Chapter 4 - THE CONFESSION CLAIRE HEARD IN THE HOSPITAL HALLWAY
Claire laughed.
One sharp breath.
“No.”
Richard handed her the report.
She did not take it.
“Dad, what is this?”
“A paternity test.”
“Why would you test them?”
Nobody answered.
Claire looked at Margaret.
“Mom?”
Margaret’s face crumpled.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
She looked at Mark.
His chest tightened.
Her eyes stopped on his neck.
Then something changed.
Mark watched the thought form.
She turned toward the nursery.
Joseph’s bassinet was visible through the glass.
The little mark beneath his ear.
Claire looked back at Mark.
“No.”
He whispered:
“Claire.”
She stepped away.
“No.”
Margaret stood.
“Sweetheart.”
“Do not call me that.”
Richard closed the lounge door.
Claire’s eyes moved between them.
“When?”
Nobody spoke.
She started shaking.
“When?”
Mark answered.
“Your birthday.”
Her face emptied.
“Which birthday?”
He could barely speak.
“Last year.”
“The lake house.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at Margaret.
“Mom?”
Margaret nodded.
The sound Claire made did not resemble crying.
It sounded like air leaving something punctured.
“You slept with my husband.”
Margaret started toward her.
Claire backed away.
“Don’t.”
“Claire.”
“Don’t touch me.”
Mark said:
“It happened once.”
Claire turned.
“That sentence is supposed to help who?”
“No one.”
“You came home.”
“Yes.”
“You got into bed with me.”
“Yes.”
“You let me ask why you were distant.”
Mark looked down.
“You watched me blame myself.”
“I know.”
“Stop saying that.”
Richard leaned against the wall.
He looked older by the minute.
Claire turned to him.
“You knew?”
“Not until today.”
“You suspected.”
Richard closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
“And said nothing.”
“I didn’t know.”
“Everyone in this family apparently needs laboratory confirmation before honesty.”
No one answered.
Then Claire looked toward the twins again.
“Are they his?”
“We don’t know.”
Margaret’s voice shook.
Claire stared.
“How can you not know?”
Margaret tried to explain.
“Because my pregnancy was IVF.”
“I know.”
“Donor eggs.”
“I know.”
“Two embryos were transferred before the lake house.”
Claire froze.
Mark watched her mind change direction.
“Before?”
“Yes.”
“Then Mark cannot be the father from sex.”
“Not from that night.”
Claire looked at him.
The humiliation did not leave.
It simply gained another room.
“Then why are we talking about him being the father?”
Margaret showed her the invoice.
Claire read the patient number.
Her face changed.
“No.”
Mark whispered:
“We think there may be a clinic issue.”
Claire read the line.
CRYOSTORAGE REMOVAL.
Her hand started shaking.
“My embryos.”
“We don’t know.”
She turned on Mark.
“How many are still stored?”
“Two.”
“You checked?”
“Not yet.”
“Why not?”
“I came straight here.”
Claire grabbed her phone.
She logged into Lakeview Reproductive Center.
Password.
Two-factor code.
The account loaded.
Stored embryos:
0.
Claire stopped breathing.
“What?”
Mark took the phone.
The storage dashboard showed:
CRYOSTORAGE CLOSED.
DISPOSITION COMPLETED.
Date:
Nine months earlier.
Five days before Margaret’s embryo transfer.
Mark’s vision narrowed.
“That’s impossible.”
Claire stared.
“We never signed disposition.”
“No.”
“Our renewal was paid.”
“Yes.”
“By you?”
“Yes.”
“I paid too.”
Mark frowned.
“What?”
“I paid the annual fee in January.”
“So did I.”
They looked at each other.
Claire’s eyes narrowed.
“Why would they take both payments?”
“No idea.”
Margaret sat slowly.
“I’m sorry.”
Claire turned.
“Do not.”
Margaret stopped.
“You knew about the wrong patient number.”
“Yes.”
“For three months.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“Yes.”
Claire looked at all three of them.
Her husband.
Her mother.
Her father.
Every adult she trusted had chosen delay.
She walked to the door.
Mark followed.
“Claire.”
“Stay away from me.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No.”
“Where are you going?”
She turned.
“To the clinic.”
“It’s almost six.”
“I don’t care.”
“Claire.”
She held up one finger.
“If you follow me, I will call security.”
Mark stopped.
She left.
Richard said quietly:
“Let her go.”
Mark stared.
“She shouldn’t drive like this.”
“I’ll have a car take her.”
Richard called downstairs.
Margaret sat with both hands over her face.
Mark looked through the nursery window.
Joseph moved in his blanket.
The mark disappeared beneath the fabric.
A few minutes later, Claire texted Mark.
One sentence.
DO NOT COME HOME TONIGHT.
He read it twice.
Then another message came.
A screenshot from Lakeview’s portal.
Embryo disposition authorization.
Two signatures.
CLAIRE HAYES.
MARK HAYES.
Both electronic.
Mark stared.
“I never signed this.”
Margaret looked up.
Neither had Claire.
At the bottom, the authorization stated:
Release for compassionate directed donation.
Recipient information confidential.
Mark’s stomach turned.
Somebody had not accidentally lost their embryos.
Somebody had signed them away.
May you like
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