Chapter 5: The Test Results Nobody Was Supposed to See
Natalie was waiting beside her car when I came out of the venue.
She took one look at my face and immediately opened the back door.
“Give me the boys,” she said gently.
“I'll get them settled.””
Luke handed her his dinosaur.
“Uncle Natalie—”
“Still Aunt Natalie, buddy.””
“Can we get chicken nuggets?””
“Absolutely.””
Owen climbed into his booster seat and began explaining the complicated rules of a game involving dinosaurs, superheroes, and a missing shoe.
Their ordinary conversation nearly broke me.
Inside that event room, my entire marriage had been dismantled in front of strangers. Out here, my sons were arguing over who got to choose the music.
I kissed both their foreheads before closing the door.
Natalie turned toward me.
“Tell me everything.””
I explained the report, Diane's confession, and the revelation that somebody had altered the original results.
By the time I finished, Natalie's expression had hardened.
“I'm going back in there.””
“No.””
“Claire, she deliberately let you suffer for years.””
“I know.””
“And Mark—”
“I know, Natalie.””
She stopped.
I rubbed my palms against my dress, trying to steady myself.
“I need to understand what happened before I decide what to do.””
Natalie studied me for a moment.
“Then don't go back alone.””
I looked toward the venue.
Through the glass doors, I could see guests gathering their coats. Some were whispering. Others avoided looking toward the room where the shower had taken place.
“I won't.””
My phone buzzed.
A message from Mark.
*MARK:* Please come back. I owe you an explanation.
I stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
*MARK:* I found something in the envelope. I think you need to see it.
Natalie read over my shoulder.
“Don't trust him.””
“I'm not.””
“Good.””
I typed one sentence.
*ME:* Send me a photograph of every page.
Three minutes later, my phone vibrated again.
The first photograph showed the fertility report Mark had already read. The second showed a letter from the clinic, dated seven years earlier.
The final photograph was a handwritten statement bearing Diane's signature.
I enlarged the image.
My stomach tightened.
I request that all communication regarding Mark's fertility results be directed to me. Claire must not be informed of the diagnosis unless absolutely necessary.
Beneath it, another sentence had been added in different handwriting.
Patient requested that his wife receive the explanation directly.
I read it twice.
“That's not Diane's handwriting,” Natalie said.
“No.””
I zoomed in on the signature at the bottom of the page.
It belonged to someone else.
Dr. Samuel Reeves.
The fertility specialist we'd consulted during the final year of our marriage.
“Why would our doctor sign something like this?”” I whispered.
Natalie took the phone.
“Maybe he was involved.””
I shook my head.
“He was the one who kept telling me we needed more tests. He was the one who suggested Mark be evaluated.””
“And what happened?””
“Mark refused.””
I remembered the argument outside the clinic, the way Mark had accused the doctor of trying to humiliate him.
Three days later, Diane had called me with the supposed results.
I'd never returned to that clinic.
I had been too ashamed.
“I need the original medical records,” I said.
Natalie nodded.
“Then we'll get them.””
Before I could answer, another message arrived.
This one came from Emily.
*EMILY:* Claire, I'm sorry. I don't know what Mark told you, but there's something I found in his study last month. I thought it was an old insurance document. Now I think it may be connected to this.
A photograph followed.
It showed a cream-colored folder with a red stamp across the front.
PATIENT CONFIDENTIAL.
Below that was a date.
Four months before our divorce.
I stared at it.
“Four months?”” Natalie repeated.
“He had these records before the divorce?””
“I don't know.””
My phone rang.
Emily.
I answered.
“Claire?”” Her voice trembled.
“Are you still nearby?””
“Yes.””
“Can we talk somewhere private?””
I looked at Natalie.
She nodded.
“There's a coffee shop across the road,” I said.
“Ten minutes.””
Emily arrived wearing a coat over her pink dress. Her makeup was smudged beneath her eyes, and she held a thick folder against her chest.
She sat across from me without ordering anything.
“I owe you an apology,” she said.
“You don't owe me anything.””
“Yes, I do. I believed what Mark told me about you.””
“What did he tell you?””
“That you were obsessed with having children, that you blamed him for everything, and that the divorce happened because you couldn't accept that your marriage was over.””
I looked down at the table.
Of course.
Even after leaving me, he'd found a way to make me the villain.
Emily opened the folder.
“I found these documents in his study when I was organizing paperwork for the baby. He told me they were old records from his father's estate.””
She slid a page toward me.
It was a laboratory report.
Mark's name appeared at the top.
So did the clinic's name.
The test date was three months before our divorce became final.
I read the conclusion.
Severe male-factor infertility.
Below it, in bold letters, was a recommendation for genetic counseling and further evaluation.
My hands began to shake.
“He knew,” I whispered.
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“I think he did.””
I looked at the signature.
Mark's.
It was unmistakable.
He had received the results months before telling me I was the reason we couldn't have children.
“He knew,” I repeated.
Emily pressed her hands together.
“There's more.””
She pulled out another document.
This one was an email printed on ordinary office paper.
The sender was Dr. Reeves.
The recipient was Mark.
The date was six weeks before the divorce.
I read the first sentence.
Mark, I strongly recommend that you discuss the results with your wife before making any final decisions about your marriage.
The second sentence made my blood run cold.
Your mother's involvement in this matter is creating serious ethical concerns, and I cannot continue communicating with her on your behalf.
I looked at Emily.
“Did Mark ever explain this?””
“No. But there was a second page.””
She reached into the folder and removed it.
At the bottom was a handwritten note, apparently added by Mark.
If Claire finds out what happened, everything my mother has done will come out.
I couldn't breathe.
It wasn't just that Mark had known the truth.
He had known his mother was hiding something.
And he had been afraid of what would happen if I discovered it.
Emily stared at me.
“Claire, I need you to answer one question.””
“What?””
She placed both hands over her pregnant belly.
“When Mark and I started trying for a baby, he told me his fertility tests were normal.””
My heart sank.
“He told you that?””
She nodded.
“And he said you were the reason your marriage ended.””
I closed my eyes.
May you like
Then Emily whispered the words that made the room seem to tilt.
“Claire, if his results were so bad seven years ago, how did he get me pregnant?””
