Chapter 3
I didn't understand what Adrian had just said.
Embryos.
The word kept repeating in my head.
For eleven years, I had believed my marriage ended because I couldn't become a mother.
Now my ex-husband was standing in front of his unfinished wedding, claiming we had created embryos together.
I looked at him.
“Explain.”
He swallowed.
“Serena, not here.”
I stepped closer.
“You don't get to choose where the truth comes out anymore.”
Vanessa stood beside me.
Her wedding ring remained in her trembling hand.
“I want to hear this too,” she said.
Adrian looked at his mother.
Patricia shook her head.
“Tell them.”
He closed his eyes.
Then he said something that made my stomach turn.
“We started fertility treatment before the divorce.”
I stared at him.
“No.”
“We did.”
“No, Adrian. We discussed treatment. We never began it.”
He looked away.
I remembered the final appointment at Brookside.
A nurse had taken blood samples.
I had signed consent forms for diagnostic testing.
The doctor had explained several possible next steps.
But we had not agreed to create embryos.
At least, I hadn't.
“What are you saying?” I whispered.
Adrian rubbed his face.
“We had already discussed IVF.”
“Discussing something isn't consent!”
He lowered his head.
My heart pounded.
I looked at Patricia.
“Did you know?”
She began crying again.
“I knew Adrian had spoken to the clinic about preserving embryos.”
My knees weakened.
I caught the back of a chair.
“Preserving what?”
Adrian finally looked at me.
“We used donor sperm.”
I couldn't breathe.
“Who did?”
He swallowed.
“The clinic.”
I stared at him.
“You arranged fertility treatment without telling me?”
He shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
“Then explain exactly!”
My voice echoed through the ballroom.
A few guests were quietly leaving.
Others stood frozen.
I no longer cared who watched.
Adrian spoke rapidly.
“When we were married, you signed forms about possible treatment. I thought we could proceed.”
I remembered the papers.
So many pages.
But I remembered clearly that the specialist said we would need additional consent before any treatment.
I had never undergone an egg retrieval.
There was no way embryos could have been created from my eggs without further procedures.
I said so.
Adrian became silent.
Then Vanessa asked the question I hadn't thought to ask.
“Whose eggs?”
He stared at her.
His silence told me everything.
I felt a wave of nausea.
“Adrian.”
He lowered his eyes.
“Donor eggs.”
I stepped backward.
The embryos were not biologically mine.
He had arranged treatment using donor eggs and donor sperm.
But why?
And why had he mentioned them when he saw my children?
Vanessa whispered, “You made embryos while you were married to Serena?”
He nodded.
“Why?”
“I wanted a family.”
I stared at him.
“You told me I couldn't give you one.”
His voice cracked.
“I thought it was easier.”
“Easier than admitting the truth?”
He looked down.
I felt something inside me finally snap.
I had spent years blaming myself.
Years wondering whether Adrian would have stayed if I had been able to conceive.
I had avoided baby showers.
I had cried in grocery stores when I saw mothers holding newborns.
I had believed my body had betrayed me.
And now I discovered the man who caused that suffering had been planning a family without me.
“Did you ever intend to tell me?” I asked.
He couldn't answer.
Patricia stepped forward.
“Serena, I didn't know he went that far.”
I turned toward her.
“You knew enough.”
She lowered her head.
I looked back at Adrian.
“What happened to those embryos?”
He hesitated.
“They were stored.”
“Where?”
“At Brookside.”
“For eleven years?”
He nodded.
I felt dizzy.
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“Adrian, you told me you had never pursued fertility treatment.”
He reached for her.
“Vanessa, please.”
She stepped away.
“You lied about your entire past.”
He looked desperate.
“I love you.”
She laughed through her tears.
“Do you even understand what love means?”
I turned toward the ballroom manager.
“Is there a private room where we can talk?”
He nodded quickly.
I needed to see my children.
I needed air.
And I needed to get away from the hundreds of eyes watching my pain.
Danielle met me outside the ballroom.
The children were eating cookies at a small table.
When Isaiah saw me, he ran forward.
“Mom!”
I knelt and wrapped my arms around him.
Noah and Amara joined us.
I held all three tightly.
I needed that embrace more than they could know.
“Are we going home?” Noah asked.
“Soon.”
“Was that man mean to you?”
I looked into his worried eyes.
“Yes, sweetheart. A long time ago.”
“Did he say sorry?”
I swallowed.
“Not the way he needs to.”
Isaiah frowned.
“Then why did you go there?”
I kissed his forehead.
“Because sometimes grown-ups need to tell the truth so they can finally move forward.”
He nodded slowly.
I knew he didn't fully understand.
I wished I had handled the confrontation differently.
I had wanted Adrian to face what he did.
But I hadn't wanted my children to carry my pain.
I promised myself that whatever happened next, they would not become weapons in this fight.
Danielle hugged me.
“You okay?”
I shook my head.
“Not even close.”
She guided the children toward our car.
“I'll take them home.”
I hesitated.
“Thank you.”
She squeezed my shoulder.
“Go get your answers.”
I returned to the private room.
Vanessa sat on a sofa.
Her makeup was smudged.
Patricia stood near the window.
Adrian paced.
When he saw me, he stopped.
“Serena.”
I held up my phone.
“I've called my attorney.”
His face tightened.
“Why?”
“Because someone signed medical documents using my identity.”
He looked toward Patricia.
I continued.
“And because I intend to find out exactly what happened at Brookside.”
Adrian sat down.
“Please don't destroy me.”
I stared at him.
“You destroyed yourself.”
My phone vibrated.
It was a message from Dr. Elaine Foster, the reproductive specialist who had reviewed my records.
I had requested an urgent clarification after discovering the old authorization.
Her message was brief.
“Serena, I reviewed the archived documents you sent. Please call me. There is a discrepancy requiring immediate attention.”
My heart began pounding again.
I called.
Dr. Foster answered almost immediately.
“Serena?”
“Yes.”
“I need to ask you something.”
“Go ahead.”
“Were you ever informed that a donor embryo arrangement was listed under your former married name?”
I looked at Adrian.
“No.”
She paused.
“Then we have a serious problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“The records indicate that you were named as an intended parent in an agreement you say you never signed.”
My blood turned cold.
“Can that agreement still be active?”
“I can't determine its legal status. You'll need an attorney. But there's something else.”
I closed my eyes.
“What?”
“The records include a later request concerning the embryos.”
I gripped the phone.
“What request?”
Her voice became careful.
“A request to release them for use by another intended parent.”
I stared at Adrian.
“Who?”
“I can't disclose another patient's information without authorization. But your attorney should obtain the complete records through the proper process.”
The call ended.
I lowered my phone.
Vanessa watched me.
“What happened?”
I looked at Adrian.
“Someone tried to use those embryos.”
His face went pale.
“Serena—”
“Who?”
He said nothing.
Then Vanessa stood.
Her eyes widened.
“Adrian.”
He turned toward her.
She was trembling.
“Last month, you told me we'd start IVF after the wedding.”
He nodded slowly.
She covered her mouth.
“You said everything was already arranged.”
I looked between them.
Vanessa whispered, “Were you planning to use those embryos?”
Adrian didn't answer.
And suddenly I understood why he had been desperate to keep the medical records hidden.
He wasn't simply protecting an old lie.
He was trying to carry it into another marriage.
I stepped toward him.
“Adrian, did you plan to make Vanessa a mother using embryos connected to paperwork bearing my forged signature?”
He covered his face.
Then he whispered, “I just wanted a family.”
Vanessa began crying.
I looked at the man I had once loved.
For the first time, I no longer saw the husband who rejected me.
May you like
I saw someone so terrified of the truth that he had built his entire life around escaping it.
And I knew the only way to stop him was to expose every document he had hidden.
