Chapter 3 - THE FERTILITY CLINIC
I understood before James did.
Maybe because some memories never truly disappear.
Seven years earlier, after two miscarriages, James and I had gone to Whitmore Reproductive Medicine.
The clinic had been recommended by Margaret.
At the time, I thought she was helping us.
Now I remembered how involved she had been.
She chose the specialist.
She arranged our first appointment.
She paid a portion of the treatment bill as an anniversary gift.
She even insisted on driving me to one embryo transfer when James was trapped in Chicago during a business emergency.
I looked at Margaret.
“The clinic.”
James turned toward me.
“What?”
“She said this started before Lily was inside me.”
I could barely form the words.
“She means the clinic.”
Margaret’s silence confirmed it.
James looked horrified.
“No.”
I handed Lily to him.
“Hold her.”
“Emily.”
“Hold our daughter.”
I emphasized the word our.
Then I walked directly toward Margaret.
“What did you do?”
Her attorney stepped between us.
“Mrs. Whitmore, I advise you to say nothing.”
I looked around him.
“What did you do to my pregnancy?”
Margaret adjusted the sleeve of her evening gown.
“I did nothing to your pregnancy.”
“Then explain the test.”
“You’re emotional.”
“I am one sentence away from becoming much more emotional.”
James came beside me with Lily in his arms.
“Tell us.”
Margaret looked at Lily.
Her expression changed.
Not softness.
Possession.
“I made sure the right embryo survived.”
I felt the room disappear around me.
“What?”
“The embryos you and James created were weak.”
“That isn’t true.”
“The doctors told you what frightened patients need to hear.”
“You’re lying.”
Margaret leaned closer.
“Ask Dr. Arthur Reeves.”
I remembered him.
Gray hair.
Expensive glasses.
Gentle voice.
The fertility specialist who had hugged me after Lily’s heartbeat appeared on the first ultrasound.
James pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling him.”
Margaret smiled again.
“You can try.”
James searched for the clinic.
His expression changed.
“What the hell?”
“What?”
“The clinic closed four years ago.”
I had never known.
We stopped returning after Lily turned one.
There had been no reason.
James opened another search result.
“Reeves surrendered his medical license.”
My stomach dropped.
“For what?”
James read silently.
Then he looked at me.
“Improper handling of reproductive material.”
Margaret began walking toward the exit.
I moved in front of her.
“You are not leaving.”
“My attorney disagrees.”
The hotel manager suddenly approached.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
Margaret turned.
He looked uncomfortable.
“The police are downstairs.”
James had apparently made the call before I realized it.
Margaret’s attorney whispered into her ear.
But I was no longer looking at them.
I was looking at Noah.
The waiter stood beside the dessert table holding something small.
A black phone.
He walked toward me.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
“Yes?”
“I recorded part of her phone conversation.”
Margaret went completely still.
Noah lowered his voice.
“I think you need to hear what she said about the doctor.”
He pressed play.
Margaret’s recorded voice came through clearly.
“Reeves has kept quiet for six years.”
A man answered through the speaker.
May you like
Then Margaret said the sentence that made James grab the back of a chair.
“If he talks now, everyone finds out what really happened to Emily’s embryos.”
