Chapter 3
The Secret My Mother-in-Law Buried
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and fear.
At least, that was how it felt to me.
I lay beneath a white blanket while a nurse adjusted the fetal monitor.
The steady sound of my daughter's heartbeat filled the room.
Marcus stood beside the bed.
He hadn't released my hand since the ambulance arrived.
But neither of us had spoken about the envelope.
Not once.
A doctor entered and checked the monitor.
"Your baby looks reassuring at the moment," she said.
I exhaled.
"Am I going into labor?"
"You're having contractions, but we need to monitor you and assess whether they're causing cervical changes."
I nodded.
My hands were still trembling.
The doctor explained that stress and dehydration could sometimes contribute to uterine irritability, but they would not assume the cause without examining me.
After several tests and a period of observation, the contractions began spacing out.
My daughter remained stable.
I finally allowed myself to breathe.
Marcus pulled a chair closer.
"Nia."
I stared at the ceiling.
"Please don't ask me another question right now."
His voice cracked.
"I'm not going to accuse you again."
I turned toward him.
He looked exhausted.
His eyes were red.
"I shouldn't have said what I said."
I swallowed.
"You asked whose baby I was carrying."
He nodded.
"I know."
"In front of everybody."
"I know."
My tears returned.
"You made me feel like I was standing on trial."
Marcus covered his face.
"I'm sorry."
For a moment, I wanted to push him away.
I wanted him to understand how deeply he had hurt me.
But I also remembered the look on his face when he learned someone had used his stored sperm without his knowledge.
We were both frightened.
We had both been lied to.
And somebody wanted us blaming each other.
I squeezed his hand.
"Marcus, there's something you need to see."
I reached for my phone.
Three months earlier, I had received a letter from the fertility clinic.
It arrived shortly after my twenty-week ultrasound.
At first, I thought it was an ordinary billing correction.
Then I opened it.
The clinic's compliance office had identified irregularities in archived consent records.
A sample had been stored under Marcus's name.
The paperwork claimed that he had approved its future use.
But one signature didn't match his verified handwriting.
I had called immediately.
The clinic told me an internal investigation was underway.
They also told me the sample had been used in my treatment.
I had been confused.
Frightened.
And desperate for answers.
Marcus listened without interrupting.
Then I showed him the letter.
His expression darkened.
"Why didn't you bring this to me?"
I swallowed.
"Because your mother came to see me that same afternoon."
He looked up.
"What?"
"She told me you knew everything."
Marcus went still.
"She said the procedure was something you had done during a previous relationship."
I wiped my cheeks.
"She said you were ashamed and had asked her to help arrange fertility treatment."
He stared at me.
"I never said that."
"I know that now."
I pulled another message onto the screen.
Evelyn had written:
Please don't confront Marcus. He's emotionally fragile about this. Let him enjoy becoming a father.
Marcus read it.
His jaw tightened.
"She told you not to tell me?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
He stood abruptly.
I reached for his hand.
"Marcus, please."
He stared toward the door.
"My mother knew."
I said nothing.
He shook his head.
"She knew somebody used my medical records."
I swallowed.
"That's what it looks like."
He began pacing.
"Why would she do that?"
I hesitated.
"Maybe because of Vanessa."
Marcus stopped.
"What?"
I looked toward the monitor.
Our daughter's heartbeat remained steady.
Then I whispered, "Those twins."
Marcus's expression changed.
He sat down slowly.
"Vanessa was my girlfriend six years ago."
I nodded.
"I figured."
"We broke up before I met you."
"Did you know she was pregnant?"
He stared.
"No."
"She says they're yours."
Marcus closed his eyes.
"She told me last year."
My chest tightened.
"You knew about them last year?"
He nodded.
"But I didn't believe her."
I pulled my hand away.
"Marcus."
He looked ashamed.
"She contacted me through a lawyer. She said the boys were mine."
"And?"
"I asked for a paternity test."
"What happened?"
He lowered his head.
"She said the tests had already been done."
I stared.
"And you never followed up?"
He swallowed.
"My mother said Vanessa was trying to blackmail me."
The room went silent.
I felt cold.
"Your mother again."
Marcus nodded slowly.
"She told me Vanessa had fabricated the claim."
I stared at him.
"Did you ever speak to the boys?"
He shook his head.
"No."
I felt tears returning.
"Marcus, they're five."
His voice cracked.
"I know."
"Those children didn't deserve to be ignored."
"I know."
I looked away.
I loved my husband.
But I couldn't pretend his choices hadn't hurt anyone.
He had trusted Evelyn because it was easier than facing a painful possibility.
And two little boys might have spent years without their father because of it.
A knock sounded at the door.
Vanessa entered.
She was alone.
Her expression was completely different from the one she wore at the baby shower.
No fury.
No theatrical anger.
Just exhaustion.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
Marcus stood.
"Where are the boys?"
"With my sister."
I looked at her.
"What do you want?"
She glanced toward my belly.
"First, I wanted to make sure your baby was okay."
I nodded.
"She's stable."
Vanessa exhaled.
"Good."
Then she looked at Marcus.
"You need to know something."
He folded his arms.
"I'm listening."
Vanessa removed her phone.
"I didn't come to the shower just to embarrass you."
I stared.
"Then why?"
"Because Evelyn threatened me."
Marcus went still.
"What?"
Vanessa opened a recording.
Her voice played first.
"I'm tired of lying to my children."
Then Evelyn's voice filled the room.
"If you tell Marcus what happened, you'll regret it."
Marcus gripped the back of a chair.
Vanessa continued.
"She paid me to stay quiet."
I felt sick.
"For how long?"
"Four years."
Marcus whispered, "Why?"
Vanessa's eyes filled.
"Because the twins aren't biologically yours."
My mouth fell open.
Marcus stared at her.
"What?"
She swallowed.
"They were conceived through a fertility program."
I looked between them.
Vanessa began crying.
"And the sperm used to conceive them was labeled with your name."
Marcus didn't move.
"But the DNA test I arranged last month showed something impossible."
I whispered, "What?"
Vanessa looked directly at him.
"The boys are not your biological children."
Then she turned toward me.
"And the report says they're genetically related to someone else in your family."
My heart began pounding.
Marcus gripped the chair.
"Who?"
May you like
Vanessa's voice shook.
"Your father."
