parents were Nathan’s name and Audrey’s. The embryo source field read Kessler-Dane, and the transfer code was ND-4.
Not CR-7.
My first reaction was almost relief. Clerical mistakes happened. Files became attached to the wrong account. Someone at Northlake had clicked the wrong name.
Then Dr. Cho opened the consent documents.
My signature appeared on every page.
I supposedly acknowledged that the pregnancy would have no genetic relationship to me. I supposedly agreed to surrender the child after delivery. I supposedly authorized Nathan to receive all medical information and make decisions if I became emotionally incapable of cooperating.
The signature looked convincing enough to fool a stranger.
The timestamp did not.
The documents had been submitted at 2:14 in the morning after the embryo transfer, while I was sleeping in Northlake’s recovery suite.
Dr. Cho opened one final note. It stated that disclosure of genetic parentage had been deferred at the intended father’s request until the pregnancy reached twelve weeks.
“Is that normal?” I asked.
“No.” Her voice was quiet. “None of this is normal.”
My hand moved over my abdomen.
“What are you saying?”
“I am saying the records indicate that someone placed another couple’s embryo in you without your informed consent.”
The room seemed to narrow around me.
Dr. Cho pulled a chair close and sat facing me. “I trained at Northlake. I know their forms. These documents should have required an independent witness and a separate counseling appointment with you alone. There is no record of either.”
“Nathan handled the paperwork.”
“I assumed he was helping.”
“Who else had access?”
I thought of Audrey driving us to the clinic. Audrey carrying my bag. Audrey taking Nathan’s phone when it rang and returning twenty minutes later. Audrey sitting beside my bed while the sedative pulled me under.
Dr. Cho printed the referral, signed each page, and gave me the originals in a sealed envelope.
“Do you have somewhere safe to go?”
I looked at the ultrasound image still frozen on the monitor.
For years, Nathan had seen me cry after every failed procedure. He knew how badly I wanted this pregnancy. He had counted on that longing making me easy to control.
He did not understand that disappointment had trained me to function while my heart was breaking.
“I will be safe,” I said, “as long as he thinks I know nothing.”
I photographed the documents and sent them to Leah Grant, Rowan & Finch’s general counsel and my friend since college.
Her reply came in less than a minute.
Do not confront him. Leave the clinic through a private exit. I’m calling you.
I turned off location sharing before answering.
Leah listened without interrupting. When I finished, she said, “Go to the apartment above the old Bellweather project. I’ll meet you there.”
“I need to go home first.”
“No.”
“There will be evidence in Nathan’s study. If he knows the clinic exposed him, it will disappear.”
“Celia, this is not a contract dispute.”
“I know.”
That was why I could not arrive with police before I understood the whole plan.
I took a car to the street behind our house and entered through the garden gate. Audrey’s silver sedan was parked behind the garage, hidden from the road.
Inside, Nathan stood at the kitchen island beside a
