Dr. Jenkins asked everyone except Jessica to leave the ultrasound room.
Richard objected first.
“This concerns my grandson.”
“It concerns my patient,” the doctor replied.
That ended the argument.
Margaret folded the blue blanket with stiff, deliberate movements. Carter remained beside Jessica until a nurse touched his arm and told him he needed to wait outside too.
According to what I later learned, he leaned close to Jessica before leaving.
“What did they find?”
Jessica whispered, “I don't know.”
Carter stared at her.
Neither believed the other.
That was the first crack.
Outside, Richard demanded an explanation.
Carter told him it was probably an administrative mistake.
Margaret wasn't convinced.
“She said another woman's genetic material.”
“Clinics make errors.”
“Does Jessica have fertility problems?”
“I don't know.”
“You're having a child with her and you don't know?”
Richard cut in.
“Enough.”
He looked at Carter.
“Is that baby yours?”
“Yes.”
“How certain are you?”
Carter didn't answer quickly enough.
Richard's expression hardened.
“Carter.”
“He's mine.”
“Then why do you look terrified?”
Meanwhile, Jessica sat inside with Dr. Jenkins and a nurse.
The doctor explained that an imported fertility record appeared connected to her medical history. Certain fields had been incomplete, which was why the issue had not surfaced earlier.
Jessica insisted there had been a misunderstanding.
Dr. Jenkins asked where the embryo transfer had occurred.
Jessica named Oakfield Fertility Institute.
That changed everything.
The doctor knew Oakfield.
More importantly, the electronic record contained an identifier.
Dr. Jenkins explained that she would need authorization to verify certain details because the pregnancy involved donor or third-party genetic material.
Jessica resisted.
She asked whether verification was medically necessary.
The doctor said it might be.
Eventually, Jessica signed a limited release.
She apparently believed the old record would support the story she intended to tell.
It didn't.
My flight landed in Seattle at 5:58 local time.
Rain streaked across the windows.
Emma woke confused and asked whether we were still flying.
“We landed, sweetheart.”
“Are we in Seattle?”
“Yes.”
“Does Aunt Rachel know?”
“She knows.”
Chloe had already turned on my phone.
“Mom.”
Something in her voice made me look.
My screen filled with notifications.
Missed calls.
Texts.
Voicemails.
Almost all from Carter.
I counted.
Thirty-one calls.
Chloe frowned.
“Why is Dad calling so much?”
“I don't know yet.”
That was technically true.
The last message had arrived three minutes earlier.
CALL ME NOW.
Another followed while I was looking.
LAUREN THIS IS SERIOUS.
I slipped the phone into my coat.
“So am I,” I murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Rachel met us near baggage claim.
The girls ran toward her.
She wrapped both arms around them and looked over their heads at me.
My sister knew me too well.
“What happened?”
“Not here.”
Her smile disappeared.
We collected the luggage.
Outside, Seattle smelled like wet pavement and cold air. Rachel's car was parked in the garage, and she kept conversation light while the girls told her about the flight.
Halfway to her house, Dana called.
I answered immediately.
“I'm in Seattle.”
“Good. Are the girls okay?”
“Yes.”
“Can you talk?”
“Rachel's driving.”
My sister glanced at me.
“She knows everything about the divorce.”
“All right.”
Dana inhaled.
“Oakfield's compliance director contacted me.”
I straightened.
“And?”
“They've found documents associated with the embryo release.”
“Whose signatures?”
“Yours and Carter's.”
My heart began pounding.
“I didn't sign them.”
“I know.”
“Is Carter's signature real?”
“They can't formally authenticate it yet.”
“Dana.”
“It appears consistent with his verified signatures.”
I looked out at the rain.
My daughters were in the back seat.
Emma was describing airplane pretzels to Rachel as if they had been the culinary event of the year.
“What about mine?”
“There are multiple inconsistencies.”
“So it's forged.”
“That is the working assumption.”
I closed my eyes.
“Where did the embryo go?”
Dana was silent.
Rachel looked at me again.
“Tell me.”
“Oakfield's records show it was transferred to a patient.”
“Who?”
“They can't disclose the name to us without additional legal process.”
“Was the transfer successful?”
“We don't have that confirmation from Oakfield.”
“But?”
“Lauren, there's something else.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“The employee who processed the release bypassed standard identity verification.”
“Why?”
“They're investigating.”
“Was Carter there?”
“Unknown.”
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
Dana continued.
“The compliance director believes the transaction may involve an employee or former employee who understood their older record system.”
I opened my eyes.
“Jessica.”
Rachel glanced sharply toward me.
Dana paused.
“What about her?”
“She worked in healthcare administration.”
“Where?”
“I don't remember.”
“Find out.”
I opened my messages.
Carter had called again.
Then another number appeared.
Margaret.
I ignored both.
When we reached Rachel's house, the girls rushed inside.
My sister took their bags upstairs.
I remained in the kitchen with the gray folder spread across the table.
The room smelled like coffee and the tomato soup Rachel had left simmering.
My hands were cold.
I arranged the documents by date.
Embryo storage.
Corporate payments.
The forged destruction letter.
The release date.
Jessica's pregnancy timeline.
Then I found something I'd overlooked.
One payment was not simply labeled as storage.
It included an internal Sterling Corporation cost center.
RHS-17.
Richard Henry Sterling.
Carter's father.
Richard had been financing the embryo.
Secretly.
For years.
I photographed the line and sent it to Dana.
Her response came almost immediately.
Good catch.
I stared at those two words.
Richard had wanted a grandson badly enough to keep an embryo frozen without telling the woman whose genetic material it contained.
Did he know about the transfer?
I didn't know.
Not yet.
My phone rang.
Carter.
This time, I answered.
“What?”
“Lauren.”
His voice sounded different.
The polished certainty was gone.
“Where are you?”
“Seattle.”
“With the girls?”
“Yes.”
He exhaled.
“You need to come back.”
“No.”
“This isn't about us.”
“That's the first true thing you've said today.”
“Something happened at Jessica's appointment.”
I waited.
He seemed to expect me to ask.
I didn't.
Finally he said, “There was an issue with her medical record.”
“What kind of issue?”
“A fertility record.”
I let the silence stretch.
“Lauren?”
“Yes?”
“Do you still have paperwork from Oakfield?”
There it was.
Not: Are the girls safe?
Not: Did they travel well?
Not even: Why Seattle?
Oakfield.
“What paperwork?”
“From our IVF.”
“Why?”
“Just answer me.”
I looked at the gray folder.
“Carter, you told me our remaining embryos were destroyed.”
Silence.
“Do you remember telling me that?”
“Lauren—”
“Yes or no?”
“Yes.”
“And was it true?”
He breathed into the phone.
“It's complicated.”
“No. Frozen embryos are either destroyed or they aren't.”
“Listen to me.”
“Was the male embryo destroyed?”
Another silence.
Longer.
I felt my last uncertainty disappear.
“Where is it, Carter?”
“I need you to come back.”
“Where is our embryo?”
He whispered my name.
“Where?”
His voice dropped.
“I can explain.”
That was not an answer.
It was worse.
Because innocent people usually deny accusations.
Carter was trying to negotiate with one.
I looked toward the doorway.
Chloe stood there.
She had heard enough to know something was wrong.
I lowered my voice.
“You have until tomorrow morning to tell my attorney everything.”
“Don't involve lawyers.”
I almost laughed.
“You forged my consent.”
“I didn't forge anything.”
“But you knew.”
Silence.
“Carter.”
“I knew the embryo wasn't destroyed.”
That confession entered the room quietly.
Nothing shattered.
No thunder sounded.
My former husband simply admitted that a foundational truth of our marriage had been a lie.
“Did you authorize its release?”
“I need to explain in person.”
“Did you?”
He didn't answer.
I ended the call.
Chloe stood in the doorway.
“Mom?”
I looked at my daughter.
Her father's daughter.
My daughter.
A child created in the same laboratory as the embryo everyone was now fighting over.
“Everything's okay,” I said.
She frowned.
“You always say that when everything isn't okay.”
I had no response.
My phone buzzed.
Dana.
She had sent one sentence.
Lauren, I found Jessica's employment history.
Then another.
She worked at Oakfield.
Click here to continue reading: PART 4: Jessica’s Former Job Connected Her to the Missing Embryo, but the Next Record Showed Carter Had Not Been Tricked
Five Minutes After the Judge Ended Our Marriage, Carter Told Me Exactly What Our Daughters Were Worth to Him
Part 3 of 35
