Chapter 4: The Embryo He Swore We Had Lost
I read the message three times before the words made sense.
Ask him what really happened to your last embryo.
For seven years, I had carried the memory of that failed fertility treatment like a stone inside my chest. Everett had held my hand in a sterile hospital room while our doctor explained that the final embryo had not survived thawing.
I remembered crying into Everett's shoulder in the parking garage.
I remembered him promising we would try again.
And I remembered him telling me, six months later, that perhaps we were never meant to have children.
Now a stranger was telling me that the truth had been something else entirely.
"Charlotte?"" Robert asked.
"What is it?""
I locked my phone.
"Someone just sent me a message about our fertility treatment.""
Everett's head snapped up.
"What message?""
I watched his face carefully.
For one brief second, before he could arrange his expression, I saw it.
Recognition.
He knew something.
"Do you know what happened to our last embryo?"" I asked.
He laughed too quickly.
"Not now. This isn't the place.""
"Then where is the place, Everett? The penthouse where you planned to replace me? Your office, where you apparently helped someone move twelve million dollars? Or the clinic where you told me our last chance at having a child had died?""
Vanessa went completely still.
Diane looked toward the ballroom doors.
Everett grabbed my wrist.
"Stop talking.""
I pulled free.
"Answer me.""
"You're upset. You're making connections that don't exist.""
"Then tell me what the message means.""
His jaw flexed.
"Nothing. Someone is trying to manipulate you.""
"Who?""
"I don't know!""
His shout startled the guests closest to us.
Robert stepped between us.
"Mr. Whitmore, I strongly recommend you stop making statements until you've consulted counsel.""
Everett glared at him.
"You're my wife's attorney, not mine.""
"Tonight, I'm here representing the interests of the investment trust.""
"Then stay out of my marriage!""
Robert didn't move.
"Your marriage became relevant to the trust when someone apparently attempted to use a proposed divorce to influence its financial decisions.""
I turned away from Everett and opened my contacts.
There was only one person I trusted to answer the question without protecting my husband's reputation.
Dr. Elaine Mercer.
She had overseen our fertility treatment at a private clinic on the Upper East Side. After the final procedure, she had called me personally to express her sympathy.
I had never spoken to her again.
My call went to voicemail.
I tried once more.
This time, she answered.
"Charlotte?""
Her voice sounded strained.
"Dr. Mercer, I need you to tell me what happened to the final embryo created during my treatment with Everett Whitmore.""
Silence.
Then she said, "Where are you right now?""
"At the Whitmore gala.""
"Are you alone?""
"No.""
"Charlotte, I can't discuss protected medical information over the phone.""
"I understand. But I received a message suggesting the embryo didn't die during thawing.""
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Finally, she whispered, "You need to come to my office tomorrow morning.""
My heart hammered.
"Why?""
"Because there are records you were never shown.""
Everett had moved close enough to hear her voice through the phone.
He lunged for it.
I stepped away.
"Dr. Mercer, did someone falsify my medical records?""
"I didn't say that.""
"Did the embryo survive?""
Her breathing became audible.
"Charlotte, please. I need to review the records before I make any statement.""
"That's not an answer.""
"No," she whispered.
"It isn't.""
Then the line went dead.
For several seconds, the ballroom seemed to tilt around me.
I looked at Everett.
He wouldn't meet my eyes.
"You knew," I said.
He shook his head.
"Charlotte, listen to me.""
"You knew something happened.""
"I told you what the doctor told us.""
"No. You told me what you wanted me to believe.""
He reached for my hands.
"Please. Not here.""
I stepped back.
"Don't touch me.""
His expression crumpled for an instant, but the emotion disappeared when he noticed Margaret Ellis watching him.
"You're destroying everything we've built," he whispered.
I looked at the man I had defended for ten years.
"No, Everett. I'm finally looking at what we built.""
Behind him, Vanessa was crying again. Diane had disappeared toward the ladies' room. Daniel was speaking urgently to a security supervisor, asking that the financial records be preserved.
Then Robert's phone rang.
He listened for several seconds before his face hardened.
"Charlotte," he said, covering the microphone, "our forensic accountant has found a second transfer connected to Northbridge Advisory.""
"How much?""
"Four million dollars.""
"Who authorized it?""
Robert glanced toward Everett.
"The payment instruction carries your husband's electronic approval.""
Everett's face turned white.
"That's impossible.""
Robert ended the call.
"Then you should have no difficulty explaining it.""
Before Everett could respond, a man in a dark suit appeared at the ballroom entrance. He was holding a thin envelope and looking directly at me.
"Mrs. Whitmore?""
"Yes?""
"My name is Paul Bennett. I was instructed to deliver this to you personally.""
I recognized the surname.
My family.
Paul handed me the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of a document dated seven years earlier.
At the top were the words *Embryo Transfer Authorization*.
Beneath them was a signature that looked exactly like mine.
But I had never signed it.
May you like
And beside the signature was a second name.
Everett Whitmore.
