Chapter 12 - THE OTHER CHILD
Rachel drove to Evelyn’s house.
Grant was already there.
Walter sat in his study with his head in his hands.
Evelyn handed Rachel the letter.
The paper was yellow with age.
Vale’s handwriting was unmistakable.
Evelyn,
The procedure was successful. There is no need to discuss the variation in sample preparation. Walter’s prognosis made the conventional route unlikely to succeed. I made a clinical judgment.
You will have the family you wanted.
Regarding the earlier cycle, I regret that it did not result in a viable pregnancy.
Do not burden Walter with details he cannot change.
—Adrian
Rachel looked up.
“Earlier cycle?”
Evelyn nodded.
“I had a miscarriage before Grant.”
Grant stared at the letter.
“Was it his too?”
“I don’t know.”
Rachel kept reading.
At the bottom was a handwritten notation in different ink.
Patient E.W.
Cycle 1 — A.V.
Cycle 2 — A.V.
Live birth male.
Grant looked sick.
“So he tried twice.”
Walter whispered, “I saw this.”
Everyone turned.
Evelyn’s face went blank.
“What?”
Walter stood slowly.
“I found the letter years later.”
“When?”
“After Grant was born.”
Evelyn slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Grant flinched.
“You knew?” Evelyn screamed.
Walter touched his cheek.
“I didn’t understand what A.V. meant.”
“You’re a lawyer!”
“I didn’t want to understand!”
Evelyn hit him again.
This time Grant caught her wrist.
“Mom.”
She collapsed against him.
Walter’s eyes filled.
“I thought if Grant was healthy, it didn’t matter.”
Grant stared at his father.
“Everybody keeps saying that.”
Walter looked confused.
“What?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Grant’s voice shook.
“It mattered to Mom. It mattered to Rachel. It mattered to every woman Vale treated like a container.”
Walter sat.
Grant continued.
“And it mattered to me because I had the right to know my own medical history.”
Walter whispered, “I was afraid I’d lose you.”
Grant shook his head.
“You lost me by lying.”
Walter closed his eyes.
Rachel looked back at the file.
There was another notation.
A patient number.
A date.
And beside it, three initials.
M.C.
Rachel frowned.
“Who’s M.C.?”
Nora, who had joined by phone, answered.
“Marianne Cole.”
The woman from the old lawsuit.
Rachel’s skin prickled.
The dates were close.
Very close.
Within months of Grant’s conception.
They requested her sealed case records through the court.
It took three weeks.
When the documents finally arrived, Nora called everyone to her office.
Marianne Cole had claimed Adrian Vale used his own genetic material during her fertility procedure.
Her daughter was born eight months before Grant.
The settlement included a DNA test.
Sealed.
Nora opened the result.
Probability of biological paternity — Adrian Vale: 99.97%.
Grant stared.
“So Vale knew.”
“Yes,” Nora said.
“He knew before I was born.”
“Yes.”
Rachel felt rage rise again.
Vale had not made one impulsive “clinical judgment.”
He had known.
He had already fathered a patient’s child.
Then did it again.
And again.
And again.
Grant whispered, “Where is Marianne’s daughter?”
Nora turned to the next page.
“Her name is Cassandra Cole.”
Rachel froze.
She knew the name.
May you like
Everyone did.
Cassandra Cole was one of the state prosecutors assigned to Adrian Vale’s criminal case.
