Chapter 6 - THE DAUGHTERS HE NEVER TOLD ME ABOUT
The first pregnancy had been a girl.
The second too.
The third too.
My fourth baby was a girl.
James had known every time.
I had known none.
After the first miscarriage, genetic testing had revealed a chromosomal condition.
The report also included fetal sex.
James saw it.
I had asked him not to tell me.
After the second, the lab again identified female fetal tissue.
After the third, same.
James kept every result.
I sat on Martin’s sofa in Long Island City and felt grief rearrange itself.
Not because they were girls.
Because James had been holding a fact about my pregnancies that connected all four of them to Carol’s ugliest obsession.
I called Dr. Patel.
“Can fetal sex be known at those stages?”
“Yes.”
“Would James have access to pathology?”
“Potentially if you authorized shared portal access.”
I had.
Years ago.
“Could Carol?”
“Not through the hospital unless authorized.”
James.
He had been the bridge.
The first loss had a clear chromosomal cause.
Carol had not caused that one.
At least all available evidence said she had not.
I held onto that.
Reality mattered more than the story fear wanted.
The second was less clear.
The third was now deeply suspicious.
Four pregnancies.
Four girls.
Carol repeating:
A Parker grandson has to be strong.
I remembered her after my first miscarriage.
“You’ll give James a boy someday.”
I had been lying in a hospital bed.
I thought it was her awkward way of offering hope.
After the second:
“Maybe your body is telling us something.”
After the third, she stood at our kitchen sink and said:
“Some women just aren’t built to continue a line.”
I told James.
He defended her.
“She’s grieving too.”
Grieving what?
Not the babies.
The absence of a grandson.
Detective Rivera asked me not to confront James further without counsel.
His admission that he had suspected Carol after the third miscarriage mattered.
So did his knowledge of the fetal sex.
Neither proved conspiracy.
His devices would matter if lawful access was obtained.
Ava mattered too.
She agreed to meet me with attorneys present.
Not police.
Not yet.
She wanted to speak woman to woman.
I almost refused.
Then Martin said, “Information is information.”
So I went.
We met in a private room at his office.
Ava arrived with her lawyer, a woman named Priya Shah.
Ava looked exhausted.
No gardenia.
No makeup.
She sat across from me.
“I’m sorry.”
I held up one hand.
“Don’t start there.”
She nodded.
Good.
“When did you know I was still married?”
“I always knew you were legally married.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
She looked down.
“April.”
The affair began in February.
“You continued.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because he said you two had been emotionally over for years.”
I laughed softly.
“He was trying to get me pregnant during those years.”
Ava’s face twisted.
“I know that now.”
“When did you get pregnant?”
“March.”
“And when did Carol find out?”
“Before James.”
I frowned.
“How?”
“She noticed I stopped drinking at an event.”
Of course.
“What did she say?”
Ava looked embarrassed.
“She asked if it was James’s.”
“And?”
“I denied it.”
“She didn’t believe you.”
“No.”
“When James found out?”
“He panicked.”
“About me?”
“About everything.”
“What did Carol do?”
Ava swallowed.
“She was happy.”
I almost smiled.
“Happy.”
“She said it was complicated but maybe God had finally stopped being cruel.”
My hands tightened.
“What did that mean?”
“I thought she meant because James had lost three pregnancies.”
“Did she say boy?”
“Not yet.”
“Then?”
“At twelve weeks, I had genetic screening.”
“You found out.”
“Yes.”
“When you told James?”
“He cried.”
I looked away.
I did not want that image.
Ava continued.
“He called Carol.”
“What did she say?”
“She came over.”
“To Greenwich?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She brought champagne for James.”
My stomach turned.
“Did she mention me?”
Ava nodded.
“What?”
“She said he needed to stop trying to make something work that obviously wasn’t meant to.”
“My marriage?”
Ava looked at my stomach.
“Your pregnancies.”
Silence.
“What did James say?”
“He told her to shut up.”
I looked at her.
That surprised me.
“He said, ‘Don’t talk about Eleanor like that.’”
“So he defended me.”
“Yes.”
“Then kept sleeping with you.”
Ava closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
Human beings.
Always complicated enough to make hatred inconvenient.
“What changed?”
I asked.
Ava looked at Priya.
Then back.
“Three weeks ago, Carol came to Greenwich without James.”
“Why?”
“She wanted me to sign something.”
“What?”
“A confidentiality agreement.”
“About the affair?”
“And the baby.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She added a clause saying I would not seek publicity or contact you.”
I stared.
“That sounds normal for them.”
“She also wanted me to agree James would have primary say over the baby’s last name and religious upbringing.”
“What religion?”
Ava gave a small, confused laugh.
“Exactly.”
Carol was not deeply religious.
She was deeply Parker.
“What did you say?”
“No.”
“And?”
“She got angry.”
“How angry?”
“She said I should be grateful.”
“For what?”
“Giving James a son.”
I leaned back.
Ava’s eyes filled.
“That was the first time I understood I wasn’t special to her.”
No.
She was useful.
Just like me.
“What did James say when you told him?”
“He told me Mom was old-fashioned.”
“Of course.”
“Then he said something else.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Just keep her happy until Eleanor gets through this pregnancy.’”
My pulse changed.
“Why until then?”
“I asked.”
“And?”
“He said if anything went wrong with you again, Carol would become impossible.”
I stared.
“He expected something could go wrong.”
Ava nodded.
“I didn’t understand why that sentence bothered me until now.”
She reached into her bag.
“My lawyer told me not to delete anything.”
“Good lawyer.”
Priya almost smiled.
Ava handed Martin a printed text thread.
James and Carol.
A screenshot Ava had taken from James’s phone two months earlier after Carol insulted her.
Most of it was ordinary.
Then one exchange.
CAROL: Does Eleanor know yet?
JAMES: No.
CAROL: Keep it that way.
JAMES: She wants surprise.
CAROL: Better.
JAMES: Mom.
CAROL: What?
JAMES: Do not start.
CAROL: I’m saying nothing.
JAMES: Good.
Then another message four minutes later.
CAROL: Four girls.
JAMES: Stop.
CAROL: God is very clear sometimes.
JAMES: I said stop.
I stared.
It did not prove poisoning.
But it proved they both understood exactly what Carol’s obsession was.
Then Ava turned the page.
A later message.
One week before the soup.
CAROL: I found what I need.
JAMES: For what?
CAROL: Don’t worry about it.
JAMES: That phrase has never made me worry less.
CAROL: You have your son. Let me handle the rest.
James did not reply.
That was where the screenshot ended.
I looked at Ava.
“Why did you save this?”
“Because I started being afraid of her.”
I touched my stomach.
“So did I.”
Then Priya said, “There is one more thing.”
“What?”
“Ava did not take only one screenshot.”
She opened another page.
This one was between James and Carol after my third miscarriage.
Three years earlier.
May you like
JAMES: What did you give her?
My entire body went cold.
