Chapter 4 - MY STOLEN MEDICAL FILE
The envelope contained copies of my IVF records.
Not summaries.
Not vague insurance statements.
Actual medical records.
Embryo transfer dates.
Hormone levels.
Ultrasound notes.
Genetic screening results.
Even photographs of our embryos.
The copies had been printed from a clinic system.
Mara brought only a list of what investigators found.
She would not bring the records themselves to my hospital room.
“Those are mine.”
“I know.”
“How did Chloe get them?”
“We’re investigating.”
“She was never authorized.”
“I understand.”
“Julian was.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the wall.
“Could he download them?”
“Potentially.”
Rachel looked furious.
“Why would anyone give those to Chloe?”
I knew one reason.
Humiliation.
Beatrice had obsessed over the fact that we needed IVF.
She called it unnatural when Julian was not listening.
Arthur once asked whether a child conceived “under laboratory conditions” would create inheritance complications.
I thought he was being cruel.
Maybe he was being strategic.
“What exactly did the genetic report say?”
Mara asked.
I looked at her.
“You read it?”
“No.”
“Then why ask?”
“Because someone highlighted several pages.”
My mouth went dry.
“Our son is genetically ours.”
“Meaning your egg and Julian’s sperm?”
“Yes.”
“No donor material?”
“No.”
Mara nodded.
“That matters.”
“Why?”
“Because handwritten notes on the copies question whether the child qualifies as a ‘natural issue’ under the trust.”
I stared at her.
“Natural issue?”
“Old legal language.”
Rachel whispered.
“That is disgusting.”
Mara continued.
“One note says, ‘Need alternate heir recognized first.’”
My whole body went cold.
“Whose handwriting?”
“We’re comparing.”
“Arthur?”
“Possibly.”
“Beatrice?”
“Possibly.”
I looked at my stomach.
Our baby had been turned into a legal obstacle.
Not a grandson.
Not a child.
An obstacle.
“What if Chloe is pregnant?”
Mara said.
“That appears to be important.”
“Has anyone confirmed she is?”
“No.”
“What does that mean?”
“We found no prenatal appointment under her name at the clinic referenced in her messages.”
“Could she use another clinic?”
“Yes.”
“But?”
Mara hesitated.
“We found images on her phone backup.”
“What images?”
“Ultrasounds.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Then she is pregnant.”
“Not necessarily.”
I looked at Mara.
“What do you mean?”
“The images appear to originate from a public pregnancy forum.”
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Rachel broke first.
“She faked it?”
“We cannot conclude that yet.”
Mara remained careful.
“But the ultrasound image Chloe sent Julian last month matches an image posted online in 2023.”
I felt almost dizzy.
“Julian thought she was pregnant.”
“It appears so.”
“Arthur?”
“We don’t know.”
“Beatrice?”
“We don’t know.”
I thought about the baby shower.
Chloe rubbing her flat stomach.
Beatrice announcing she could give the family what it deserved.
Julian calling Chloe’s child the real heir.
A fake pregnancy.
A real trust clause.
My medical records in Chloe’s car.
This was not only about Julian’s affair.
Someone had built a narrative around Chloe’s unborn child.
An unborn child who might not exist.
Mara’s phone buzzed.
She read something.
“What?”
I asked.
“We found Chloe.”
“Where?”
“She checked into a hotel under another name.”
“Is she under arrest?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She agreed to an interview.”
“When?”
“Now.”
My heart sped up.
“Can I listen?”
“No.”
“Mara.”
“No.”
“Fine.”
I hated when she was right.
Dr. Ruiz entered.
She reviewed the monitor.
“You have been talking too much.”
“I’m lying down.”
“That does not count as resting if the FBI is conducting a conspiracy briefing beside your bed.”
Mara stood.
“I’m leaving.”
“Thank you.”
Dr. Ruiz looked at me.
“And you.”
“I’m innocent.”
“You are impossible.”
She checked my abdomen.
“Pain?”
“Better.”
“Contractions?”
“Less.”
“Bleeding?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“If everything remains stable, I will discharge you this afternoon.”
Rachel smiled.
I did not.
Home no longer felt safe.
Julian had keys.
Arthur’s private investigators apparently knew where I went.
Chloe had my medical records.
Dr. Ruiz noticed.
“You don’t look happy.”
“I don’t know where I’m going.”
Rachel answered before I could continue.
“My house.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Arthur knows you.”
“Arthur also knows my doorbell camera records everything and that my brother is a police officer.”
I almost smiled.
“Rachel.”
“You are not going back to that house.”
She was right.
Nina called before lunch.
She had reviewed the trust.
“It is worse than I thought.”
I closed my eyes.
“Wonderful.”
“The trust was amended twelve years ago.”
“By Arthur?”
“As current family trustee.”
“What changed?”
“The first biological grandchild born to Julian receives an immediate legacy allocation.”
“So our son qualifies.”
“Yes.”
“Then why question IVF?”
“Because the language is archaic and poorly drafted.”
“Can Arthur challenge it?”
“He can try.”
“And Chloe’s child?”
“If she were pregnant with Julian’s biological baby and gave birth first, that child could become the first qualifying grandchild.”
I felt sick.
“She would have to deliver before me.”
“Yes.”
“Chloe is supposedly only a few weeks pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“So she could never give birth first.”
Nina was silent.
Unless.
My skin prickled.
“Nina.”
“There is a provision for acknowledgment before birth.”
“What?”
“Arthur added it.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“Explain.”
“If Julian signs an acknowledgment of paternity and designates an expected child as the primary lineal beneficiary, certain control rights can be reserved before birth.”
My mouth went dry.
“He can move rights away from our son before Chloe gives birth?”
“Potentially.”
“Did he?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I thought about yesterday.
The performance.
The announcement.
The clapping.
Maybe they were not merely humiliating me.
Maybe they wanted witnesses to the introduction of Chloe as carrying Julian’s heir.
“What would they gain?”
“Control.”
Nina sounded disgusted.
“If Julian identifies Chloe’s supposed child as the intended primary beneficiary, Arthur could argue that the family’s succession plan changed before your baby’s birth.”
“Would it work?”
“Probably not.”
“But it could create litigation.”
“For years.”
“And freeze the money.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Mara’s empty chair.
Arthur’s company was about to lose access to millions.
A frozen trust would become leverage.
A compliant mistress would become leverage.
A wife labeled unstable would become easier to remove.
Everything fit too neatly.
Then Mara called.
“I finished the first interview with Chloe.”
I sat straighter.
“Is she pregnant?”
“No.”
The word landed heavily.
Rachel covered her mouth.
I closed my eyes.
“So she lied.”
“Yes.”
“To Julian?”
“Yes.”
“To Beatrice?”
Mara paused.
“No.”
My eyes opened.
“What?”
“Chloe says Beatrice knew from the beginning.”
My body went cold.
“And Arthur?”
“She claims he knew too.”
“What was the point?”
Mara exhaled.
“According to Chloe, Beatrice paid her to pretend she was pregnant.”
Rachel whispered.
“Oh my God.”
I gripped the phone.
“Why?”
“To persuade Julian to sign trust documents.”
My heartbeat accelerated.
“And the affair?”
“Real.”
I laughed once.
It hurt.
“So they used his actual mistress to fake a pregnancy.”
“Yes.”
“Did Julian know it was fake?”
“Chloe says no.”
I stared toward the window.
Julian had betrayed me.
But his own parents had also been manipulating him.
Somehow that did not make me feel better.
“What did Chloe get?”
“Money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand promised.”
“From Arthur?”
“Through Kestrel.”
I remembered the payments.
“Why did she run?”
“Because she saw the agents taking Arthur’s private ledgers.”
“Why did that scare her?”
“She knew her payments were there.”
I took a breath.
“Anything else?”
Mara became quiet.
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Chloe says yesterday was not supposed to end with you being hit.”
I looked at my stomach.
“No kidding.”
“She says the plan was to provoke you.”
My skin went cold.
“Into what?”
“A public emotional outburst.”
Rachel stared.
Mara continued.
“They wanted witnesses to say you became hysterical and aggressive after learning about the affair.”
I understood immediately.
“The court petition.”
“Yes.”
“They already planned to call me unstable.”
“Yes.”
“Julian?”
Mara hesitated.
“Chloe says Julian knew they wanted to document your reaction.”
My throat tightened.
“So he brought her there knowing they wanted me to lose control.”
“Yes.”
“But the punch?”
“She says that was not planned.”
I almost laughed.
The distinction was pathetic.
Julian had intended to psychologically ambush his eight-month-pregnant wife in front of thirty witnesses.
He simply had not planned to punch me afterward.
Mara’s voice softened.
“Clara?”
“I’m here.”
“Chloe also gave us a recording.”
My fingers tightened.
“Of whom?”
“Beatrice.”
“What does she say?”
Mara paused.
Then she told me.
May you like
“Make Clara look dangerous before the baby comes.”
“And whatever happens next, Julian gets the child.”
