Chapter 6: The Question That Destroyed His New Marriage
I couldn't answer Emily.
Not because I wanted to protect Mark, but because I didn't understand what she was asking.
“Maybe the doctors were wrong,” I said finally.
“Maybe his condition changed.””
Emily shook her head.
“That's what I thought. But the report says his condition was severe, and the specialist recommended further testing. Mark told me he'd been tested recently and everything was normal.””
She pushed the folder toward me.
“I found the records because I was trying to arrange our insurance paperwork. When I asked him about the dates, he became furious.””
“What did he say?””
“He told me I was invading his privacy. Then he took the folder away.””
She looked down at her hands.
“I only managed to keep these pages because I had already made copies.””
Natalie leaned forward.
“Did he ever show you the newer test results?””
“No.””
“Did he tell you which clinic he used?””
Emily hesitated.
“He said he'd gone to a private specialist in Columbus. But when I asked for the name, he changed the subject.””
I looked again at the old report.
Severe male-factor infertility.
The words were clinical, impersonal, and devastating. They didn't necessarily mean Mark could never father a child, but they did mean that his claim to have been tested and cleared needed evidence.
I had spent seven years believing my body was the obstacle.
Now I was beginning to suspect that Mark had built an entire second life around a secret he couldn't bear to face.
“Emily,” I asked, “have you had any fertility treatment?””
“No. I became pregnant naturally.””
“How far along are you?””
“Twenty-seven weeks.””
I nodded slowly.
It was possible for some men with severe fertility problems to conceive naturally, depending on the underlying cause. His old diagnosis alone couldn't explain the circumstances of Emily's pregnancy.
But something still didn't add up.
“Did Mark ever discuss having a DNA test done on the baby?”” I asked.
Emily's face changed.
“Yes.””
“When?””
“About two months ago. He brought it up during an argument.””
“What did he say?””
She stared at the table.
“He asked whether I'd ever been with anyone else around the time we conceived.””
Natalie swore under her breath.
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“I told him no. I have never cheated on him. But he kept asking questions about dates, about my doctor's appointments, about whether the pregnancy was planned.””
“And what happened?””
“He apologized the next morning. He said work was stressing him out.””
I looked at the folder again.
“Did he actually arrange a test?””
“I don't know.””
My phone vibrated.
Mark was calling.
I let it ring twice before answering.
“Claire.””
His voice sounded exhausted.
“Where are you?””
“With Emily.””
A pause.
“You shouldn't be discussing our private business with her.””
I nearly laughed.
“Your private business? You announced my supposed infertility to an entire room of people this afternoon.””
“That's not what I meant.””
“Then explain what you meant.””
He exhaled sharply.
“I want to meet. Alone.””
“No.””
“Claire, please. I need to explain.””
“You had four years to explain.””
“I didn't know about the twins.””
“You knew about your test results.””
Silence.
I held the phone tighter.
“You knew before the divorce, didn't you?””
His breathing changed.
“Who told you that?””
“Your own signature is on the report.””
He said nothing.
Then, quietly, “I was scared.””
The familiar excuse.
I had heard it when he refused another appointment. I'd heard it when he told me the doctors were wasting our time. I'd heard it when he packed his belongings.
“You were scared,” I repeated.
“So you let me believe I was incapable of giving you children?””
“I thought the results might be wrong.””
“And you never thought to tell me?””
“I didn't want you to look at me differently.””
I stared at the window.
“You were more afraid of losing my respect than you were of destroying it.””
“Claire, I know I hurt you.””
“You don't know half of it.””
His voice cracked.
“Are the boys mine?””
I looked toward the coffee shop window, where Natalie stood beside Emily.
“Yes. The DNA test confirmed it.””
A long silence followed.
Then Mark whispered, “I have sons.””
“You have three-year-old sons who don't know you.””
“I want to meet them.””
“You wanted a family when it made you look successful. You wanted a wife you could blame when things went wrong. Now you want to walk into my children's lives because you've discovered they exist.””
“That's not fair.””
“No, Mark. What's not fair is that Luke and Owen grew up without a father who could have been there.””
I ended the call.
My hands were trembling, but my voice had remained steady.
Emily was crying silently.
“I don't know who I married,” she whispered.
I wanted to tell her that I understood. That I had once loved him, too. That there were moments when he had been kind, funny, and tender enough to make me believe he was the safest person in the world.
But I couldn't promise her that the man she'd married was still there.
Because I no longer knew.
An hour later, Natalie drove us home.
The boys had fallen asleep in the back seat, their heads leaning toward each other. I watched them through the rearview mirror and wondered how I would explain their father when they were old enough to ask.
At home, I carried Owen upstairs while Natalie carried Luke. We tucked them into their beds, kissed their foreheads, and left the hallway light on.
Then I went downstairs and opened the drawer where I kept my medical records.
Inside was a small folder containing my pregnancy tests, ultrasound photographs, and the DNA results I'd ordered after Luke and Owen were born.
I'd taken the test because I wanted to know the truth, even if I never planned to share it with Mark.
The results had confirmed paternity with overwhelming certainty.
I placed the report beside the old fertility documents Emily had given me.
For the first time in years, I didn't feel ashamed.
I felt angry.
And anger, I was discovering, could be useful when it finally had somewhere honest to go.
My phone rang again.
This time, it was Diane.
I almost ignored it.
Then I remembered the altered report.
I answered.
“Claire?””
Her voice was barely audible.
“What do you want, Diane?””
“I know you have every reason to hate me.””
“I don't have the energy to hate you tonight.””
“I understand.””
“No, you don't.””
She fell silent.
Then she said, “I need to tell you something about the original report. I should have told you years ago.””
I sat down at the kitchen table.
“I'm listening.””
“The clinic never sent me your results directly. I obtained them through someone who worked there.””
My stomach tightened.
“Who?””
“I can't tell you over the phone.””
“Why not?””
“Because that person is still involved with Mark.””
I gripped the edge of the table.
“What does that mean?””
Diane began crying again.
“It means the fertility report you saw today was not the only document that was changed.””
I looked toward the staircase, where my sons slept peacefully.
“Diane, if you have any information about my children or their father, you tell me now.””
“I will,” she whispered.
“But there's something you need to understand first. Mark didn't just hide his diagnosis from you.””
“What else did he hide?””
Her answer came in a broken whisper.
“The night he came to collect his boxes, he didn't come to say goodbye.””
I stopped breathing.
“What are you talking about?””
“He came because he believed you had discovered the truth about his test results.””
I stared at the phone.
“That doesn't make sense. I didn't know anything.””
“I know. But Mark thought you did.””
“Why?””
Diane hesitated.
Then she said, “Because someone had already sent you a letter.””
I looked at the empty space on the table where I'd placed the yellow envelope.
“I never received a letter.””
“I know,” Diane whispered.
“Because I intercepted it.””
A cold feeling spread through my chest.
“What did the letter say?””
Diane took a shaky breath.
“It contained the name of the person who altered the reports.””
“Who?””
She was silent for so long that I thought the call had dropped.
Then she finally answered.
“The person who changed your results was not Mark's mother, Claire.””
I gripped the phone.
“It was someone who wanted your marriage to end.””
May you like
And before I could ask another question, Diane added one final sentence.
“Someone who knew Mark would do anything to become a father—and had already decided which woman would give him his next child.””
