Chapter 2 - THE FILE THAT SHOULDN’T EXIST
Rachel drove home alone with Maddie.
Grant stayed behind.
Not because Rachel asked him to.
Because Maddie refused to get in his car.
That was the first consequence.
It wouldn’t be the last.
Maddie sat silently in the back seat holding the paper flower.
Halfway home she asked, “Is Daddy not my daddy anymore?”
Rachel gripped the steering wheel.
There were questions adults could answer.
Then there were questions that showed you exactly how much damage another adult had done.
“He’s still the man who raised you.”
“But he said I’m not his.”
Rachel pulled over.
She climbed into the back seat and wrapped Maddie in her arms.
“You listen to me. None of this is because of you.”
“Did I do something bad?”
“No.”
“Then why doesn’t he want me?”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Because he is weak.
Because he cares too much about what other people think.
Because sometimes grown men hurt children to protect their own egos.
Instead she said, “Daddy said something cruel because he was angry. Adults can be wrong too.”
Maddie sniffled.
“I don’t want him to be wrong.”
Rachel nearly broke.
At home, she put Maddie to bed and sat outside her room until she fell asleep.
Then Rachel opened her laptop.
There were four emails from Riverstone.
The first contained a formal notice.
The second contained a consent form for emergency genetic review.
The third contained scanned copies of her original fertility records.
The fourth contained something strange.
A list of patient identification numbers.
No names.
Twenty-three pregnancies.
Same eighteen-month period.
Possible shared paternal genetic origin.
Rachel read the sentence three times.
Her phone rang.
Grant.
She declined it.
He called again.
She answered.
“What?”
“We need to talk.”
“No. You need to think.”
“Rachel, I didn’t know about the clinic.”
“I know.”
“And what I said tonight—”
“Don’t.”
“I was humiliated.”
Rachel laughed once.
“You were humiliated?”
“You told everyone I’m sterile.”
“You told everyone I slept with another man.”
“I was angry.”
“You rejected your daughter.”
“She’s not biologically—”
Rachel went silent.
Grant stopped.
“That sentence,” Rachel said quietly, “is why you’re sleeping somewhere else tonight.”
“Rachel.”
“I already packed a bag. It’s on the porch.”
“You can’t just throw me out of my own house.”
“Try me.”
He swore.
Then his voice softened.
“What did Riverstone send you?”
Rachel told him.
He went quiet.
“Twenty-three?”
“At least.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No.”
“Our donor profile said he had a ten-family limit.”
“I know.”
“Maybe the clinic mixed samples.”
“Maybe.”
Grant breathed heavily.
“Who’s handling it?”
“Dr. Foster.”
“I want to be on the call.”
Rachel stared at the laptop.
“You gave up the right to demand anything tonight.”
“I signed those papers too.”
“Exactly.”
Silence.
Then Grant said, “Rachel, I’m sorry.”
It sounded rehearsed.
She hated that she could tell.
“I’m not the one you need to say that to.”
Rachel hung up.
Ten minutes later, Dr. Foster called.
Her voice sounded tired.
“Mrs. Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“I’m very sorry.”
“What happened?”
“We don’t know everything yet.”
“Tell me what you do know.”
A long pause.
“We found archived laboratory logs that do not match the donor records entered into the patient database.”
Rachel’s stomach turned.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning someone may have manually overridden donor identification numbers.”
“Someone?”
“We believe so.”
“Who had access?”
Another pause.
“Several people.”
Rachel stood.
“Give me names.”
“I’m not authorized—”
“Dr. Foster, my daughter has twenty-three possible siblings. Someone put the wrong man’s sperm inside my body. I’m past caring what you’re authorized to say.”
Dr. Foster lowered her voice.
“There was one physician who personally handled an unusual number of procedures.”
“Who?”
“Dr. Adrian Vale.”
Rachel frowned.
The name meant nothing to her.
Then Dr. Foster sent a photograph.
Rachel opened it.
A silver-haired man smiled from an old medical conference brochure.
Distinguished.
Confident.
Handsome in a cold sort of way.
Rachel stared at him.
Something about his face bothered her.
Not because she recognized him.
Because she recognized pieces of him.
The shape of the eyes.
The deep line beside the mouth.
The strong bridge of the nose.
She had seen those features somewhere.
Her phone buzzed.
Evelyn had sent her a message.
Rachel, please call me before you do anything with that clinic.
Attached beneath it was an old photograph.
Grant’s mother.
Young.
Pregnant.
May you like
Standing beside a man in a white coat.
Dr. Adrian Vale.
