glass, I felt strangely calm.
Something had changed.
Maybe there was a limit to how much betrayal one nervous system could absorb.
Once crossed, outrage became clarity.
I walked out.
Dana followed.
“Where are you going?”
“Seattle.”
“Elena.”
“I’m meeting my daughter.”
“The Wards are fighting contact.”
“Then fight harder.”
“They filed for an emergency confidentiality order.”
“On what basis?”
“Parental privacy.”
I stopped.
“They purchased stolen reproductive material.”
“Yes.”
“And they want privacy.”
“Yes.”
I laughed.
“Good luck.”
Federal charges against Marcus expanded that afternoon.
Wire fraud.
Conspiracy.
Medical record tampering.
Theft involving reproductive tissue.
Charity fraud.
Obstruction.
Prosecutors were still evaluating additional counts.
Marcus remained in custody pending a detention hearing.
Grant Holloway withdrew as his counsel.
That made headlines.
So did Chloe’s cooperation agreement.
The story exploded nationally.
My photograph appeared everywhere.
I hated it.
REPORTS ALLEGE FERTILITY FRAUD NETWORK.
PHILANTHROPIST ACCUSED OF STEALING EX-WIFE’S EMBRYOS.
CHILDREN AT CENTER OF UNPRECEDENTED LEGAL BATTLE.
Reporters camped outside my apartment.
The bookstore owner began letting me use his back entrance.
When I apologized, he shrugged.
“You buy more books than anyone I know.”
Then he handed me a mystery novel.
“For when reality gets boring.”
I laughed for the first time in weeks.
Seattle did not feel real.
Neither did the house where Claire Ward lived.
Federal agents did not storm it.
No dramatic removal occurred.
The law moved carefully because a four-year-old child was involved.
The Wards agreed to genetic testing only after a judge ordered it.
The result was conclusive.
Claire was mine.
Marcus was her biological father.
The court scheduled a private meeting without Claire present.
Jonathan Ward arrived angry.
Elise arrived terrified.
Jonathan spoke first.
“We were told everything was legal.”
Dana placed the contract on the table.
“You acknowledged source consent might be absent.”
“That was legal language.”
“No.”
I looked directly at him.
“That was a warning.”
He stared at me.
“You think you can walk into our lives and take her.”
“I haven’t said that.”
“You’re her genetic source.”
“Mother.”
His jaw tightened.
“Elise is her mother.”
I looked at Elise.
She was crying.
I remembered Evelyn.
The difference was immediate.
Evelyn had been deceived.
Elise had chosen not to ask.
“Did you know?”
I asked.
She whispered, “Not at first.”
“When did you know?”
“Before the transfer.”
The answer hurt.
“What were you told?”
“That the donor had not formally completed paperwork.”
“And?”
“That there was no realistic chance she would ever discover it.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did you ask why?”
“Yes.”
“What did Keller say?”
“That she was mentally unstable.”
Of course.
“He said she had abandoned the embryos.”
I looked at Jonathan.
“You knew my name.”
He hesitated.
That told me enough.
“When?”
“After Claire was born.”
“How?”
“Keller provided medical history.”
“With identifying information?”
“Yes.”
“Did you look me up?”
Elise started crying harder.
Jonathan said nothing.
“You saw I was alive.”
“Yes.”
“You saw I had not disappeared.”
“Yes.”
“You saw stories about my divorce.”
“Yes.”
“And you still said nothing.”
“She was ours by then.”
Jonathan’s voice rose.
“We had bonded with her.”
I stared at him.
“You knew a woman somewhere believed she had never produced a viable embryo.”
“You knew I was mourning children I thought never existed.”
“And you decided your attachment mattered more than my right to know my daughter was alive.”
His face hardened.
“I would make the same decision again.”
Elise whispered, “Jonathan.”
“No.”
He turned toward her.
“We are not going to apologize for loving our daughter.”
“I’m not asking you to apologize for loving her.”
I said.
“I’m asking whether you regret buying silence.”
He said nothing.
That answer would matter later.
The judge did not remove Claire from their home.
I did not ask her to.
Not immediately.
Instead the court appointed an independent child advocate.
My first introduction to Claire happened by video.
She had curly dark-blonde hair.
Green eyes.
A gap between her front teeth.
She held a stuffed rabbit.
I was introduced as “Miss Elena.”
I smiled through an ache that felt impossible.
“Hi, Claire.”
“Hi.”
She looked at me.
“Why are you crying?”
Elise flinched off-camera.
I wiped my face.
“Because I’m very happy to meet you.”
Claire considered that.
“People cry when they’re sad.”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you sad?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Every adult in the room froze.
I chose the only answer that did not burden her.
“Because I wish I had met you sooner.”
She thought about that too.
Then she held the rabbit toward the camera.
“This is Blueberry.”
I smiled.
“That is a very good name.”
“He’s not blue.”
“I noticed.”
“That’s the joke.”
I laughed.
She laughed too.
The sound destroyed me.
After the call ended, I sat in the empty conference room and cried for twenty minutes.
Then my phone rang.
Marcus.
Jail call.
Dana shook her head.
“You do not have to answer.”
I did.
A recorded message announced the call.
Then Marcus spoke.
“Elena.”
His voice sounded different.
No expensive room behind him.
No assistants.
No control.
“What do you want?”
“You went to Seattle.”
“Yes.”
“You met them.”
“Yes.”
“Claire?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Is she okay?”
The question surprised me.
“She’s healthy.”
Marcus exhaled.
“I never met her.”
I closed my eyes.
“Good.”
“Elena.”
“What?”
“They’re going to blame me for everything.”
“You are responsible for everything.”
“No.”
I laughed.
“There are documents, Marcus.”
“Keller ran the sales.”
“You started it.”
“Adrian structured it.”
“You financed it.”
“Chloe signed transfers.”
“You stole the embryos.”
Silence.
Then he said, “You still don’t understand why.”
“I don’t care.”
“You should.”
“I wanted children.”
“You wanted heirs.”
“I wanted our children.”
“Then you could have stayed married to me.”
“No.”
His voice hardened.
“You would have taken half of everything.”
There it was.
Money.
Not love.
Not grief.
Money.
“You destroyed me to protect your assets.”
“I protected what I built.”
“What we built.”
“You never understood business.”
“And you never understood family.”
He laughed softly.
“You think these children make you a mother now?”
My chest tightened.
“You think DNA gives you years you didn’t live?”
That hit exactly where he intended.
I said nothing.
“You’ll always be a stranger to them.”
I almost hung up.
Then Marcus continued.
“And there is one child you will never find.”
My blood ran cold.
“What?”
He laughed.
“You reconstructed six embryos.”
“Yes.”
“You found all six outcomes.”
“No.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Which child?”
“You’re counting wrong.”
The line went silent for a moment.
Then Marcus whispered, “You had seven.”
My fingers went numb.
“No.”
“Keller hid one from everyone.”
“Even me.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“Which cycle?”
“Second.”
My heart pounded.
“Second produced one abnormal embryo.”
“That’s what Keller told all of us.”
I looked at Dana.
Her face had gone pale.
“What happened to the seventh?”
Marcus’s voice became quiet.
“Keller stole it for himself.”
The call ended.
May you like
And once again, just as I thought I had reached the edge of what had been taken from me, Marcus opened another door.
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