Chapter 13
I did not tell Ariel.
There was nothing definite to tell.
A replaced video file did not mean the wrong embryo had been transferred. It meant someone had concealed six minutes of laboratory activity on the day she was conceived through transfer.
The possibility was enough to hollow me out.
I watched her sleep that night.
Her hand rested beneath her cheek. Her hair spread over the pillow in dark waves. She looked like herself, which was the only identity that mattered.
Yet fear is rarely respectful.
It began asking questions.
Ariel had Glen’s dimple.
She had my stubborn chin.
Family resemblance was not science, but my mind cataloged each feature as if love could be authenticated through bone structure.
I hated myself for it.
The next morning, I asked Rebecca whether we needed DNA testing.
“Need is the wrong word,” she said. “Testing could answer whether Ariel is genetically related to you and Glen. But it also creates information that cannot be unknown.”
“What would you do?”
“I cannot make that decision for you.”
“Could it help the investigation?”
“Possibly. If there was a historical switch, yes. But law enforcement should explain what they are seeking, and a child specialist should help you consider the emotional consequences.”
I met with Detective Ruiz.
She did not pressure me.
“We can investigate records without testing Ariel immediately,” she said. “Her welfare comes first. If genetic comparison becomes necessary, we can seek an approach that minimizes harm.”
“Would she need to know?”
“Not every laboratory collection requires a child to understand the full allegation. But secrecy has consequences too. You should consult her therapist.”
For once, no one offered an easy answer.
Glen demanded testing.
Through counsel, he argued that establishing Ariel’s genetic identity was essential to rebut speculation and protect his parental rights.
The request enraged me.
He had brought secrecy into our family. Now he wanted Ariel’s body used to stabilize his legal position.
Rebecca opposed immediate court-ordered testing.
The judge declined to decide without additional evidence and input from a guardian ad litem appointed to represent Ariel’s interests.
It was the correct decision.
I still resented needing strangers to protect my child from choices her parents could not agree on.
Meanwhile, the investigation into Blue Heron Patient Services uncovered payments to three former Northlake employees and one data-security contractor.
The amounts ranged from $40,000 to $310,000.
Some payments predated Glen’s surrogacy plan.
Blue Heron was not created for him.
He had stepped into an existing network.
Thomas Wren’s privilege claims began to weaken after prosecutors presented evidence suggesting his company’s account received funds unrelated to legal services. A judge ordered him to produce limited billing records for private review.
Wren then requested immunity before agreeing to an interview.
The prosecutor refused full immunity.
Negotiations continued.
Nadine remained missing, but her abandoned car was found at Charlotte Douglas International Airport. Travel records showed no flight under her name. Security footage captured her entering a shuttle bus wearing a dark wig.
She left the airport six minutes later at a rental-car facility.
Someone had helped her create the appearance of travel.
A warrant was issued for her arrest on charges related to unauthorized access and evidence tampering. The charges did not yet include embryo theft.
News outlets finally published Northlake’s name.
Former patients began contacting attorneys.
Some feared that embryos had been mislabeled. Others reported unusual billing, unexplained record changes, or consent forms they did not remember signing.
Not every concern proved valid.
Panic produced false connections alongside real ones.
Rebecca warned me not to become the public face of every allegation.
“Our facts are serious enough,” she said. “Do not weaken them by adopting claims we cannot verify.”
I gave no interviews.
Glen did.
He appeared outside Bennett Harbor Logistics with Malcolm beside him and told reporters that he had trusted licensed professionals.
“I acknowledge failures in my marriage,” he said. “But I did not knowingly participate in the transfer of stolen reproductive material.”
He did not mention my forged consent.
He did not mention company money.
He presented himself as another victim of Northlake.
That evening, Clara sent me a video file recovered from an old cloud backup.
It was dated the night before the pool party.
The camera faced the ceiling of her apartment. Glen and Clara were speaking nearby, apparently unaware that the phone was recording after a video call ended.
Clara asked, “What if Ariel tells Mara?”
Glen replied, “She won’t understand what she saw.”
“She understands more than you think.”
“Then we say she misunderstood.”
“And the tattoo?”
There was a pause.
“You were supposed to keep it covered.”
“I’m tired of hiding everything.”
“You only need to hide it until the trust confirms standing.”
Clara’s voice sharpened.
“You said Mara would know after the heartbeat.”
“She will.”
“When?”
“When I know the embryo is the right one.”
The recording continued with rustling sounds.
Then Clara asked the question that changed the case.
“What happens if it’s the wrong woman’s?”
May you like
Glen answered quietly.
“Nadine said there is no wrong woman once the records are corrected.”
