Chapter 4 - THE BIRTH CERTIFICATE
The room seemed to narrow around me.
I could hear the hospital ventilation system.
I could hear David breathing.
I could hear my father whispering my mother’s name.
I could not understand Rachel’s words.
“You said I carried Emma,” I told her.
“You did,” she replied.
“Then how were you already pregnant?”
Mark stepped closer.
“Claire, there was an embryo transfer.”
“I know what an embryo transfer is.”
“Our clinic told us the embryo came from an anonymous egg donor and my genetic material.”
Mark’s face collapsed under the weight of his own silence.
“That wasn’t the complete truth.”
Rachel had become pregnant after a brief relationship with a man she refused to identify.
She was struggling financially and terrified our parents would reject her.
At the same time, Mark and I had suffered our second miscarriage.
My mother proposed an arrangement.
Rachel would terminate her pregnancy medically at an early stage, but before doing so, the clinic would preserve biological material and create an embryo using Mark’s genetic contribution.
The story sounded medically confusing because it had been disguised from the beginning.
The truth was simpler and worse.
Rachel had agreed to provide eggs during my fertility treatment.
One successful embryo was transferred to me.
Weeks later, Rachel discovered she was also pregnant from a separate relationship.
My parents had hidden both facts.
Emma was genetically connected to Rachel through the donated egg.
She was genetically connected to Mark.
I was the woman who carried and raised her.
Rachel had signed documents agreeing never to claim parental rights.
“You told me the donor was anonymous,” I said to Mark.
“I believed that at first.”
“When did you learn?”
“Three years ago.”
The floor disappeared beneath me again.
For three years, my husband had known that my sister was Emma’s biological aunt and genetic mother.
For three years, he had slept beside me without telling me.
David looked at Rachel as though he had never seen her before.
“You donated the egg used to create Emma?”
Rachel nodded.
“And you never told me?”
“I was ashamed.”
“Of helping your sister have a child?”
“Of everything that came after.”
Detective Hayes stepped forward.
“This family history may explain conflict.”
“It does not explain poison.”
Rachel wiped her cheeks.
“I didn’t poison Emma.”
“You made the drink,” I said.
“Yes.”
“But I left it on the counter.”
“Someone else touched it.”
Detective Hayes asked who.
May you like
Rachel looked toward Mark.
“He did.”
