Chapter 2 - TWO HEARTBEATS
The ambulance carried me to Saint Catherine’s Medical Center.
Dr. Morris rode beside me while a paramedic monitored my blood pressure and the bleeding from a cut along my shoulder.
“Do not tell Grant about the pregnancy,” I whispered.
“He may learn through the investigation.”
“Not from me. Not yet.”
She nodded.
The emergency ultrasound found movement.
A heartbeat.
One hundred fifty-six beats per minute.
I cried when the sound filled the room.
The impact had caused bruising and uterine irritation, but no placental separation was visible. I would remain under observation because pain and bleeding could worsen.
“You were fortunate,” Dr. Morris said.
I knew she meant the baby.
I did not feel fortunate.
Police arrested Grant for assault causing bodily injury and domestic violence. He complained about the mark my nails left on his wrist when I tried to free myself.
The officer documented it.
Victor and Evelyn gave statements claiming I provoked Grant by insulting Kelsey and threatening to destroy their unborn grandson.
Security footage showed otherwise.
The video began before Grant entered.
It captured his announcement, my order to leave, the punch, the applause, and his demand that I sign papers.
The hidden phone captured his whisper more clearly.
Sign the papers tomorrow.
Kelsey left the ballroom before police finished interviewing witnesses.
Her attorney later said she suffered pregnancy-related distress and required medical care.
I asked whether she had been arrested.
“No,” Rebecca said. “Being cruel is not automatically a crime. We need evidence of her role in the documents.”
My father stood beside the hospital window.
“I should have stopped this before tonight.”
“You didn’t know he would hit me.”
“I knew he was trying to force signatures.”
“You knew about the reproductive papers?”
“I knew something was wrong with your clinic records.”
The betrayal arrived from another direction.
“How long?”
“Six weeks.”
“And you said nothing?”
“You were already in Paris reviewing your mother’s estate. I needed facts.”
“You decided that for me.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
Grant and my father used the same sentence differently.
It still placed control above consent.
Rebecca interrupted before we turned on each other.
“The papers require explanation.”
The folder included a parentage acknowledgment, a marital-property transfer, and consent for the Mercer Descendant Trust to recognize Kelsey’s child as a qualifying beneficiary.
My signature appeared on preliminary versions.
I had not signed them.
A notary certificate claimed I acknowledged the documents two days earlier in Paris.
My passport and hotel records could prove I was elsewhere from the Wisconsin notary.
Grant’s attorney arrived before midnight.
He requested my written consent for him to receive medical updates as my husband.
I revoked the authorization.
Then he filed an emergency petition describing me as unstable, violent, and delusional after infertility treatment.
He claimed I attacked him during a public announcement and fell into the gift table.
The security video made that argument difficult.
My hidden pregnancy complicated everything.
If Grant learned I carried a child, the trust papers might change.
I asked Rebecca what the Mercer Descendant Trust actually required.
She closed the folder.
“We need independent counsel for your unborn child before discussing certain provisions.”
“My child is not even born.”
“The trust was written by your mother. She anticipated descendants.”
“What does Kelsey’s pregnancy have to do with it?”
Rebecca looked toward the door.
“We do not know enough yet.”
Then Dr. Morris returned carrying a clinic report.
“Claire, there is another problem.”
She placed two laboratory records side by side.
My fertility file showed that every embryo from my final cycle had been destroyed after genetic failure.
May you like
The clinic’s internal inventory listed one specimen as transferred.
No recipient name appeared.
