Chapter 4 - Six Embryos and a Million-Dollar LieSophia laughed when I said her name.
It was a delicate sound.
The kind of laugh she used at charity luncheons when someone complimented her jewelry.
"Still so dramatic, Claire."
I gripped the phone.
"You photographed my children."
"I wouldn't know anything about that."
"Then why are you calling?"
"Because Alexander is making a terrible mistake."
I looked at the photograph again.
Oliver was wearing the green truck shirt from his visit with Alexander.
Lily was holding Emma's hand.
Someone had been close enough to identify them.
"What do you want?"
Sophia sighed.
"You had a beautiful opportunity three years ago. A clean divorce. A generous settlement. Freedom."
"I returned the money."
"Yes. Such a noble little performance."
I felt anger rise through my fear.
"Don't contact me again."
"Listen carefully, Claire. Alexander doesn't understand what you're doing. He sees two children who look like him, and suddenly he imagines some touching family reunion."
"They are his children."
"Children can complicate very expensive arrangements."
There it was.
Not jealousy.
Not simply the desire to reclaim a man.
Money.
Power.
Control.
"What arrangements?"
"Stay away from the Moretti family, and you won't need to know."
The call ended.
I immediately called Naomi.
She told me not to delete anything or respond to further contact.
We preserved the photograph, envelope, call record, and security-camera footage from outside the shop.
Then we reported the threat to the police.
I also contacted the daycare director.
No one would be allowed to collect my children except the adults I had specifically authorized.
That evening, Emma stayed with us.
She installed an extra lock on the back door while I sat on the floor between Oliver and Lily.
Lily was drawing circles on a piece of paper.
Oliver was trying to convince her that every circle was a wheel.
They had no idea someone had been watching them.
That innocence terrified me.
For three years, I had kept Alexander's world away from them.
Now it was reaching into our home.
At nine o'clock, Naomi called.
"Claire, I need to tell you something. I've spoken with an attorney representing a former employee of Lakefront Reproductive Medicine."
My heart jumped.
"Who?"
"Her name is Evelyn Brooks. She was the laboratory supervisor during your final years of treatment."
I remembered Evelyn.
A quiet woman with graying hair who used to give me warm blankets after procedures.
She had once held my hand when I woke from anesthesia and found myself crying.
"Why does she want to speak to us?"
"She says she has information about your embryos."
I closed my eyes.
"Are they gone?"
Naomi paused.
"She says the destruction authorization was never properly executed."
I sat upright.
"What does that mean?"
"It means there may still be embryos in storage."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
I looked down at my sleeping children.
Two living miracles.
And somewhere, possibly, six tiny beginnings I had spent years grieving.
The next morning, Naomi arranged a confidential meeting in her office.
Evelyn arrived with her attorney.
She looked older than I remembered.
There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and she kept twisting her wedding ring.
When she saw me, her expression crumpled.
"Mrs. Moretti."
"Claire," I corrected.
She nodded.
"I'm so sorry."
I sat across from her.
"Please tell me what happened."
Evelyn took a breath.
"Your first treatments were legitimate. You experienced real complications, and some early cycles failed. No one invented those difficulties."
I nodded slowly.
I needed that distinction.
I needed to know which parts of my memories were real.
"But during a later retrieval cycle," she continued, "we obtained six embryos that met the laboratory's criteria for freezing."
"Six."
"Yes."
"Dr. Mercer told me none had survived."
Evelyn looked down.
"I know."
My hands began trembling.
"Why?"
"Because your husband had instructed Mercer to suspend any transfer without further approval. Dr. Mercer should have informed you and refused to proceed under those conditions. Instead, he concealed the decision from you."
I felt sick.
"Did Alexander know there were six embryos?"
"I can't say what he was told. I can only tell you what was documented."
She opened a folder.
"Several months later, an outside management representative contacted the clinic about closing your case. The representative was working through Sterling Medical Management."
"Sophia Reynolds?"
Evelyn hesitated.
"I saw Ms. Reynolds meet privately with Mercer more than once."
I leaned forward.
"Did she sign my name?"
"I never witnessed anyone signing the document. But I raised concerns because the authorization appeared without the consent procedure we were required to follow."
"What happened?"
"I was told the decision had already been approved."
"And you believed that?"
"No."
Her eyes filled.
"I should have done more. I reported the discrepancies internally. After that, I was removed from your case."
She reached into her folder again.
"Before I left the clinic, I copied certain records because I was afraid they would disappear."
Naomi exchanged a glance with Evelyn's attorney.
"Those records will need to be handled carefully. We don't want to compromise any investigation or your client's protections."
Evelyn nodded.
"I understand."
Then she looked at me.
"The embryos were transferred to a long-term storage facility under a coded account."
My breath caught.
"Are they still there?"
"I have reason to believe so. But I cannot confirm their present status without the facility's records."
I covered my mouth.
For years, I had mourned children I thought I would never have.
I didn't know whether I would ever want to use those embryos.
I wasn't even sure I could bear another pregnancy.
But someone had taken away my ability to decide.
That was the cruelty I could never forget.
"They belong to my medical history," I whispered. "They were part of my body, my treatment, my hope. And nobody thought I deserved to know."
Evelyn began crying.
"I'm sorry, Claire."
I looked at her.
"Why come forward now?"
She wiped her eyes.
"Because when I saw your photograph with those two children, I realized you had become a mother despite everything they did. And I couldn't live with being silent anymore."
"Did you send the anonymous envelope?"
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
"My attorney didn't know at the time. I was frightened. I handled it badly."
Naomi leaned forward.
"From now on, all evidence will go through counsel. We need to protect everyone involved and obtain the original records."
Evelyn agreed.
Before leaving, she gave me one final piece of information.
"Sterling Medical Management wasn't a medical organization in the usual sense."
"What was it?"
"A company used to move money between businesses."
"Whose businesses?"
She looked at me.
"Miles Reynolds had financial connections to it."
The room went silent.
Sophia's father.
Alexander's trusted executive.
The man who had congratulated me after every failed pregnancy test with empty reassurances about how some couples were simply meant for other things.
By the time I returned home, Alexander was waiting for Naomi's permission to speak with me.
He had received an update through the attorneys.
We met in the empty counseling office.
I placed the medical records on the table.
"Did you know?"
He looked at the report.
His face lost its color.
"Six?"
"Six viable embryos."
He stared at the paper.
"I was told the clinic had stopped all transfer procedures."
"Did you ask what happened to the embryos?"
His silence answered me.
I felt tears gathering.
"You didn't even ask."
"Claire—"
"You made a decision about my future, and you didn't care enough to ask what it cost me."
Alexander covered his face.
For a moment, I thought he might cry.
Then he lowered his hands.
"You're right."
I almost hated how quietly he said it.
"I can't take back what I did. I can't blame Sophia or Miles for the part that was mine."
He looked directly at me.
"I authorized the suspension. I knew you didn't agree. I let the clinic lie to you because the truth would have forced me to face what kind of husband I was becoming."
I felt a tear slide down my cheek.
"You were becoming the kind of man who hurt me while pretending to comfort me."
Alexander bowed his head.
"Yes."
There was no excuse left.
And somehow that made his remorse more believable.
He pushed a folder across the table.
"My independent forensic accountants have identified several suspicious transfers connected to Miles Reynolds."
I didn't touch it.
"Naomi will need copies."
"She already has them."
"What are you going to do?"
"Cooperate with the investigation. Even if it exposes my own instructions to Mercer."
I studied him.
"And Sophia?"
"She no longer has access to my businesses. Miles has been suspended pending the investigation."
I laughed bitterly.
"You think she'll simply accept that?"
"No."
He looked toward the window.
"That's what worries me."
At that moment, his phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
"What?" I asked.
Alexander showed me the message.
It was from Sophia.
You always said family was your greatest weakness. Now everyone knows exactly where yours lives.
Below the message was a photograph of my shop.
Taken that afternoon.
I stood up so quickly my chair struck the wall.
"My children are there."
Alexander was already reaching for his coat.
"Claire, stay with Naomi. I'll call the police and have them check the address."
"No."
He turned.
"I'm going to my children."
"Then I'm coming with you."
We drove in separate cars.
I called Emma on the way.
She answered breathlessly.
"Claire, I'm at the shop."
"Lock the doors."
"What happened?"
"Just do it."
I could hear Lily laughing in the background.
Oliver was asking for juice.
They were safe.
At least for that moment.
When I reached the shop, police were already speaking with Emma.
Alexander arrived seconds later.
We searched every room.
Checked the back entrance.
Reviewed the cameras.
Nothing was missing.
But on the kitchen counter, beside a vase of white peonies, someone had left an envelope.
Emma swore she hadn't seen anyone enter.
The back-door camera had been disabled earlier that afternoon, and the repairman had not yet arrived.
My hands shook as I opened the envelope in front of the officers.
Inside was a copy of a contract.
At the top was the name of a Moretti family trust.
Several pages had been highlighted.
One paragraph contained a provision concerning future descendants and the distribution of certain family-controlled assets.
Then I saw the signatures.
Alexander Moretti.
Miles Reynolds.
And an attached memorandum bearing Sophia Reynolds's initials.
I turned to Alexander.
"What is this?"
He read the page.
His expression became frighteningly still.
"It's an old family trust amendment."
"Why would Sophia send it to me?"
He looked at our children playing across the room.
Then he looked back at the document.
"Because the existence of Oliver and Lily may affect who controls a very large part of the family estate."
I stared at him.
"How large?"
May you like
Alexander swallowed.
"More than two billion dollars."
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