For the first several seconds after Cole spoke, Claire could not make sense of the date.
Three weeks after Lily's transfer.
The Daltons' final embryo had supposedly been lost during thawing three weeks after Megan received an embryo from Claire and Ryan's storage account.
That timing did not prove anything.
Claire knew enough by now to distrust coincidence without worshiping it.
Still, something in her body reacted before reason caught up.
Her hands went cold.
"Who authorized the Dalton thaw?"
Cole looked back at the information on his phone.
"Laura Dalton."
"Did she intend to transfer?"
"Yes."
"And the clinic said the embryo failed?"
"According to the current record."
Claire glanced toward Angela.
"What exactly does 'lost during thawing' mean?"
Angela shook her head.
"We need an embryologist."
Cole was already calling Westbridge.
The next hour happened in fragments.
Dr. Reed joined them remotely.
Then Westbridge's current laboratory director, Dr. Maya Chen.
Chen's manner was precise in a way Claire immediately trusted.
She did not soften technical facts, but she did not dramatize them either.
"If an embryo is reported as nonviable after thaw," she explained, "that ordinarily means it did not survive the warming process sufficiently for transfer."
Claire sat beside Angela in a police conference room while Cole listened from the opposite side.
"Could a mislabeled embryo be mistaken for another embryo during thawing?"
Chen paused.
"Under modern witnessing procedures, it should be extraordinarily difficult."
"Should."
"Correct."
"What about the period we're discussing?"
"Westbridge used electronic witnessing then as well."
Claire looked toward Cole.
"Except somebody had already found a database problem."
Chen's expression tightened.
"I was not employed at Westbridge at that time, so I cannot speak from personal knowledge. I can tell you what the system was designed to prevent."
"Designed," Claire repeated.
Another word that sounded safe until human beings interfered.
Dr. Reed joined in.
"We have now ordered a complete physical inventory and chain-of-custody audit of every embryo record linked to both patient accounts."
"Both meaning mine and Laura Dalton's."
"Yes."
Claire leaned closer.
"Has anyone physically verified my remaining embryo?"
Dr. Reed hesitated.
"Not yet."
Her pulse jumped.
"Why not?"
"Because opening cryogenic storage and manipulating the specimen unnecessarily carries risk. We are first reconciling records."
Claire understood the caution.
She hated it anyway.
"What about the Dalton embryo that supposedly failed?"
Dr. Chen answered.
"There should be embryology photographs and thaw records."
"Should."
"Yes."
"Do they exist?"
Another pause.
"Some records do."
Claire heard what was missing.
"Which don't?"
Chen glanced away from the camera as if checking notes.
"The routine image captured immediately before disposal is absent."
Angela sat forward.
"Is that normal?"
"No."
Claire's stomach turned.
Cole asked, "Who handled the Dalton thaw?"
Dr. Chen gave the name.
"Dr. Stefan Hall was supervising embryologist. The technician on duty was Marissa Vale's sister, Jenna Vale."
Claire looked sharply toward Cole.
"Marissa had a sister working in the lab?"
"Apparently."
Angela whispered, "That's new."
Cole asked Chen, "Is Jenna still employed there?"
"No. She left approximately six months after the events we're discussing."
Claire rubbed her palms against her knees.
Another Vale.
Another employee.
Another person positioned inside the clinic.
"Did Marissa ever tell you about her sister?" Claire asked Cole.
"Not to me."
"Then ask."
He was already writing.
Dr. Reed looked stricken.
"We had no reason to believe the administrative irregularities extended into embryology."
Claire turned toward him.
"You had no reason because the same people who created the irregularities kept hiding them."
Reed accepted that without argument.
By evening, Cole had reached Marissa's attorney.
Marissa agreed to a second interview.
The next morning, she admitted what she had concealed.
Jenna knew about the database discrepancy.
Claire listened as Cole summarized the statement in Angela's office.
"Marissa says she discovered the mismatch because a storage identifier connected to your account returned two conflicting electronic histories."
"When?"
"Four days before Megan's transfer."
Claire's chest tightened.
"Four days."
"Yes."
"What did she do?"
"She checked older migration logs."
"And?"
"She found one identifier that had briefly been attached to the Dalton account during a software migration."
Angela asked, "Briefly meaning what?"
"Nine hours."
Claire frowned.
"Nine hours years earlier?"
"Yes."
"And she believed that created the possibility of a mix-up."
"Correct."
"Did she physically verify the embryo?"
"No."
"Why?"
Cole looked at her.
"Because she didn't have authority to access the laboratory inventory directly."
"But Jenna did."
"Yes."
Claire already knew what came next.
"Marissa asked her sister."
Cole nodded.
"According to Marissa, yes."
Claire closed her eyes.
"What did Jenna say?"
"That the physical cryostorage label matched your account."
Claire exhaled.
"So the remaining embryo is ours."
"Not necessarily."
She opened her eyes.
"Why not?"
"Because Jenna reportedly checked only one straw."
Claire stared at him.
"One."
"Yes."
"There were two embryos."
"Yes."
"So she checked the remaining one or the one they transferred?"
"We don't know."
Claire felt anger rise.
"How can they not know?"
"Marissa says she never asked."
"Of course she didn't."
Angela leaned against the desk.
"Did Jenna know a transfer was scheduled?"
"Yes."
"Did she know consent was questionable?"
"Marissa says no."
Claire no longer trusted any version built on what Marissa claimed someone else knew.
"What does Jenna say?"
Cole's expression darkened.
"We haven't spoken to her."
"Why?"
"She's missing."
Claire stared.
"Missing?"
"Not officially a missing person. We can't locate her at her listed addresses, employment history goes dark eighteen months ago, and her phone is disconnected."
Angela asked, "Last known location?"
"Arizona."
Claire sat back.
Every path produced another person.
Another layer.
Another absence.
"What about Laura Dalton?" she asked.
Cole nodded.
"We contacted her."
Claire's heart quickened.
"And?"
"She's willing to speak."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
Laura requested that Claire attend.
That surprised everyone.
The meeting took place in a private room at Angela's office because Laura refused to return to Westbridge.
She arrived carrying no files.
She looked around Claire's age, perhaps slightly older, with short auburn hair and a posture that suggested she had spent years preparing herself for bad news.
When Claire entered, Laura stood.
Neither woman knew how to greet the other.
A handshake felt absurdly formal.
A hug would have been impossible.
They settled for names.
"I'm Claire."
"Laura."
Then silence.
Laura looked at her for several seconds.
"They told me your daughter might have come from one of my embryos."
Claire's chest tightened at the wording.
Your daughter.
Might have.
"Yes."
Laura folded her hands.
"My husband was Michael."
Claire nodded.
"Cole told me he died."
"Pancreatic cancer."
"I'm sorry."
Laura looked down.
"We did IVF because treatment was going to make him infertile."
Claire immediately understood something she had not expected.
The embryos had been created under a deadline too.
Different reason.
Different grief.
Same glass tanks.
"We had three embryos," Laura said. "Two transfers failed. One remained."
"The one Westbridge says didn't survive thaw."
"Yes."
Laura stared toward the window.
"Michael was alive then."
Claire looked at her.
"Three weeks after Lily's transfer."
"Yes."
"Did you know something was wrong?"
"At the time? No."
Laura took a breath.
"They called me that morning and said the embryo had degenerated during warming. No transfer. Just gone."
Her voice cracked slightly on the final word.
Claire knew that particular violence.
Hope disappearing through a phone call.
"Did they offer an explanation?"
"They said it happens."
Dr. Chen had said the same.
It did happen.
That was what made deception easier.
Real misfortune provided cover for manufactured loss.
Laura reached into her purse.
"I brought this."
A photograph.
Not of an embryo.
Of Michael.
He stood beside a lake holding a fishing rod, smiling toward whoever took the picture.
Claire looked at him.
Brown eyes.
Dark hair.
A narrow dimple on his left cheek.
Her heartbeat changed.
Laura noticed.
"What?"
Claire put the photograph down carefully.
"Lily has a dimple."
Laura did not move.
"So do I."
Claire spoke quickly.
"That means nothing."
"I know."
"It could come from me."
"I know."
Neither woman sounded convinced by their own restraint.
Laura closed her eyes.
"Do you have a photo?"
Claire hesitated.
Then she opened one on her phone.
The yellow overalls.
Lily on the blanket.
Laura looked.
Her face did not transform dramatically.
She simply stopped breathing for a second.
Claire watched carefully.
"She looks like you," Laura said.
Relief and pain arrived together.
"People say that."
"Her eyes aren't Michael's."
Claire almost hated how grateful she felt.
Then Laura enlarged the image.
"What color are they?"
"Gray-blue right now."
"Michael's were brown."
"Ryan's are dark hazel."
Laura handed the phone back.
"We're doing something ridiculous."
Claire nodded.
"Trying to solve genetics by staring at a baby's face."
"Exactly."
They almost smiled.
Then Laura became serious.
"If Lily is yours, I don't want to disturb her life."
Claire felt unexpected gratitude.
"And if she's yours?"
Laura's eyes filled.
"I don't know."
The honesty made Claire trust her.
"I don't know either."
Laura looked at her.
"Would you test?"
Claire had asked herself that question all night.
"If it's medically appropriate and the court allows it."
"She's a baby."
"I know."
"I don't want her treated like evidence."
"Neither do I."
Laura looked relieved.
Claire continued.
"But if there's a real possibility her genetic parents aren't who everyone believes, she deserves accurate medical history."
Laura nodded.
"My husband's family has Lynch syndrome."
Claire sat straighter.
"Hereditary cancer risk?"
"Yes."
That changed the calculus immediately.
This was no longer curiosity.
"Then we need to know."
"Yes."
Angela, who had remained quiet, finally spoke.
"We can ask the court for narrowly tailored genetic testing focused on parentage and relevant medical markers."
Laura nodded.
Claire did too.
Then Laura looked at her.
"If she is mine genetically…"
Claire felt her throat tighten.
Laura's voice shook.
"I'm not asking to take her."
Claire looked directly at her.
"I know."
"I've had twelve hours to think about this, Claire. You've had months of trying to understand how you fit into Lily's life. I don't want to become another person pulling at her."
Claire's eyes filled.
"Thank you."
Laura wiped one cheek.
"But I need to know if Michael has a daughter."
There was no answer Claire could give except the truth.
"I understand."
The emergency testing petition was filed that afternoon.
Ryan objected immediately.
Not because he denied the medical relevance.
Because he did not want Laura involved.
His attorney called the proposed testing "speculative and destabilizing."
Angela read the filing with open contempt.
"He was happy to destabilize everything when it benefited him."
Claire looked toward the stack of records.
"We don't say that in court."
Angela smiled faintly.
"You're learning."
The judge scheduled a hearing for Monday.
Before that could happen, Cole called Sunday morning.
"We found the pre-transfer embryology image."
Claire stood.
"I thought it was missing."
"For the Dalton thaw, yes. This is from Megan's transfer."
Her pulse accelerated.
"What does it show?"
"An embryo labeled with your account number."
Claire exhaled.
"Then Lily is mine."
"Claire."
She stopped.
"What?"
"The account number is yours."
"Right."
"The laboratory identifier isn't."
Claire's chest tightened.
"What do you mean?"
Cole spoke slowly.
"Embryos have multiple tracking fields. The patient-facing label shows Bennett-Parker."
"And the other field?"
"A legacy cryostorage code."
Claire waited.
Cole said, "That code appears in the old Dalton records."
Claire sat down.
"No."
"We haven't confirmed what happened yet."
"Lily could be theirs."
"Possibly."
Claire pressed one hand against her forehead.
Across town, Lily was probably eating breakfast.
Dropping cereal.
Pulling Megan's hair.
Existing without any knowledge that adults were about to argue over the letters and numbers attached to the microscopic beginning of her life.
Claire closed her eyes.
For months she had fought to be recognized as Lily's mother because biology had been used without her consent.
Now biology itself might change.
And she discovered, with terrifying clarity, that the possibility did not make Lily feel any less like her daughter.
Click here to continue reading: PART 18: Genetic Testing Gives Claire an Answer She Feared, but Laura’s Reaction Protects Lily From Becoming the Center of Another Custody War
The Last Person Claire Expected to See at the Fertility Clinic Was the Woman Who Had Celebrated Her Divorce
Part 17 of 35
