Chapter 2
I stared at Patricia Mitchell.
For eleven years, I had imagined what I would say if I ever saw my former mother-in-law again.
I had imagined anger.
Accusations.
Maybe even forgiveness.
But I had never imagined her standing in front of hundreds of wedding guests, holding an envelope that appeared to contain another piece of my stolen past.
“What papers?” I asked.
Patricia's hands trembled.
Adrian stepped toward her.
“Mother, sit down.”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Please.”
“I've been quiet long enough.”
Vanessa looked between them.
“What is happening?”
Nobody answered.
I reached for Isaiah's hand.
The children had already seen more than I wanted.
I turned toward my closest friend, Danielle, who had entered behind us.
“Can you take them outside?”
Isaiah looked worried.
“Mom?”
I knelt in front of him.
“You did nothing wrong, baby. But the grown-ups need to talk.”
He studied my face.
“Are you okay?”
I swallowed.
“I will be.”
Danielle took all three children to a private sitting room near the ballroom.
I watched them disappear through the doorway.
Only then did I turn back.
“Now tell me.”
Patricia opened her envelope.
Inside were old medical records, handwritten notes, and copies of correspondence.
She handed me a document.
I recognized the hospital letterhead.
It belonged to Brookside Fertility Center, where Adrian and I had undergone testing during our marriage.
My heart began pounding.
I remembered those appointments.
The waiting rooms.
The whispered prayers.
The tests that left me exhausted and frightened.
I remembered being told that the results were inconclusive.
Then Adrian suddenly announced that the doctors had determined I couldn't conceive.
He refused to show me the complete report.
When I called the clinic, I was told to arrange a follow-up appointment.
Adrian insisted there was no point.
I had been too devastated to question him further.
Now I was looking at a letter I had never received.
It was addressed to me.
I began reading.
The specialist had recommended additional evaluation because my preliminary results showed no clear cause of infertility.
I stopped.
No clear cause.
Not proof that I could never have children.
Not a diagnosis ending my hope of motherhood.
I looked at Adrian.
“You told me the doctor said I was infertile.”
He stared at the floor.
I continued reading.
The letter also said Adrian had declined a recommended follow-up discussion of his own test results.
My hands began shaking.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
He looked up.
“Serena, it was complicated.”
“Complicated?”
I held up the letter.
“You let me believe something was wrong with my body!”
Vanessa was crying now.
She turned toward Adrian.
“Were you infertile?”
He didn't answer.
I opened the newer medical report.
The specialist had reviewed archived records after I requested an independent assessment.
According to the findings, Adrian's tests from our marriage showed severely impaired sperm production.
My results did not establish infertility.
The physician's letter explained that I had been given inaccurate information about the meaning of the testing.
I looked at Adrian.
“You knew.”
He whispered, “I was scared.”
The words hit me like a slap.
“Scared?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I thought you'd leave me.”
I laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
“So you left me first?”
He looked away.
I felt eleven years of shame rising inside me.
“You made me believe I wasn't enough.”
“Serena—”
“You told your parents I couldn't give you children!”
Patricia began crying.
I turned toward her.
“And you believed him?”
She shook her head.
“Not completely.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
She looked toward her son.
“Adrian told me the doctor had discovered a problem with him.”
The ballroom seemed to tilt.
I gripped the edge of a chair.
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
I could barely breathe.
“You knew?”
Patricia wiped her face.
“I knew he had received troubling results. I didn't know every detail.”
“But you knew he was lying about me.”
She nodded.
My voice broke.
“And you let me leave thinking I was worthless.”
She began sobbing.
“I'm sorry.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I stood completely still.
Because I remembered Patricia embracing me after the divorce.
She had whispered that sometimes God didn't give women everything they wanted.
I remembered how ashamed I felt.
And now I realized she had been protecting her son.
Vanessa stepped away from the altar.
“I need someone to explain the signature.”
I looked down at the third page.
The forged authorization.
It concerned the release and handling of medical information.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
But I had never signed it.
Patricia looked frightened.
“Adrian arranged that.”
I turned toward him.
“What did you authorize?”
He shook his head.
“It wasn't supposed to hurt anyone.”
I stepped closer.
“What did you do with my medical records?”
He whispered, “I had the clinic send the results to me.”
“Using my name?”
He nodded.
My stomach turned.
“You impersonated me?”
“I panicked.”
“You forged my signature!”
Guests began whispering.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Adrian looked toward the doors.
I knew that look.
He wanted to run.
But I wasn't finished.
“Why did you lie about the infertility?”
His face hardened.
“Because everyone expected me to have children.”
I stared at him.
“My father expected grandchildren. My mother talked about carrying on the family name. Everybody kept asking.”
“So you blamed me?”
His silence answered.
Vanessa whispered, “You told me Serena didn't want children.”
I turned sharply.
“What?”
She looked at me.
“He said you refused to start a family. He said you cared more about your career.”
I closed my eyes.
He had rewritten our marriage.
He had turned my grief into selfishness.
I opened my eyes again.
“And what did he tell you about his own fertility?”
Vanessa shook her head.
“Nothing.”
I looked at the white gown.
The flowers.
The wedding guests.
I suddenly realized Vanessa was standing exactly where I had stood eleven years earlier.
In love with a man who had hidden something fundamental about himself.
I felt anger.
But I also felt pity.
“Vanessa, you deserve the truth.”
She stared at Adrian.
“Is there anything else?”
He looked toward Patricia.
“Mom, help me.”
She shook her head.
“No more.”
Vanessa removed her engagement ring.
Her hands trembled.
But before she could speak, Adrian grabbed her wrist.
“Don't throw away our future because of my past!”
I stepped forward.
“Let her go.”
He released her.
Then he looked at my children.
His expression changed.
“Serena, wait.”
I felt dread.
“What?”
He pointed toward the hallway.
“Those children.”
I narrowed my eyes.
“What about them?”
He swallowed.
“You said the doctor finally discovered who was infertile.”
“Yes.”
He looked frightened.
“Then how did you have three children?”
I stared at him.
I had expected that question.
But not the way he asked it.
Not with suspicion.
Not as though my children were evidence against me.
I took a breath.
“Because I was never the problem.”
His eyes widened.
Then he whispered, “Who is their father?”
I stepped closer.
“That is none of your business.”
He looked toward Vanessa.
Then back at me.
“Serena, I need to know something.”
My stomach tightened.
He lowered his voice.
“Did you use the embryos?”
I froze.
“What embryos?”
Adrian's face went white.
Patricia covered her mouth.
And I realized there was another secret.
A secret hidden beneath the forged records.
A secret involving something Adrian had never told me existed.
I stared into his eyes.
“Adrian, what embryos are you talking about?”
He whispered, “The ones we made before the divorce.”
I couldn't move.
May you like
Because as far as I knew, Adrian and I had never created embryos.
And if he was telling the truth, somebody had been hiding far more than a medical diagnosis.
