Chapter 3
I sat on the edge of my bed holding the secret phone with both hands.
Rebecca entered first.
She took one look at me.
“What happened?”
I turned the screen toward her.
She read the fertility clinic sign.
Then the messages.
Her face changed.
“Hannah.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Did you know your mother knew Cole before you met him?”
“No.”
“Did you ever use that clinic?”
“No.”
I swallowed.
“Not that I know of.”
Cole appeared in the doorway.
He saw the phone.
Everything in his face collapsed.
“Where did you get that?”
I laughed once.
“Your bedside table.”
He stepped inside.
“Give it to me.”
Rebecca immediately moved between us.
“No.”
Cole’s eyes hardened.
“That is my property.”
“And possibly evidence.”
“Hannah stole it.”
“From her bedroom?”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
“Good luck with that argument.”
I stared at Cole.
“What happened at Northstar?”
He said nothing.
“What happened before our wedding?”
“Hannah.”
“What paternity issue?”
His face drained further.
Rebecca glanced at me.
“Sit down.”
I was already sitting.
Cole rubbed his forehead.
“This is not how I wanted you to learn.”
“Learn what?”
No answer.
I screamed:
“What?”
He flinched.
Then finally:
“Your mother introduced me to you.”
I stared.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“We met at Noah’s birthday party.”
“That was arranged.”
My stomach turned.
Noah had invited me because we worked together briefly.
Cole happened to be there.
At least that was the story.
“You planned meeting me?”
“I agreed to meet you.”
“Why?”
He looked ashamed.
“Because Darla asked me.”
I felt detached from my body.
“Why would my mother arrange my husband?”
Rebecca spoke quietly.
“Let him answer.”
Cole sat in a chair across from me.
“Eight years ago, I was having financial problems.”
I almost laughed.
Of course money.
“My construction company hadn’t started yet. I had debt.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“Mitchell introduced me to Darla.”
My mother.
Apparently Mitchell had been involved with a fertility clinic investment.
Northstar was struggling financially.
Darla had put money into it.
“She wasn’t a doctor,” I said.
“No.”
“Then why?”
“Investment.”
I remembered my mother complaining about losing money in some medical business years ago.
I never knew details.
Cole continued.
“Northstar was involved in a lawsuit.”
“For what?”
He looked at Rebecca.
She said:
“Answer.”
“Embryo storage problems.”
My entire body went cold.
“What kind of problems?”
“Records.”
“Whose records?”
He swallowed.
“Yours.”
I stopped breathing.
“I never used Northstar.”
“You did.”
“No.”
“When you were nineteen.”
Memory hit slowly.
At nineteen, I had surgery for severe endometriosis.
Doctors warned fertility could become difficult.
My mother arranged everything because I was terrified.
One specialist offered to freeze eggs before surgery.
I remembered injections.
Appointments.
A retrieval.
Then Darla told me the eggs weren’t viable.
I never thought about it again.
Until now.
“You told me they failed.”
Cole whispered:
“They didn’t.”
The room disappeared.
Rebecca sat beside me.
“What happened to them?”
Cole looked physically sick.
“Some were fertilized.”
I stared.
“With whose sperm?”
Silence.
Then I understood the clinic photograph.
Cole.
Mitchell.
Darla.
“No.”
Cole shook his head quickly.
“Not mine.”
Relief hit for one second.
Then horror replaced it.
“Whose?”
“An anonymous donor.”
I covered my mouth.
Rebecca asked:
“Without Hannah’s consent?”
Cole nodded.
“That’s a crime.”
“I know.”
“Why?”
“Research program.”
“What research?”
“Embryo viability.”
I felt nauseated.
“My mother let them use my eggs?”
Cole whispered:
“She signed forms claiming she had authority.”
“I was nineteen!”
“I know.”
“She had no authority.”
“I know.”
I stood.
“Stop saying you know!”
He fell silent.
My daughter kicked.
I pressed both hands against my belly.
“Why did you know this?”
Cole’s eyes filled.
“Because years later, Northstar’s records resurfaced.”
“When?”
“Before we met.”
There it was.
Darla learned preserved embryos still existed.
Somehow, my mother decided the secret needed controlling.
“How does arranging me with you control anything?”
Cole looked at the floor.
“One embryo was transferred.”
My knees weakened.
Rebecca grabbed me.
“What?”
“Not to Hannah.”
“Then to who?”
Cole’s voice became almost inaudible.
“A surrogate.”
I stared.
“When?”
“Eight years ago.”
“Was there a child?”
He closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
My world split open.
Somewhere, a child had been born from my stolen eggs.
My genetic child.
Before I ever married.
Before I knew.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Boy or girl?”
“Hannah.”
“Boy or girl?”
“A boy.”
I started shaking.
Rebecca wrapped an arm around me.
“Where is he?”
Cole whispered:
“I don’t know.”
“Liar.”
“I swear.”
“Why did Mom introduce you to me?”
“Because she thought I could help if the records ever came out.”
“How?”
“I knew Mitchell.”
“You were part of their circle.”
“Yes.”
“And instead of telling me, you married me.”
His face crumpled.
“I fell in love with you.”
I stared.
“You entered my life because my mother wanted surveillance.”
“No.”
“That is exactly what you said.”
“She wanted someone close to you who knew the situation.”
“Someone who could manage me.”
He did not answer.
I laughed through tears.
“My entire marriage was arranged around a secret medical crime.”
“No.”
“I loved you, Hannah.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Then when were you planning to tell me about my son?”
He looked away.
Never.
That was the answer.
Rebecca asked:
“Why is there a paternity issue involving Hannah’s current pregnancy?”
Cole hesitated again.
I felt my pulse pounding.
“Explain.”
“Darla became worried.”
“About what?”
“That Northstar might have used more genetic material.”
“What does that mean?”
He swallowed.
“Some donor samples and embryo records were mixed.”
My stomach turned.
“How does that affect my daughter?”
“It probably doesn’t.”
“Probably?”
“Your fertility clinic used an outside lab for your IVF cycle.”
Our current pregnancy had required IVF after two years of trying.
Cole’s sperm.
My eggs.
Or so I believed.
The outside lab had purchased Northstar’s old storage assets after it closed.
I felt suddenly dizzy.
“No.”
Rebecca said:
“Hannah, breathe.”
I couldn’t.
“Are you telling me we don’t know if Cole is my baby’s father?”
Cole’s eyes filled.
“We think I am.”
“That is not good enough.”
He stepped toward me.
“I wanted testing.”
“When?”
“After birth.”
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
I covered my belly.
My daughter moved again.
She was real.
Whatever blood ran through her, she was mine.
That grounded me.
Rebecca said:
“We need medical records immediately.”
“Yes.”
“And independent testing.”
“Yes.”
Cole whispered:
“Hannah.”
I looked at him.
“You kissed my mother while both of you were hiding the existence of a child created from my body without my consent.”
He started crying.
When I said it aloud, even he seemed to understand the enormity.
Then the secret phone rang.
Darla.
I answered.
“Hannah?”
I said nothing.
She heard my breathing.
Then:
“You found the phone.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
“Come to Emma’s house.”
“What?”
“Now.”
“Why?”
Darla started crying.
“Because Cole doesn’t know everything.”
I looked at him.
His face changed.
“What does that mean?”
My mother whispered:
“The boy.”
My heart stopped.
“What about him?”
“He isn’t missing.”
I could barely speak.
“Where is he?”
Darla sobbed.
“Hannah, you already know him.”
The room went silent.
I gripped the phone.
“Who?”
My mother whispered a name.
“Eli.”
I almost dropped the phone.
Eli was eight years old.
My mother’s foster son.
The little boy she had brought into our family three years earlier.
The child who called me Aunt Hannah.
The child I had bought birthday presents for.
The child whose dark eyes everyone said looked strangely like mine.
May you like
My genetic son had been standing beside me for three years.
And my mother had known every second.
