Chapter 4 - THE CHILD WHO SHOULD NOT EXIST
Nora stared at Ava’s photograph until the screen dimmed.
Then she touched it again.
The fertility clinic logo remained in the corner.
It was impossible to misidentify.
Nora had seen it on appointment cards.
Invoices.
Medication coolers.
Lab forms.
Consent documents.
The blue geometric flower had become a symbol of hope and disappointment in equal measure.
Why did Heather have a clinic folder?
Nora typed slowly.
Why do you have records from my clinic?
Heather did not answer immediately.
Three minutes passed.
Then five.
Nora began to wonder whether the entire conversation was another trap.
At 3:51 a.m., her phone rang.
Heather.
Nora considered letting it go to voicemail.
Then she answered.
Neither woman spoke.
A baby made a soft sound in the background.
Nora’s chest tightened.
Heather finally whispered.
“I’m sorry.”
Nora almost hung up.
“Don’t start with that.”
“I don’t know what else to say.”
“Start with the truth.”
Heather breathed shakily.
“I thought Edgar told you.”
Nora laughed.
“About his girlfriend and seven-month-old daughter?”
“No.”
Heather paused.
“About the embryos.”
Nora stopped.
The hotel room seemed to disappear.
“What embryos?”
Heather went silent.
Nora stood.
“What embryos?”
Heather began crying quietly.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
The kind of crying that came from fear rather than performance.
“Nora, I didn’t know at first.”
“Know what?”
“I swear.”
“Say it.”
Heather inhaled.
“Ava may be biologically yours.”
Nora could not process the sentence.
She heard each word.
She understood each word.
Together they made no sense.
“That’s impossible.”
“I thought so too.”
Nora’s voice became hard.
“Do not call me at four in the morning and tell me your child is mine.”
“She isn’t mine genetically.”
Nora sat down.
Her knees had stopped cooperating.
“What are you saying?”
Heather began explaining.
Eighteen months earlier, Kristina had contacted her.
Heather worked at a private pediatric physical-therapy office in Mesa.
Kristina claimed her son and daughter-in-law were looking for a gestational carrier.
Heather had recently been divorced.
She had medical debt.
Her mother was sick.
Kristina offered money.
A lot of money.
Heather initially refused.
Then Kristina introduced her to Edgar.
Nora closed her eyes.
“So my husband interviewed you to carry our child without telling me?”
“No.”
Heather’s voice trembled.
“That’s what I thought at first.”
“What changed?”
“Edgar.”
Nora waited.
“He started seeing me privately.”
“As part of the arrangement?”
“At first.”
“And then?”
Heather became quiet.
“You know the answer.”
Nora pressed her hand to her mouth.
The humiliation kept finding new forms.
“When did you sleep with him?”
“Three months after I met him.”
“Before the embryo transfer?”
“Yes.”
Nora stood again.
She needed to move.
“So Ava could be Edgar’s naturally.”
“I thought that too.”
“But?”
“But the timeline doesn’t match.”
Nora stopped near the window.
Phoenix glowed below.
“What timeline?”
“The transfer date.”
Nora felt dizzy.
“Transfer of what?”
Heather’s voice became almost inaudible.
“An embryo.”
Nora closed her eyes.
She saw white clinic rooms.
Embryologists.
Consent forms.
Doctors explaining grades and implantation rates.
During Nora’s final retrieval, several embryos had been created.
Only two were considered viable.
One failed to implant.
The other was supposedly nonviable after thaw.
Nora remembered the call.
She had been sitting in her office parking lot.
The nurse said the embryo had not survived.
Nora cried alone in the car for twenty minutes before calling Edgar.
“What embryo?”
Nora whispered.
Heather answered.
“Kristina said it belonged to Edgar.”
“That doesn’t answer me.”
“She said Edgar and his first wife had created embryos years ago.”
“Edgar has never been married before.”
“I know that now.”
Nora leaned against the glass.
Her reflection looked like a stranger.
“Did you go to my clinic?”
“No.”
“Where was the transfer performed?”
“A private reproductive center in California.”
“Name?”
Heather gave it.
Nora had heard of the center.
Expensive.
Discreet.
Used by wealthy international clients.
“How did they have the embryo?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who arranged it?”
“Kristina handled everything.”
“Edgar?”
“He attended the transfer.”
Nora shut her eyes.
There it was again.
Edgar.
Present.
Complicit.
Not some foolish man manipulated entirely by his mother.
He had attended the transfer.
“Did he know whose embryo it was?”
Heather hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not good enough.”
“I truly don’t.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He called it his second chance.”
Nora laughed bitterly.
Of course he did.
“What makes you think Ava is biologically mine?”
Heather took a breath.
“Three weeks ago, Ava needed genetic screening.”
“Why?”
“She was having unexplained anemia.”
Nora’s anger disappeared instantly.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s fine now.”
The concern escaped Nora before she could stop it.
Heather noticed.
“Her pediatrician ordered expanded testing.”
“And?”
“I received the results.”
Heather paused.
“They didn’t make sense.”
“How?”
“The report listed genetic markers consistent with two biological parents.”
“Yes.”
“One is Edgar.”
Nora braced herself.
“The other isn’t me.”
Silence.
“That’s normal if you carried an embryo.”
“Yes.”
“So why call me?”
“Because Kristina left a folder at my apartment months ago.”
Nora looked at the photograph.
“The clinic folder.”
“Yes.”
“I thought it was paperwork about the transfer.”
“And?”
“I opened it after the genetic results came back.”
Heather inhaled shakily.
“Your name was inside.”
Nora sank onto the sofa.
“What exactly was inside?”
“Embryology records.”
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“Patient number?”
Heather read it.
Nora knew the last four digits.
She had typed them into clinic portals dozens of times.
Her stomach turned.
“What else?”
“A frozen embryo inventory.”
Nora could barely breathe.
“There should be none.”
Heather whispered.
“That’s what the document says now.”
“What?”
“One embryo transferred.”
Nora gripped the edge of the table.
“Transferred when?”
Heather gave the date.
Nora calculated.
Ava had been born almost exactly thirty-eight weeks later.
Nora closed her eyes.
Someone had taken one of her embryos.
Her embryo.
And implanted it into her husband’s mistress.
The horror was so strange that her mind rejected it.
“This is impossible.”
“I wish it were.”
“My clinic told me the embryo was lost.”
“Then someone lied.”
Nora suddenly remembered the stolen fertility records from her office safe.
Someone had broken in tonight specifically to remove her copy.
Not random.
Not secondary.
Critical.
The records could connect Ava to Nora.
“Do you have the folder?”
“Yes.”
“Do not give it to Edgar.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not give it to Kristina.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not destroy anything.”
“I haven’t.”
“Take photographs of every page.”
“I already did.”
“Send them to me.”
Heather hesitated.
“What?”
“I need something first.”
Nora almost laughed.
“Money?”
“No.”
“What?”
“Protection.”
Nora went silent.
Heather whispered.
“I think Kristina is coming for me next.”
Nora felt cold.
“Why?”
“Because I told her I had the genetic report.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
Nora stood.
“What happened?”
“She came to my apartment.”
“What did she say?”
“She wanted the folder.”
“Did you give it to her?”
“No.”
Heather’s breathing quickened.
“She became furious.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Did she threaten you?”
“Not directly.”
“What did she say?”
Heather repeated it.
“Ava doesn’t need two mothers confusing her future.”
Nora felt sick.
Heather continued.
“Then she said accidents happen to women who don’t know when to walk away.”
Nora immediately called Daniel on a second line.
He answered within two rings.
“What happened?”
“I need you awake.”
“I am now.”
Nora summarized quickly.
Daniel said nothing for several seconds.
Then he asked Heather’s address.
Heather refused.
Nora did not blame her.
Daniel told Nora to have Heather contact an independent lawyer immediately.
He also told Heather to preserve the genetic test, clinic folder, messages, bank records, and anything related to Kristina or Edgar.
Then he asked the most important question.
“Was there a gestational-surrogacy contract?”
Heather said yes.
“Who is listed as intended parent?”
Silence.
Heather whispered.
“Edgar Finch.”
Daniel asked.
“Only Edgar?”
“Yes.”
Nora stared at the phone.
No Nora.
No spouse.
No second intended parent.
Daniel cursed.
“That document may be fraudulent.”
Heather sounded frightened.
“How?”
“If the embryo genetically belongs to Nora, its transfer without her informed consent could involve serious crimes and civil violations.”
Nora closed her eyes.
Daniel continued.
“We need the clinic records.”
Heather suddenly whispered.
“Someone’s outside.”
Nora stood instantly.
“What?”
Heather stopped breathing.
A soft knock sounded through the phone.
Three knocks.
Slow.
Heather whispered.
“It’s almost four thirty.”
“Do not open the door.”
“I’m not.”
Another knock.
Then a man’s voice.
“Heather?”
Nora recognized it.
Edgar.
Her entire body tightened.
Heather whispered.
“How did he find me?”
Nora almost shouted.
“He knows where you live.”
“No.”
That stopped her.
“What?”
“I moved four days ago.”
Nora’s blood went cold.
“Who has the new address?”
“My sister.”
“Anyone else?”
“My attorney.”
“Kristina?”
“No.”
“Edgar?”
“No.”
Another knock.
“Heather, I know you’re inside.”
Edgar’s voice came clearly through the call.
Nora looked toward Daniel.
Daniel was already contacting police.
Nora whispered.
“Do not open the door.”
Heather picked up Ava.
Nora could hear the baby fussing.
Edgar knocked again.
“I just want to talk.”
Heather remained silent.
Then Edgar said something that terrified Nora.
“I know you called Nora.”
Heather gasped.
Nora’s heart pounded.
How?
The call had lasted less than fifteen minutes.
Heather whispered.
“My phone.”
“What?”
“He gave it to me.”
Nora understood.
A device.
Tracking software.
Shared account.
Something.
“Turn it off.”
Heather did.
The call died.
Nora stared at the silent screen.
Daniel immediately called Scottsdale police and then requested Mesa-area officers through dispatch based on Heather’s approximate information.
But they did not know the exact address.
Nora called Heather again.
Phone off.
She called again.
Nothing.
Daniel paced.
“Do you know her sister’s name?”
“No.”
“Employer?”
“Yes.”
Daniel began searching contact information.
Nora’s phone buzzed.
A new message.
Edgar.
She opened it.
Stop interfering in things you don’t understand.
Nora stared.
Another arrived.
Ava is not your child.
Then another.
Heather is unstable.
Nora typed nothing.
Edgar sent one more.
My mother was trying to protect us from her.
Nora laughed in disbelief.
The gaslighting was almost elegant.
Kristina hid a rattlesnake in Nora’s bed.
Nora’s car exploded.
Her safe had been burglarized.
Heather possessed records suggesting Nora’s embryo had been transferred without consent.
And Edgar wanted her to believe Heather was the problem.
Nora took screenshots.
Daniel forwarded them to Alvarez.
Five minutes later, Nora’s phone rang again.
Unknown number.
She answered.
A woman whispered.
“Is this Nora Preston?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Heather’s sister.”
Nora stood.
“How did you get my number?”
“Heather wrote it on a note.”
“Where is she?”
The woman was crying.
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“I went to her apartment because she stopped answering.”
Nora’s chest tightened.
“The door was open.”
Nora closed her eyes.
“Ava?”
“The crib is empty.”
Daniel stopped moving.
Nora could barely speak.
“Is Heather there?”
“No.”
“Edgar?”
“No.”
“What do you see?”
The sister breathed shakily.
“Her phone is smashed on the kitchen floor.”
Nora felt the blood leave her face.
“Call 911.”
“I already did.”
“Do not touch anything.”
“There’s blood.”
Nora gripped the phone.
“How much?”
“Not a lot.”
“Where?”
“Near the door.”
Nora could hear police sirens through the call.
Then Heather’s sister made a strange sound.
“What?”
Nora asked.
“There’s something written on the wall.”
Nora’s stomach dropped.
“What does it say?”
The woman read it.
May you like
“Stop looking for what was never yours.”
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