Chapter 9
The video did not show him forging my consent.
It showed intent to obtain or manufacture it.
The distinction mattered to police.
It mattered less to me.
A forensic examination found that the file was recorded on Clara’s phone three months earlier and later uploaded to the shared drive. Clara claimed she had forgotten the video existed.
I believed that part.
People often forgot evidence when they did not yet understand it as evidence.
Detective Ruiz asked Clara to surrender the original phone. Clara’s attorney negotiated terms to preserve privileged and unrelated personal material. The process took two days.
During those two days, Glen launched his counterattack.
His attorney filed for temporary custody orders, alleging that I had isolated Ariel, exposed her to adult conflict, and used her statements to support a campaign against him.
Some allegations were false.
One was not entirely false.
Ariel had heard me cry on the phone to Daniel. She knew the word embryo because I had answered one of her questions too directly. My attempt to be honest had burdened her with more than she could understand.
Rebecca did not excuse it.
“You need a child therapist,” she said. “Not because you are unfit. Because Ariel has been placed inside a conflict created by adults.”
I arranged an appointment with a licensed child psychologist who had no connection to the investigation.
The therapist told me not to ask Ariel for more details and not to reassure her with promises I could not keep.
“You can say she is safe today,” she explained. “Do not say everything will be fine. You do not know that.”
It was painful advice.
It was also respectful.
At the temporary custody hearing, the judge reviewed messages, the clinic investigation, and both parents’ proposals. She did not decide who committed fraud. That was not the purpose of the hearing.
She ordered a temporary schedule.
Ariel would live primarily with me. Glen would have two supervised visits each week at a family services center until the court received more information. Neither parent could discuss the reproductive dispute with Ariel or disparage the other in her presence.
Glen’s face remained expressionless when the order was announced.
Outside court, he approached within several feet of me.
A deputy stepped closer.
“I would never hurt her,” Glen said.
“You already used her.”
“I did not expect her to understand.”
“That is not better.”
“She was supposed to color in the waiting room.”
The admission was quiet.
His attorney closed his eyes.
Glen had finally confirmed that Ariel was present at the transfer.
“Why bring her?” I asked.
“Our sitter canceled.”
“You could have canceled.”
“Everything had been scheduled.”
The embryo. The medication. The deception.
Our daughter had been an inconvenience inside his plan.
“You looked at her after she spoke at the pool,” I said. “You wanted her to be afraid.”
“No.”
“I saw you.”
“I was afraid.”
That was the closest he had come to truth.
“Of what?”
He looked toward the courthouse doors.
“Of losing everything before I could fix it.”
He walked away.
The forensic analysis of Clara’s phone revealed deleted messages. Some could be recovered.
In one exchange, dated March 16, Clara asked Glen:
What if Mara never forgives us?
Glen replied:
She forgave her mother. She forgave Daniel. She forgives anyone who makes her feel responsible for their pain.
I read the sentence until the words lost shape.
Glen knew my worst habit.
I mistook understanding someone’s motives for an obligation to excuse them.
Another message concerned Nadine.
Clara wrote:
She wants another 50.
Glen answered:
Pay it from the vendor account. Not ours.
Clara:
She says the barcode issue makes this more dangerous.
Glen:
There is no issue if everyone follows the record.
Clara:
What if they inspect the tank?
Glen did not answer in writing.
The barcode issue.
The tank.
Rebecca forwarded the messages to Detective Ruiz and Northlake’s counsel.
Northlake temporarily shut down its cryostorage program and notified patients whose records might have been accessed. Independent embryology auditors were brought in to reconcile physical inventory with electronic records.
News of the shutdown reached local media.
No names were reported initially, but Bennett Harbor Logistics issued a statement confirming that an executive was on leave during an investigation into unauthorized vendor payments.
By evening, Glen’s identity appeared online.
So did mine.
A photograph from the pool party had been posted anonymously. It showed me gripping Clara’s wrist while she clutched the towel around her waist.
The caption read:
Jealous wife attacks pregnant surrogate after changing her mind.
The image excluded Ariel.
It excluded the tattoo.
It excluded everything before and after.
My employer called to tell me I could work remotely while the attention continued. They were supportive, but careful. No company wants to become a character in someone else’s scandal.
My mother phoned.
This time, I answered.
“You need to stop the public humiliation,” she said.
“I did not post the picture.”
“But you created the scene.”
“Clara and Glen created the scene.”
“You don’t know what happened.”
“I know my signature was copied.”
“You have always been emotional about pregnancy.”
The cruelty was familiar because it arrived disguised as concern.
“Mom, did Glen contact you before the party?”
She hesitated.
“Why?”
“Did he?”
“He asked whether you were still having nightmares about the miscarriages.”
“When?”
“Several weeks ago.”
“What else did he ask?”
“He wanted to know whether I believed you were capable of raising another baby.”
My hand went numb around the phone.
“What did you say?”
“I said you were a wonderful mother when you weren’t overwhelmed.”
The answer broke something old inside me.
Glen had been collecting witnesses for a future version of me.
A fragile wife.
An unstable mother.
A woman who might deny consenting to a surrogacy arrangement because trauma had damaged her memory.
“Did he ask you to sign anything?”
“No.”
“Did he record you?”
“I don’t know.”
Rebecca later obtained a voice memo from Clara’s drive.
Glen had recorded my mother without telling her.
In the audio, he asked carefully shaped questions.
Had I ever said I could not survive another pregnancy?
Had I ever forgotten conversations during periods of grief?
Had I ever become irrational when confronted with reminders of miscarriage?
My mother answered yes to each.
Near the end, Glen said, “So if Mara agreed to something and later denied it, you wouldn’t be shocked.”
My mother paused.
Then she said, “No. I would be worried about her.”
The recording ended there.
May you like
But the metadata revealed it had been edited.
Four minutes were missing from the middle.
