Chapter 3 - THE TEST RICHARD ORDERED WITHOUT TELLING US
Richard had noticed the birthmark too.
Not because he knew Mark’s neck.
Because Claire had shown it to him once.
Years earlier.
A photograph from their honeymoon.
Mark asleep on a beach chair.
Claire had joked that the strange crescent under his ear was the one thing she could identify if he ever disappeared.
Richard remembered.
He also remembered something else.
The fertility clinic had insisted both transferred embryos were created using his sperm.
Richard had undergone testing.
Signed consent.
Provided samples.
Paid invoices.
He was sixty-two.
He had spent most of Margaret’s pregnancy hearing people ask why a man his age wanted newborns.
He tolerated it because Margaret was happier than he had seen her in decades.
Now a nurse mentioned Joseph’s unusual mark.
Richard looked.
Then looked at Mark.
And the question entered the room.
He did not ask Margaret first.
He asked the pediatrician whether a paternity test could be performed.
The physician explained that parentage testing was not part of routine newborn care and the hospital would not secretly collect samples for family curiosity.
So Richard contacted a private accredited laboratory.
By noon, he had arranged cheek swabs.
His own.
With Margaret’s consent, the twins’.
He did not ask Mark.
Not yet.
Margaret stared at him in the family lounge.
“You ordered DNA testing?”
“Yes.”
“Without talking to me?”
Richard laughed softly.
“That sentence is going to age badly, isn’t it?”
Mark felt his stomach drop.
Margaret stood.
“You need to rest.”
Richard ignored her.
“Why does the clinic matter?”
Mark looked at Margaret.
She said nothing.
Richard turned.
“Mark?”
He could lie.
Again.
He was getting good at it.
Instead:
“There may be a record issue with the embryos.”
Richard’s expression sharpened.
“What issue?”
“Margaret received an invoice with Claire’s patient number.”
Silence.
Richard looked at his wife.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
He stopped moving.
“You knew three months ago?”
“It may be billing.”
“Did you tell me?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Margaret’s eyes filled.
“I was afraid.”
Richard stepped back.
“Of what?”
She looked at Mark.
That was the mistake.
Richard saw it.
His gaze moved between them.
“Why did you look at him?”
Margaret said:
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
“Richard.”
“What happened at the lake house?”
Mark’s throat closed.
Nobody had mentioned Lake Geneva.
Not explicitly.
Richard had watched them.
Marriage gave people memory for glances strangers would miss.
“What are you talking about?” Margaret asked.
Richard’s face changed.
“Claire left early.”
Margaret went pale.
Richard continued.
“I drank too much.”
Silence.
“I woke at four and Mark’s room was empty.”
Mark felt the floor disappear.
Richard had known something.
Not what.
Enough to store it.
“I assumed he fell asleep outside.”
Nobody spoke.
Richard looked at Mark.
“Did you?”
Mark opened his mouth.
Margaret said:
“Richard, not here.”
That answer destroyed the last safe version.
Richard backed toward the door.
“Oh my God.”
“Richard.”
He held up one hand.
“Do not.”
Margaret started crying.
Mark said:
“We need to wait for testing.”
Richard looked at him with such disgust Mark almost preferred anger.
“Testing.”
“Yes.”
“You slept with my wife and you want laboratory procedure.”
Mark lowered his head.
Richard turned to Margaret.
“When?”
She whispered:
“Claire’s birthday.”
He closed his eyes.
“How many times?”
“Once.”
“Does Claire know?”
“No.”
Richard laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
“Of course not.”
He opened the door.
Margaret grabbed his sleeve.
“Please.”
Richard looked at her hand.
She released him.
“Do not tell Claire until we understand the babies.”
Mark stared.
Richard’s face hardened.
“Still protecting the secret.”
“It’s not about us.”
“It is exactly about you.”
“No.”
Margaret stepped closer.
“If those embryos are wrong, Claire needs facts before she hears that Mark may be Joseph’s father.”
Richard looked at Mark again.
“You think one of those babies is his.”
Margaret did not answer.
“That’s why you’re afraid.”
Silence.
Richard left.
Mark sat down.
“I should tell Claire now.”
Margaret said:
“Yes.”
He looked at her.
“You just asked him not to.”
“I know.”
“What changed?”
“My husband looked at me like I was a stranger.”
Mark almost laughed.
“Welcome.”
Margaret flinched.
He hated himself.
Good.
At five, Claire walked into the lounge carrying two coffees.
“Why is Dad gone?”
Margaret stared.
“He needed air.”
Claire looked at Mark.
“You’re still here?”
“Yes.”
She smiled.
“I thought you had meetings.”
“Canceled.”
“Look at you.”
The affection in her voice felt unbearable.
She handed him coffee.
“Have you held Joseph yet?”
“No.”
“What?”
She laughed.
“You’re terrified of newborns.”
“Something like that.”
Claire sat.
“Mom, pediatrician says Lucy may come home in four days if she keeps feeding well.”
Margaret smiled automatically.
“That’s wonderful.”
“And Joseph maybe sooner.”
Claire reached for her mother’s hand.
Margaret pulled away too quickly.
Claire noticed.
“What’s happening?”
Nothing.
Nobody answered.
Claire’s smile disappeared.
“Why is everyone acting weird?”
Mark looked at Margaret.
Margaret looked at him.
Claire set the coffee down.
“Mark.”
He felt his pulse in his throat.
“I need to tell you something.”
Her face changed.
Before he could continue, Richard returned.
He did not enter.
He stood in the doorway holding his phone.
Margaret looked at him.
“Richard?”
His hand shook.
“The lab called.”
Mark stood.
Claire frowned.
“What lab?”
Richard stared at Margaret.
Then at Mark.
“The twins.”
His voice broke.
“I am not their biological father.”
Claire went still.
“What?”
Richard’s eyes filled.
“Neither of them.”
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