Chapter 4: The Woman Who Knew My Daughter's Name
“Is little Emma awake?””
The woman's voice came through the bedroom door again.
I looked down at the baby in my arms.
Emma.
That wasn't the name Vanessa and I had chosen.
We had agreed on Grace Elizabeth Carter months before her birth. Vanessa had even embroidered the name on a blanket in the nursery.
But the woman outside had called her Emma.
And judging by Vanessa's reaction, she knew exactly why.
“Don't open that door,” Vanessa whispered.
I turned toward her.
“Who is she?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“Daniel, please. You have to get the baby out of here.””
Michael moved between us and the door.
“Dr. Harper, what are you doing here?””
There was a brief silence.
Then the woman answered.
“Michael, I know you're inside. This is a private medical matter. I need to speak with Vanessa.””
“Then you should have called first.””
“I did. She hasn't answered.””
I looked at Vanessa.
“You know her?””
Vanessa pressed both hands against her face.
“I told you. She's the doctor from the clinic.””
“Then why is she calling our daughter Emma?””
Vanessa didn't answer.
The baby stirred in my arms.
I adjusted the blanket and moved toward the window. Outside, a dark SUV was parked near the curb.
A man stood beside it, speaking into his phone.
I didn't recognize him.
“Michael,” I said quietly.
“Who's that outside?””
He glanced through the curtains.
His face changed.
“Stay away from the window.””
“What?””
“Daniel, move away from it.””
Before I could ask why, the bedroom door rattled.
Dr. Harper knocked again.
“Vanessa, this is becoming unnecessary. You know we need to resolve the identification issue.””
I stepped toward the door.
“Identification issue?””
“Mr. Carter,” she replied, “I understand you're upset, but there are matters here that require professional attention.””
“Then explain them.””
“I can't discuss confidential patient information in a hallway.””
“I'm standing in the same room as the patient.””
Another pause.
Then she said something that made my stomach tighten.
“Not all of the people in that room are legally recognized as the baby's parents.””
I stared at the door.
Vanessa began crying.
I turned toward her.
“What does she mean?””
Michael walked closer.
“Don't listen to her until you've seen the original records.””
I looked at him.
“You keep telling me there's more to this. I'm running out of patience.””
Michael lowered his voice.
“There's a reason I didn't want Ethan's embryos used. But the sample wasn't the only thing stored at that clinic.””
He opened the folder again.
Behind the genetic report was a document with a faded hospital stamp.
It appeared to be an old consent form.
I recognized Ethan's signature.
Below it was Michael's.
And beneath both names was another signature.
My eyes narrowed.
“Who is Rebecca Cole?””
Michael took the paper from me.
“My mother.””
I looked at Vanessa.
“Why would your mother-in-law be involved in a fertility procedure?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“It's not what you think.””
“Then what is it?””
Michael stared at the document.
“Ethan and I were both tested when he became ill. Our parents wanted to understand the family's genetic history. The clinic collected samples from several relatives.””
He pointed to a handwritten note.
“Dad wanted to make sure that if Ethan couldn't have children, there might still be a way to preserve the family line.””
I frowned.
“Are you saying your parents secretly stored your samples?””
“No. I gave mine voluntarily. I was told it was for genetic research.””
“Did you sign a consent form for reproductive use?””
Michael shook his head.
“Absolutely not.””
The knock came again.
This time, it was harder.
“Vanessa, open the door.””
She flinched.
I moved toward it.
But Michael caught my arm.
“Before you do anything, you need to understand what happened eleven months ago.””
He took another sheet from the folder.
It was an email printed on clinic letterhead.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: EMBRYO IDENTIFICATION DISCREPANCY.*
The email was dated eleven months earlier.
The message stated that an embryo scheduled for transfer had been flagged because its genetic profile did not match the original donor information.
At the bottom was a note:
Transfer may proceed only after independent verification and written authorization from all affected genetic contributors.
I looked at Vanessa.
“Did you see this?””
She shook her head.
“I was told the embryo had passed screening.””
“Who told you?””
“Dr. Harper.””
Michael laughed bitterly.
“Of course she did.””
The door suddenly opened.
Dr. Harper stood there.
She was in her early fifties, wearing a charcoal blazer over a cream blouse. Her hair was tied neatly behind her head.
She looked at the baby first.
Then at Vanessa.
Then at me.
“Daniel Carter,” she said.
“We finally meet.””
I didn't move.
“Who gave you permission to come here?””
“Vanessa contacted me.””
Vanessa looked up.
“No, I didn't.””
Dr. Harper's expression hardened.
“Perhaps you should check your messages.””
She stepped into the room without being invited.
I shifted the baby against my chest.
“Don't come any closer.””
The doctor stopped.
“I'm not here to take anyone's child.””
“Then why did you come?””
“To prevent a situation that could become considerably more complicated.””
I held up the genetic report.
“Did you alter these records?””
Her eyes moved toward the document.
For the first time, her composure cracked.
“Where did you get that?””
“That's not an answer.””
“Those records are confidential.””
“Were they altered?””
She glanced at Michael.
“You shouldn't be here.””
Michael stepped forward.
“You told me the samples were for research.””
Dr. Harper sighed.
“Michael, this is not the time.””
“Then when is it? Six years ago? Eleven months ago? Or after you transferred an embryo using my genetic material without my consent?””
Her face turned pale.
I looked at Michael.
“You're certain?””
He nodded.
“I have the original genetic screening report.””
Dr. Harper placed her bag on the dresser.
“Listen carefully. There was a clerical error in the laboratory. We are investigating it.””
“A clerical error doesn't explain why you altered the records after the transfer request.””
“I did not alter anything.””
“Then why does your name appear on the amendment?””
She said nothing.
I felt the baby move.
Her tiny hand emerged from the blanket.
I looked at her.
Whatever the adults had done, this little girl had done nothing wrong.
“Why did you call her Emma?”” I asked.
Dr. Harper looked at Vanessa.
Vanessa started shaking.
“Because that's the name on the original embryo file,” the doctor said.
I frowned.
“What original file?””
She opened her bag and removed a sealed envelope.
“Before I explain, I need to know whether Vanessa has told you about the first transfer.””
I looked at my wife.
Her face was almost colorless.
“First transfer?”” I repeated.
Dr. Harper placed the envelope on the dresser.
“Eleven months ago, your wife underwent two embryo transfers.””
The room fell silent.
I stared at Vanessa.
“Two?””
She covered her mouth.
Michael stepped backward.
“That isn't possible.””
Dr. Harper continued.
“The first transfer failed according to the initial laboratory report. The second was recorded as successful.””
I looked at the envelope.
“Then why are there two embryos listed?””
“Because the first transfer was never properly closed in the system.””
She paused.
“And because the original embryo's identification number was subsequently attached to the second procedure.””
My mind struggled to follow.
“Are you telling me there were two pregnancies?””
“No,” she said carefully.
“I'm telling you that the records are inconsistent.””
Then she turned toward Vanessa.
“Mrs. Carter, I need you to tell him what happened after the first transfer.””
Vanessa began crying.
“Please don't.””
“It's important.””
“Dr. Harper, please!””
The doctor looked at me.
“Mr. Carter, there is a possibility that your wife was implanted with an embryo that was not the one she originally selected.””
I tightened my arms around the baby.
“Then whose embryo is this?””
Dr. Harper hesitated.
Before she could answer, a phone rang.
It was Michael's.
He checked the screen.
Then his expression turned grim.
“It's the clinic's legal department.””
He answered.
Listened.
And slowly sat down.
“What?””
Another pause.
“Are you absolutely sure?””
He looked at me.
Then at Vanessa.
Finally, he whispered:
“They found the second embryo.””
I felt my blood turn cold.
“Where?””
Michael lowered the phone.
“Another child was born three weeks ago.””
Nobody moved.
He looked directly at Dr. Harper.
“And the records say that baby was genetically connected to the same donor samples.””
Dr. Harper closed her eyes.
Vanessa began sobbing uncontrollably.
I looked down at the little girl in my arms.
If another baby had been born from the same disputed records, then our daughter's identity wasn't the only thing that had been compromised.
May you like
Someone had made a decision that had affected two families.
And I was beginning to suspect that Vanessa knew considerably more than she had admitted.
