Chapter 3 - THE MISSING EMBRYO
Evergreen Reproductive Institute opened at eight.
Arthur had a lawyer waiting at 7:45.
Not Dean Harrow.
A woman named Rebecca Sloan who specialized in medical and fiduciary litigation.
Marcus was not invited.
He had slept at a hotel after Arthur ordered him out.
I barely slept at all.
Noah woke at 12:40.
Liam at 1:25.
Then again at three.
By sunrise, I had fed two babies and imagined fifty different ways my marriage might have been turned into something I no longer recognized.
At the clinic, the compliance director met us immediately.
Her name was Dr. Nina Patel.
She looked terrified.
That was not reassuring.
Rebecca placed the embryo records on the table.
“My client is entitled to her complete file.”
Dr. Patel nodded.
“We know.”
“Then explain the discrepancy.”
A second employee entered carrying a sealed folder.
Dr. Patel opened it.
My first cycle had produced eight embryos considered viable enough for storage.
Two were transferred unsuccessfully.
Four remained.
Two eventually became Noah and Liam during the next cycle.
That should have left two.
Not three.
I stared.
“Wait.”
Marcus had lied in the opposite direction.
There weren't four after Noah and Liam.
There should be two.
Dr. Patel continued.
“Our current inventory shows one embryo.”
My mouth went dry.
“So one is still missing.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
She looked ashamed.
“Eleven months ago.”
I stopped breathing.
Almost exactly when Rachel's first pregnancy would have begun.
Rebecca asked:
“Who authorized release?”
Dr. Patel slid over a form.
My signature.
Except it wasn't.
Close.
Very close.
But not mine.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Forgery.”
“Yes.”
Marcus's signature appeared too.
That one was real.
The form authorized transfer of one embryo to a “gestational carrier program.”
Carrier identity protected.
My hands began shaking.
“You transferred my embryo into another woman.”
Dr. Patel spoke carefully.
“According to the file, you had consented.”
“I did not.”
Rebecca asked:
“Who processed the order?”
A nurse coordinator named Cynthia Wells.
No longer employed.
She had resigned eight months earlier.
And the financial guarantor for the carrier program?
Marcus Vance.
I cried.
Not loudly.
I just couldn't stop.
Arthur stood beside me.
His face had gone gray.
“My son did this.”
Rebecca corrected him.
“Potentially.”
I appreciated her precision.
Then Dr. Patel said:
“There is another issue.”
Of course there was.
The embryo's genetic identification number was partially overwritten in the electronic system.
Someone had attempted to erase the chain of custody.
“Can you still identify it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Original laboratory logs.”
She opened another report.
The missing embryo was genetically mine.
But not Marcus's.
I stared at the page.
“What?”
Dr. Patel looked uncomfortable.
“Mrs. Vance, your first IVF cycle used donor sperm.”
The world went silent.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Your file contains consent.”
I stood so quickly the chair fell.
“No.”
Arthur caught it.
“We never used donor sperm.”
Dr. Patel turned toward Rebecca.
“I think we need to stop.”
“No,” I said.
“Mrs. Vance—”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“Tell me.”
The clinic's archived genetic testing showed the first cycle embryos had not been created with Marcus's sperm.
The second cycle—the one that produced Noah and Liam—had.
Someone had substituted donor material during our first cycle.
I remembered Marcus saying his sample had “quality issues” that day.
I remembered him telling me not to worry.
I trusted him.
Rebecca asked:
“Whose donor sample?”
Dr. Patel's expression changed.
“It wasn't anonymous.”
Arthur stared.
“Who?”
She looked at him.
“According to the accession record…”
Her voice dropped.
“Evan Vance.”
Arthur's face emptied.
I knew that name.
Marcus's younger brother.
Dead three years.
A Marine helicopter pilot killed during a training accident.
Arthur sat down.
“No.”
Dr. Patel continued.
“Evan Vance had cryopreserved sperm here before deployment.”
Arthur covered his mouth.
Marcus had used his dead brother's stored genetic material to create embryos with me.
Without my consent.
One of those embryos had then been transferred to another woman.
Rachel.
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
No one could answer.
Then Rebecca asked the most important question.
“Who was legally authorized to access Evan Vance's sample?”
Dr. Patel checked.
“Evan himself.”
“Anyone else?”
“A secondary medical power holder.”
“Name?”
Dr. Patel looked at Arthur.
“Marcus Vance.”
Arthur stood.
He looked twenty years older.
“My son used his brother's genetic material.”
Rebecca asked:
“Was Evan married?”
“No.”
“Children?”
Arthur closed his eyes.
“No.”
I understood something before he did.
The Vance family trust.
Beneficiary rights followed descendants.
If Evan had a biological child…
That child would inherit a branch of the trust.
Rachel's first pregnancy hadn't simply been an affair.
It might have been an attempt to manufacture an heir.
And if Rachel was pregnant again—
May you like
we needed to know whose child she was carrying.
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