Chapter 3 - The Second Embryo
The court order arrived at 9:14 the following morning.
By 9:20, Marcus had already filed an objection.
By 9:37, my attorney called me and laughed without humor.
“He’s terrified.”
Her name was Dana Walsh.
She had represented women escaping financial abuse for almost fifteen years before agreeing to take my case.
She had also been one of the few people who never accepted Marcus’s version of our divorce.
“What did the judge order?”
I asked.
“Preservation of all relevant reproductive records.”
“Good.”
“Temporary prohibition against destruction, transfer, amendment, or deletion of any files connected to your IVF treatment.”
“Better.”
“And genetic testing of the child.”
I sat down hard on the edge of my bed.
The studio apartment suddenly seemed even smaller.
“When?”
“Tomorrow.”
I looked toward the window.
Across the street, the bookstore owner was pulling a chalkboard onto the sidewalk.
Normal people were beginning normal days.
Somewhere in the city, Chloe was holding a baby who might be mine.
“Marcus will fight it.”
“He already did.”
“And?”
“The judge denied the emergency stay.”
I closed my eyes.
Dana became quieter.
“Elena.”
“Yes?”
“Whatever this test says, you need to prepare yourself.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Her tone hardened.
“You know intellectually.”
“That isn’t the same thing.”
I said nothing.
“If that little boy is genetically yours, the legal situation becomes extraordinary.”
“I know.”
“If he isn’t, you will still have discovered that Marcus and possibly others falsified medical information.”
“I know.”
“And we still have the missing embryo.”
That frightened me most.
The embryo transferred to Westbridge might have become Chloe’s son.
The other had vanished into a second facility.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
“What did you find about the second transfer?”
“Dr. Thorne is working on it.”
“My team is subpoenaing Westbridge.”
“And Keller?”
Silence.
“What?”
“Philip Keller did not show up for work this morning.”
My eyes opened.
“Where is he?”
“No one knows.”
I stood.
“Marcus called him yesterday.”
“We know.”
“How?”
“The hospital’s hallway cameras recorded Marcus making the call.”
“Can we hear it?”
“No.”
“But the timing is useful.”
Dana paused.
“Do not contact Marcus.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“Do not contact Chloe.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Do not investigate Keller yourself.”
I almost smiled.
“You know me too well.”
“I know people who have been lied to for six years.”
“They suddenly become very motivated researchers.”
After the call ended, I opened the cardboard box containing my old medical records.
I had moved it with me from the estate.
Marcus had told me to throw everything away.
I hadn’t.
Pain had made me obsessive.
Now obsession was becoming evidence.
I spread every laboratory result across the floor.
Dates.
Medication schedules.
Embryology reports.
Billing statements.
Consent forms.
Then I found something I had overlooked dozens of times.
A credit card receipt.
The charge had been made during our final IVF cycle.
Crestview Reproductive Services.
$18,400.
Marcus had told me insurance covered almost everything.
Why had he paid separately?
I photographed the receipt and sent it to Dana.
Three minutes later, she called.
“Where did you find this?”
“In my records.”
“Look at the transaction number.”
I read it aloud.
She was typing.
“Give me five minutes.”
Four minutes later, my phone rang again.
“That payment did not go to Crestview.”
“What?”
“The merchant label makes it look like Crestview.”
“But the processor number belongs to a private medical logistics company.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind of logistics?”
“Cryogenic transport.”
I stared at the receipt.
Marcus had paid to move something.
“When?”
“Two days after your embryos reached blastocyst stage.”
I stopped breathing.
“He paid to transfer them.”
“It appears likely.”
“Both?”
“We don’t know.”
Then Dana said something that made the room feel colder.
“Elena, the billing address on the processor account is tied to a corporation.”
“What corporation?”
“Mercer Family Holdings.”
Marcus’s private company.
The same entity that owned the estate.
The same entity that had suddenly become inaccessible to me during the divorce.
“He didn’t just know.”
“No.”
Dana’s voice was grim.
“He financed it.”
The genetic testing took place the next afternoon.
Marcus arrived wearing a charcoal suit.
Chloe arrived looking as if she had not slept.
The baby was better.
His fever had fallen.
His name, I learned from a nurse, was Noah.
Noah Mercer.
The name punched through me.
Marcus and I had once kept a list of baby names in a drawer beside our bed.
Noah had been first on that list for boys.
Chloe knew that.
Of course she knew.
She had helped me write it.
When I heard the nurse say his name, I turned toward Chloe.
She understood immediately.
Her eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You don’t get to use that sentence yet.”
Marcus stepped between us.
“Don’t speak to her.”
Chloe laughed bitterly.
“You barely spoke to me all night.”
“That was different.”
“Was it?”
Marcus ignored her.
A technician entered.
“We’ll be collecting buccal swabs from the child, Ms. Mercer, Mr. Mercer, and Ms. Hale.”
Chloe frowned.
“Why me?”
“To establish maternal comparison.”
She went pale.
Marcus glanced at her.
“You said you carried him.”
“I did.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
Chloe whispered, “I carried him.”
The technician looked uncomfortable.
No one answered.
The swabs took less than ten minutes.
The consequences would last forever.
As we were leaving, Dana caught my arm.
“Dr. Thorne found the second facility.”
I stopped.
“Where?”
“St. Agnes Cryogenic Research Center.”
I frowned.
“That isn’t a fertility clinic.”
“No.”
“What is it?”
“A research storage facility.”
My stomach twisted.
“Research?”
“Your embryo was transferred there under something called Protocol Seventeen.”
Marcus was close enough to hear.
His face changed.
Dana saw it.
“So you recognize that.”
Marcus immediately recovered.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Dana smiled coldly.
“That sentence is becoming less useful every time you say it.”
Grant Holloway appeared behind him.
“Marcus, leave.”
For once, Marcus obeyed.
I watched him disappear into the elevator.
Then I turned to Dana.
“What is Protocol Seventeen?”
“We’re still finding out.”
Dr. Thorne joined us.
“I may know.”
He held a tablet in his hand.
“Several years ago, Crestview participated in a controlled study involving long-term embryo viability after extended cryopreservation.”
My mouth went dry.
“Did I consent to research?”
“No.”
“Could my embryo legally have been transferred there?”
“Not without explicit consent.”
“Did they use it?”
“We don’t know.”
The elevator doors opened.
A hospital courier stepped out carrying a padded envelope.
He walked directly toward Dr. Thorne.
“Dr. Thorne?”
“Yes.”
“This came from St. Agnes.”
Dr. Thorne signed.
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a printed statement.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
His expression became increasingly disturbed.
“What?”
I asked.
He looked at Dana.
“You need to see this.”
She read over his shoulder.
Her face hardened.
“What does it say?”
Neither answered.
I grabbed the paper.
The first paragraph contained technical language.
The second contained dates.
The third contained one sentence I understood perfectly.
SPECIMEN 17-B WAS RELEASED FROM STORAGE FOLLOWING AUTHORIZATION BY DESIGNATED GENETIC PARENTS.
Below it were two names.
Marcus Mercer.
Elena Mercer.
And beneath my name was another forged signature.
I looked at the release date.
Eight months ago.
My entire body went numb.
“Eight months ago?”
Dana nodded.
“The embryo was still there after the divorce.”
“Yes.”
“Marcus transferred it after our marriage ended.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
The page did not say.
Dr. Thorne turned it over.
There was a second document stapled behind it.
A shipping manifest.
Destination:
Asteria International Fertility Group.
Prague, Czech Republic.
I stared at Dana.
“My embryo was sent overseas?”
She nodded.
“Apparently.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
Then something made me answer.
“Hello?”
There was breathing.
A woman.
Then a whisper.
“Is this Elena Mercer?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Heather Sloan.”
Dr. Thorne’s face changed.
He recognized the name.
“I used to work in the embryology records department at Crestview.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“I know what Marcus did.”
I put the call on speaker.
Heather began crying.
“I helped him.”
No one moved.
“I helped Dr. Keller change your files.”
My knees weakened.
“Why are you calling now?”
“Because Marcus called me twenty minutes ago.”
Dana grabbed a pen.
“What did he say?”
Heather took a shaking breath.
“He told me Keller disappeared.”
Another breath.
“He said if anyone contacted me, I was supposed to destroy everything.”
Dana leaned closer to the phone.
“Do you still have evidence?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Enough to prove the embryo transfers.”
I closed my eyes.
“And the fertility reports?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you keep it?”
Heather began sobbing.
“Because I knew someday someone would find out.”
Then her voice dropped to a whisper.
“But there’s something else.”
I looked at Dr. Thorne.
Heather continued.
“The embryo sent to Prague wasn’t sent for storage.”
My heart stopped.
“What was it sent for?”
A long silence followed.
Then Heather said, “Implantation.”
Dana gripped my arm.
“Into whom?”
“I don’t know.”
Heather started crying harder.
“But the transfer was successful.”
Every hair on my arms rose.
“How do you know?”
“Because Keller received an update from Asteria.”
“What update?”
Heather whispered the answer.
“A positive pregnancy confirmation.”
May you like
And suddenly Chloe’s ten-month-old son was no longer the only child I might have lost.
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