Chapter 6 - THE LETTER
I almost tore the envelope opening it.
The paper inside smelled faintly of dust.
Charles Whitmore had been dead long enough that seeing his handwriting felt like hearing a ghost speak.
Emily,
If you are reading this, then something has happened that I tried very hard to prevent.
I stopped.
James leaned closer.
I continued.
You may be told that any child created from the genetic material Margaret and I preserved belongs to the Whitmore family.
That is false.
A child belongs to the people who love and raise that child.
Not to a trust.
Not to a corporation.
And certainly not to Margaret.
My throat tightened.
Charles knew his wife.
He had known exactly what she was capable of.
The letter continued.
Years ago, Margaret and I preserved embryos while pursuing fertility treatment.
Most were destroyed at my request after our marriage deteriorated.
One was not.
Arthur Reeves informed me that Margaret secretly prevented its destruction.
I attempted to place legal restrictions around its use.
If that embryo was ever implanted without the carrier’s informed consent, a crime has been committed.
James leaned against the wall.
I could not breathe.
The final paragraph was worse.
If the carrier is you, Emily, then I am sorry.
I chose you as the recipient of this letter because Margaret became strangely interested in your fertility treatment shortly before my death.
I hoped I was wrong.
I stared at the page.
Charles died less than a year before our first fertility consultation.
He had noticed Margaret’s interest before we even realized how difficult pregnancy would become.
James took the letter.
“Why didn’t you give this to Emily?”
He demanded.
Martin looked ashamed.
“Charles instructed me to deliver it only if the preserved embryo was confirmed to have been used.”
“You knew Lily existed.”
“I did not know she came from that embryo.”
“You knew there was a possibility.”
“Yes.”
James grabbed Martin’s jacket.
“You watched us raise her for six years.”
I pulled him back.
“James.”
He let go.
Martin straightened his coat.
“I made a terrible decision.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother told me the embryo had been destroyed.”
“And you believed her?”
Martin looked toward the ICU.
“No.”
He said it so quietly I almost missed it.
“I believed Arthur Reeves.”
A nurse appeared.
“Family of Dr. Reeves?”
James stepped forward.
“Yes.”
“He’s awake.”
My pulse jumped.
“Can we speak with him?”
“For a few minutes.”
We followed her down the hallway.
Arthur Reeves looked fifteen years older than I remembered.
Bruises covered one side of his face.
A breathing tube had been removed.
Machines surrounded him.
His eyes found me immediately.
He began crying.
“Emily.”
I stood at the foot of his bed.
“Was Lily the embryo?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
James cursed beneath his breath.
I forced myself to ask the next question.
“Did you implant Margaret and Charles Whitmore’s embryo into me without my permission?”
Reeves opened his eyes again.
His voice cracked.
“Yes.”
My knees almost failed.
James caught me.
Reeves started shaking his head.
“But you still don’t know the worst part.”
I stared at him.
“What could possibly be worse?”
He looked at James.
“Your mother did not act alone.”
James froze.
May you like
Reeves lifted one trembling finger.
Then he pointed directly at my husband.
