Chapter 3: The Name on the Medical Report
I looked at Noah.
He was standing completely still.
“What is Parker Genetic Services?””
He didn't answer immediately.
Madison looked between us.
“Do you know what that is?””
Noah picked up the document.
“It's a company.””
“What kind of company?””
“Genetic testing and reproductive laboratory services.””
I frowned.
“Why is your name on it?””
He placed the paper on the coffee table.
“My father founded it.””
I stared at him.
“Your father?””
“Robert Parker.””
I remembered the name.
Robert Parker had been a respected physician and genetic researcher. He had died six years earlier, leaving Noah and his sister a substantial estate.
But I hadn't known anything about his professional business.
“Did your father work with Westlake?””
Noah nodded.
“Years ago. Before he retired.””
Madison leaned forward.
“Could he have been involved in my treatment?””
“No.””
Noah's answer was immediate.
“My father died before your pregnancy.””
He examined the document again.
“But his company was sold to a medical investment group four years ago.””
“Who owns it now?”” I asked.
“Whitmore Holdings.””
The room went silent.
I looked at Madison.
Then at Noah.
“Grant's company?””
“Partially,” Noah answered.
He pulled a chair toward the table and sat down.
“Claire, there's something you should know about your former husband's business.””
“I know about Whitmore Luxe.””
“That's the luxury division. The holding company owns several medical investments.””
I stared at him.
“Why didn't I know about this?””
“Because the medical division is private. It doesn't appear in the public company reports.””
I remembered the corporate board meetings I had attended as Grant's wife.
The endless presentations.
The investment summaries.
The projects Evelyn described as boring financial details.
I had never questioned them.
I had been too busy trying to survive another round of fertility treatment.
Noah opened his laptop.
“Give me a few minutes.””
While he worked, Madison sat quietly with her hands resting on her stomach.
I studied her face.
“Does Grant know you're here?””
“No.””
“Does he know about the donor discrepancy?””
“No.””
“Why didn't you tell him?””
She gave a small, bitter smile.
“Because he doesn't listen to me anymore.””
I looked away.
That answer was almost funny.
Almost.
An hour later, Noah found something.
He turned his laptop toward us.
A corporate filing showed that Whitmore Holdings had acquired Parker Genetic Services four years earlier.
The acquisition had been approved by a board committee.
The committee chair was Evelyn Whitmore.
But the name beneath hers made me lean closer.
*Grant Whitmore — Executive Director.*
“Grant was involved?”” I asked.
Noah nodded.
“Apparently.””
“Could he have known about the embryo records?””
“That's what we need to establish.””
He opened another document.
It was a payment record.
Several transfers had been made from Whitmore Holdings to Westlake Reproductive Center.
The first was dated eleven months before Madison became pregnant.
The second was dated two months later.
The third was dated shortly after my third embryo transfer.
I stared at the amounts.
Each payment was substantial.
But the fourth payment was different.
It was marked:
*CONFIDENTIAL PATIENT REASSIGNMENT — $2,400,000.*
I felt sick.
“Two million four hundred thousand dollars?””
Noah nodded.
“That's not a routine fertility bill.””
Madison began shaking.
“Maybe they paid for the twins.””
“Possibly,” Noah said.
“But the payment was made before you were pregnant.””
He enlarged the document.
The recipient was a medical consulting firm.
Its registered director was Evelyn Whitmore.
I stood and walked toward the window.
Outside, the Pacific Ocean stretched beneath the afternoon sunlight.
I thought about my third transfer.
The sterile room.
The cold examination table.
Grant holding my hand while the doctor explained the procedure.
He had kissed my forehead and whispered, “This time, we'll get our miracle.””
Two weeks later, he had received a call from Evelyn.
I remembered his expression changing.
I had asked what was wrong.
He had said it was business.
Then he had left the room.
Now, sitting in Noah's house, I wondered whether that phone call had been about my embryo.
A knock sounded at the front door.
Noah stood.
“I'll get it.””
A moment later, I heard a familiar voice.
“Where is she?””
Grant.
My body went rigid.
Noah returned with him.
Grant looked terrible.
His suit was wrinkled. His tie was missing. His eyes were bloodshot.
He stopped when he saw me.
“Claire.””
I didn't move.
He took one step forward.
“Thank God.””
“Don't.””
He froze.
“I've been trying to reach you.””
“I noticed.””
“Please, just listen.””
“No.””
His eyes moved toward Madison.
“What is she doing here?””
Madison stood.
“Maybe you should ask your mother.””
Grant frowned.
“What?””
I picked up the laboratory report.
“Did you know your mother was paying a fertility clinic to manipulate patient records?””
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?””
“From Madison.””
He looked at her.
“Madison, what have you done?””
She laughed through her tears.
“What have I done? You told me those children were yours!””
“They are.””
“Then explain why the donor number doesn't match your medical file.””
Grant glanced at the report.
His jaw tightened.
“That's confidential medical information.””
I almost couldn't believe him.
“That's your response?””
“Claire, this is complicated.””
“Then simplify it.””
He looked at me.
For a moment, I saw the man I had married.
The man who had held my hand during our wedding vows.
The man who had promised that we would build a family together.
Then he said:
“My mother handled the fertility arrangements.””
Madison shook her head.
“You knew about the donor.””
“I knew she was working with the clinic.””
“Who is the father?””
Grant looked at the paper.
“I don't know.””
“Liar!””
Her voice broke.
Grant rubbed his forehead.
“Madison, you need to calm down.””
“Stop telling me to calm down!””
She grabbed the back of a chair.
“You gave me a diamond brooch stolen from your wife. You promised me a house. You told me our children would inherit the company. And now you're telling me you don't know who their father is?””
Grant's expression hardened.
“Watch your tone.””
I stepped between them.
“Don't speak to her that way.””
He turned toward me.
“Claire, please. I need to talk to you alone.””
“You had eleven years.””
“I didn't know about the pregnancy.””
“You didn't ask.””
His face crumpled.
“I know.””
“No, you don't.””
I walked to the coffee table and picked up the ultrasound photograph I had placed there earlier.
I held it out.
“Look.””
He stared at it.
His lips parted.
“What is this?””
“Our child.””
Grant took the photograph with trembling fingers.
“Claire…”
“Eight weeks.””
He looked at the tiny image.
Then at me.
“You were pregnant?””
“Yes.””
“When?””
“During our third transfer.””
His breathing changed.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
I stared at him.
“You want to know why?””
He nodded.
“Because when I called you from the hospital, you told me not to be dramatic.””
His eyes filled.
“I didn't know.””
“You didn't ask.””
He looked down again.
“Was there a heartbeat?””
I nodded.
For several seconds, he couldn't speak.
Then he sat down.
The photograph shook in his hand.
“I would've come.””
I almost smiled.
“You didn't come when I was bleeding.””
He covered his mouth.
“I thought…”
“You thought I was exaggerating.””
“I was wrong.””
“Yes.””
I took the photograph from him.
“And now you want forgiveness because you finally understand what you did?””
He looked up.
“No.””
“Then what do you want?””
He swallowed.
“To know if we can start over.””
I stared at him.
Behind him, Madison began crying again.
And from the doorway, Noah spoke.
“That's going to be difficult.””
Grant turned.
“Stay out of this, Parker.””
Noah didn't move.
“You should leave.””
Grant's eyes narrowed.
“You have no idea what you're involved in.””
Noah glanced at the report.
“Actually, I think I do.””
Grant suddenly went pale.
His gaze dropped to the company name.
Parker Genetic Services.
Then he looked at Noah.
“Your father was supposed to destroy those records.””
Noah's expression changed.
“What records?””
Grant realized his mistake.
But it was too late.
I stepped forward.
“Which records, Grant?””
He didn't answer.
Then his phone rang.
The caller ID showed Evelyn.
He answered.
“Mother?””
Her voice came through loudly enough for all of us to hear.
“Bring Claire back to New York. Immediately.””
Grant looked at me.
“Mother, we have a problem.””
Evelyn's response was chilling.
“No. You have made a problem. And if you don't fix it, she'll discover what happened to the first embryo.””
The call disconnected.
I looked at Noah.
“What happened to the first embryo?””
Noah didn't answer.
May you like
Because he was already searching for something on his laptop.
And when the results appeared, his face turned white.
