Chapter 4
I did not sleep.
By sunrise, I was sitting in Daniel Reese’s office with Nora beside me and Marcus across the table.
Not next to me.
Across.
That small distance felt like a canyon.
Daniel was in his late fifties, neat and tired-looking, with kind eyes that had seen too many rich families rot from the inside.
He placed a stack of papers on the table.
“We need to proceed carefully,” he said.
Marcus’s voice was sharp.
“Tell us plainly.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Lena, after your second miscarriage, did you undergo any fertility preservation process?”
“No.”
“Any egg retrieval?”
“No.”
“Any embryo freezing?”
“No.”
“Any consent forms involving surrogacy?”
My skin went cold.
“No.”
Daniel nodded slowly.
“There is a document in the estate packet that references reproductive material held at Westbridge Fertility Center.”
Marcus gripped the arm of his chair.
“We never went there.”
Daniel said, “Your mother did.”
My stomach rolled.
“She couldn’t. They would need us.”
“They needed signatures,” Daniel said gently. “We are investigating whether those signatures were obtained under false pretenses or forged.”
Marcus stood so fast his chair scraped the floor.
“I’m going to Westbridge.”
Daniel lifted a hand.
“I already requested an emergency meeting. They refused to disclose anything without both spouses present.”
Marcus looked at me.
For a second, all the anger between us disappeared under something bigger.
Fear.
We drove together.
Nora followed in her car.
Marcus kept both hands on the wheel.
I sat in the passenger seat, staring at the road.
We passed the hospital where I had lost our second baby.
I turned my face toward the window.
Marcus noticed.
“I should have been in that room every second,” he said.
“You were getting medicine.”
“I should have come back faster.”
“No,” I whispered. “Don’t do that. Don’t take my guilt and add yours.”
He glanced at me.
“That sounds like something we both need to learn.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
Westbridge Fertility Center stood behind glass doors and trimmed hedges, clean and expensive and cold.
The receptionist smiled until she saw Marcus’s face.
“We have an appointment with Dr. Havel,” he said.
Her fingers moved quickly over the keyboard.
“Yes. Mr. and Mrs. Hart. Please wait.”
Mrs. Hart.
The words hurt.
Because I did not know if I still was one in the way that mattered.
Dr. Havel appeared ten minutes later.
She was composed, professional, and visibly nervous.
“Mr. Hart. Mrs. Hart. Please come in.”
Daniel joined by video call on Marcus’s phone.
Nora waited outside.
Dr. Havel folded her hands on her desk.
“I understand you have concerns.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“No. We have missing consent, forged documents, and my mother’s name all over medical decisions involving my wife. Start there.”
Dr. Havel paled.
“I can only discuss records with verified consent.”
I pulled out my ID.
“Verify me.”
Marcus did the same.
For twenty minutes, we signed forms, answered security questions, and waited while staff moved behind frosted glass.
Every minute felt like a year.
Finally Dr. Havel returned with a file.
Her expression had changed.
Not nervous now.
Alarmed.
“I need to be clear,” she said. “This clinic operates under strict legal consent requirements. What I am seeing here raises serious concerns.”
“Say it,” Marcus demanded.
She looked at me.
“Two embryos were created using genetic material from both of you.”
I stopped breathing.
Marcus whispered, “How?”
“According to the record, samples were collected during medical procedures at Hart Memorial Hospital and transferred here under authorized consent.”
My hands went numb.
Hart Memorial.
The hospital funded by Marcus’s family.
The hospital where Evelyn sat on the board.
I heard my own voice from far away.
“Are they alive?”
Dr. Havel’s face softened.
“They are cryopreserved.”
Alive.
Frozen.
Waiting.
Our babies had not been gone completely.
Someone had taken the possibility of them and locked it away without our knowledge.
I pressed a hand to my mouth.
Marcus reached across the desk before he seemed to remember he was angry.
His hand stopped halfway.
I took it.
He squeezed so hard it hurt.
I welcomed the pain.
“Who has control?” Daniel asked through the phone.
Dr. Havel hesitated.
“The file lists Mrs. Lena Hart and Mr. Marcus Hart as genetic parents.”
“And authorized decision-maker?” Daniel asked.
Dr. Havel looked sick.
“Evelyn Hart, under a power of attorney.”
Marcus stood.
“I never signed that.”
I shook my head.
“Neither did I.”
Dr. Havel closed the folder.
“I am freezing all activity on this file immediately. No transfers, no destruction, no access without court order.”
“Was there scheduled activity?” Daniel asked.
Her silence answered.
Marcus’s voice dropped.
“What was scheduled?”
Dr. Havel inhaled.
“A transfer consultation with a surrogate agency next week.”
The room tilted.
Evelyn had not just hidden our embryos.
She had planned to use them.
My body shook so violently Marcus came around the desk and held my shoulders.
“Lena,” he said. “Look at me.”
I couldn’t.
“She was going to take our child,” I whispered.
Dr. Havel’s eyes glistened.
“I am so sorry.”
Marcus turned to her.
“Who signed the surrogate paperwork?”
Dr. Havel checked the file.
“Evelyn Hart as family trustee.”
Daniel cursed softly through the phone.
I had never heard him curse.
That scared me.
Marcus said, “We need copies of everything.”
Dr. Havel nodded.
“You will have them. I am also notifying our compliance department.”
“And law enforcement,” Daniel said.
“Yes,” she replied. “And law enforcement.”
When we left the clinic, sunlight hit my face.
It felt wrong that the day was so beautiful.
Nora ran to me.
I collapsed against her.
“They’re alive,” I sobbed. “They’re alive.”
Nora cried too.
Marcus stood beside us, one hand over his mouth, staring at nothing.
I reached for him.
He looked at my hand.
Then he took it.
Not as a husband forgiving a wife.
Not yet.
As two parents standing over the same impossible wound.
“We get them back,” he said.
I nodded.
“We get them back.”
His phone rang.
Daniel.
Marcus put it on speaker.
“I just got an alert from the court clerk,” Daniel said. “Evelyn filed an emergency petition at 8:04 this morning.”
Marcus’s jaw hardened.
“For what?”
Daniel’s voice was grim.
“To declare you temporarily mentally unfit to manage family assets.”
My blood chilled.
“She’s trying to take control before we can stop her.”
“No,” Daniel said. “She is trying to destroy your credibility before this becomes criminal.”
Marcus looked toward the road.
A black sedan sat across the street.
Its engine was running.
The window lowered.
Evelyn stared at us from the back seat.
Then she lifted her phone and smiled.
A second later, Marcus received a message.
Come home, son. Before your wife ruins what little is left.
He looked at me.
Then at Nora.
Then at the clinic behind us.
His expression changed.
The hurt was still there.
May you like
But now something stronger stood with it.
“No,” he said quietly. “This time, we go to court.”
