Part 3

Ryan arrived twenty minutes later, already angry before he even saw me.

He stormed through the clinic doors in a gray suit, with Megan behind him carrying a diaper bag and wearing sunglasses indoors. Patricia hurried to him at once, whispering quickly, but I watched his expression change as she spoke. First irritation. Then confusion. Then panic.

Megan saw Detective Cole and stopped walking.

That told me enough.

Dr. Reed led us into a conference room. My attorney, Angela Morris, joined by video call because she had been waiting for this moment since the first billing notice appeared. She told Ryan not to speak unless his lawyer was present.

Of course, he spoke anyway.

“You abandoned the embryos,” he said.

Angela’s voice came through the speaker, calm and sharp. “No, Mr. Parker. The consent agreement required both parties’ written approval for any transfer.”

Ryan looked at me. “You never wanted to use them again.”

Something cold moved through my chest. “I said I could not survive another loss right away. That is not the same as giving you permission to hand my embryo to Megan.”

Megan finally removed her sunglasses. Her eyes were red.

“He told me you agreed,” she said.

I almost laughed, but there was nothing left in me that found any of it funny.

“You wore my friendship like a mask for three years,” I said. “Do not pretend you cared about my consent.”

The hardest part was not the betrayal.

It was the child.

Lily was innocent. She had done nothing except exist. Somewhere in Ryan and Megan’s house was a baby girl with my genetics, my late mother’s dimple, possibly my blood type, and maybe even my laugh one day. She had been born from theft, but she was not stolen property. She was a person.

 

That was why I had not gone to the police first.

I had gone to a Attorney.

Angela explained the process clearly. There would be a civil case against Ryan and Megan. There would be a criminal investigation into the forged medical documents. There would be a custody and parentage petition, not because I wanted to tear a baby away from the only home she knew, but because I had the right to be legally recognized and Lily had the right to know the truth.

Patricia cried when she realized what that meant.

Her perfect family story was falling apart.

Ryan might lose his license as a financial advisor. Megan could face charges if she knowingly used forged consent. Patricia could be called as a witness, or worse, investigated for helping them.

But none of that mattered as much as what happened two weeks later.

I met Lily in a supervised visitation room with soft blue walls and a basket of toys. She was nine months old, round-cheeked and serious, staring at me as though she was trying to remember a dream.

I did not touch her at first.

I simply sat on the carpet and let her crawl toward me by herself.

When she reached my hand, she wrapped her tiny fingers around mine.

That was when I cried, quietly, for everything that had been taken and everything that still might be saved.

A year after my divorce, Patricia thought she had found me alone in a clinic.

She thought she had come there to remind me that I had lost.

But when that man walked through the door, the truth walked in with him.

Ryan had not built a new family after leaving me.
He had stolen the last piece of ours.