Chapter 15 - The Daughter of a Woman I Never Met

# Chapter 15 - The Daughter of a Woman I Never Met

The DNA report said I was Lily's biological father.

It also said her biological mother was Natalie Cross.

There was only one problem.

I had never met Natalie Cross.

Not once.

Not at a party. Not at a business meeting. Not during any of the countless charity events my father had dragged me to over the years.

Yet according to the laboratory, a woman I had never known had given birth to my daughter.

I stood outside Claire's hospital room, listening to Detective Harris breathe on the other end of the phone.

"Daniel, I need you to remain calm."

"Don't tell me to remain calm."

"I understand this is disturbing."

"Disturbing? You're telling me I have a biological child with a woman I've never met."

"The results establish a genetic relationship between the tested samples. They don't establish how that relationship arose."

I closed my eyes.

"Then the samples are wrong."

"That's one possibility we're examining."

"Or someone switched the labels."

"Also possible."

"Or the records were forged."

"Daniel—"

"Because there is no other explanation."

Harris remained silent.

Then he said something that stopped me.

"There is another explanation."

I gripped the phone.

"What?"

"Assisted reproduction."

For several seconds, I couldn't speak.

Then I whispered, "What are you talking about?"

"Did you and Claire ever undergo fertility treatment?"

My stomach tightened.

I looked through the glass panel.

Claire was sleeping.

Her blonde hair spread across the pillow.

For six years, I had believed we conceived Lily naturally.

But suddenly, a memory surfaced.

A medical appointment.

A specialist.

A clinic I had almost forgotten.

And a decision Claire and I had made before Lily was born.

Seven years earlier, Claire and I had been trying to have a child for nearly two years.

We rarely discussed that period anymore.

It had been painful.

Every negative pregnancy test seemed to leave Claire a little quieter.

Every baby shower invitation made her smile politely before retreating to our bedroom.

I tried to reassure her.

We had time.

We had money.

We could explore options.

But Claire wanted a child desperately.

Eventually, she agreed to see a fertility specialist.

The clinic was called Westbridge Reproductive Center.

I remembered the waiting room.

Soft lighting.

Expensive furniture.

Photographs of smiling babies.

A receptionist who spoke in the gentle, practiced voice of someone accustomed to frightened couples.

We underwent preliminary testing.

I provided a semen sample.

Claire completed several examinations.

The doctor discussed possible treatments.

But before we began any assisted reproductive procedure, Claire became pregnant.

Naturally, we believed.

At least, that was what we had been told.

"Daniel?" Harris prompted.

I swallowed.

"We visited a fertility clinic."

"When?"

"About seven years ago."

"Did you provide a genetic or reproductive sample?"

"Yes."

"Was it stored?"

I hesitated.

"I don't remember."

Harris's voice became more serious.

"What was the clinic's name?"

"Westbridge Reproductive Center."

There was a pause.

Then I heard him typing.

"Daniel, I'm going to request the clinic's records."

I leaned against the wall.

"Why?"

"Because if reproductive material was stored or used without authorization, it could explain a biological relationship that you can't account for."

My stomach turned.

"Are you saying someone used my sperm to create a child without telling me?"

"I'm saying we need to investigate whether that happened."

I stared at Claire through the glass.

And for the first time, I wondered whether the mystery surrounding Lily had begun before she was even conceived.

When Claire woke, I sat beside her.

She immediately noticed my expression.

"Dan?"

I took her hand.

"We received the DNA results."

Her face changed.

"What did they say?"

I hesitated.

"Lily is biologically mine."

Relief flooded her expression.

"Oh, thank God."

Then she saw my face.

Her smile disappeared.

"What about me?"

I couldn't speak.

"Daniel?"

I swallowed.

"The results don't support you as Lily's biological mother."

Claire stared at me.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

Then she shook her head.

"No."

I squeezed her hand.

"Claire—"

"No."

Her voice became sharper.

"I carried her."

"I know."

"I felt her kick."

"I know."

"I gave birth to her."

Tears filled her eyes.

"Daniel, I remember holding her."

I leaned closer.

"Nothing changes the fact that you're her mother."

She pulled her hand away.

"Don't say that like you're trying to comfort me."

I froze.

"Claire..."

"Tell me the truth."

I looked down.

"The genetic comparison suggests Natalie Cross may be Lily's biological mother."

Claire went completely still.

Then she whispered, "Natalie?"

I looked up.

"You know her?"

Her expression changed.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

"Claire?"

She looked toward the door.

"Where did you hear that name?"

"From the hospital records. From Marcus. From Richard."

Her breathing quickened.

I leaned forward.

"Did you know Natalie Cross?"

She closed her eyes.

"Yes."

My stomach dropped.

"How?"

Claire began crying.

"Because she was involved in our fertility treatment."

For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.

"What?"

Claire wiped her eyes.

"Westbridge."

I stared at her.

"Natalie worked there?"

She shook her head.

"No."

"Then what?"

Claire took a shaky breath.

"She was a donor."

I felt the room tilt.

"A donor?"

"An egg donor."

I stared at her.

"We never agreed to use donor eggs."

"I know."

"Claire."

She began crying harder.

"I know what we agreed to."

I stood.

"Then explain."

She looked at me.

"After our first consultation, the doctor contacted me privately."

"Why?"

"He said my ovarian reserve was lower than expected. He thought we might have difficulty conceiving."

I remembered the appointments.

The tests.

Claire's anxiety.

But I had never heard that diagnosis.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because I was frightened."

I stared at her.

"The doctor discussed donor eggs?"

She nodded.

"As an option."

"And Natalie?"

"She was listed as a potential donor."

My pulse accelerated.

"Did you use her eggs?"

Claire shook her head.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

I looked away.

"Then why does the DNA report identify her as Lily's biological mother?"

Claire's face crumpled.

"I don't know."

I turned back.

"Did you sign anything?"

She hesitated.

My stomach tightened.

"Claire."

"I signed preliminary consent forms."

"For what?"

"Additional fertility options."

"Without telling me?"

She began crying.

"I thought I was only authorizing further evaluation."

I closed my eyes.

Another signature.

Another document.

Another decision made without my knowledge.

And another opportunity for someone to manipulate our family.

At noon, Harris arrived with a medical investigator.

They reviewed the Westbridge records Claire remembered.

The clinic had closed five years earlier.

Its parent company had been dissolved.

But some archived files remained with a medical records custodian.

Harris showed me a corporate registration document.

I stared at the name.

WESTBRIDGE REPRODUCTIVE CENTER

PARENT COMPANY: NORTHBRIDGE HEALTH SERVICES

My blood ran cold.

"Northbridge."

Harris nodded.

"The same corporate network associated with the trust."

I looked at Claire.

She was staring at the document.

"Did you know?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"No."

Harris continued.

"Westbridge's medical director was a physician named Dr. Samuel Keene."

I frowned.

"That was our doctor."

"Yes."

"Where is he now?"

"We're locating him."

I felt a chill.

"Please tell me he isn't dead."

Harris hesitated.

"We haven't established his current whereabouts."

I looked away.

Of course.

Another doctor.

Another missing witness.

Another institution connected to the same financial network.

Harris turned another page.

"There's something else."

"What?"

"Adrian Bell served as a consulting physician for Westbridge."

My stomach dropped.

"Bell?"

"Yes."

I stared at the document.

The man who had tested Lily.

The man who worked at Ashcroft House.

The man whose body had been found under suspicious circumstances.

He had also been connected to the fertility clinic where Claire and I sought help.

This wasn't coincidence.

Someone had been involved in our family long before Vanessa entered our home.

That afternoon, I visited Richard again.

He was sitting beside a window, reading a newspaper.

When he saw me, he lowered it.

"Daniel."

I remained standing.

"Did you know Westbridge belonged to Northbridge?"

His expression changed.

"Westbridge?"

"The fertility clinic."

He looked away.

I felt anger rise.

"You knew."

"Daniel—"

"Did you know Claire and I went there?"

He hesitated.

"Yes."

My stomach tightened.

"How?"

"Marcus mentioned it."

I stared at him.

"Marcus knew about our fertility treatment?"

"Only that you were considering options."

I stepped closer.

"Did you arrange for Natalie Cross to become an egg donor?"

Richard's face went pale.

"What?"

"You heard me."

He shook his head.

"No."

"She was listed as a potential donor."

Richard stared at me.

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

He swallowed.

"Because Natalie wasn't supposed to be involved with Westbridge."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

Richard looked toward the door.

"She had been involved in a dispute with the company."

"What dispute?"

"She claimed her medical information had been used without permission."

My pulse accelerated.

"What medical information?"

"Genetic records."

I stared at him.

"Whose?"

Richard hesitated.

"Hers."

I felt sick.

"Did she provide eggs?"

"I don't know."

"Did she have a child?"

Richard looked away.

"I told you she believed she was pregnant years earlier."

"That isn't what I'm asking."

He sighed.

"Daniel, Natalie had a daughter."

My heart stopped.

"What?"

"Before she disappeared."

I stared at him.

"Who was the father?"

Richard closed his eyes.

"I believed I was."

My stomach tightened.

"How old would that daughter be now?"

He hesitated.

"About fourteen."

I stared at him.

Fourteen.

Not six.

So Natalie had a daughter long before Lily was born.

And if Richard was the father, that child would be Vanessa's younger half-sister.

Another hidden member of the Mercer family.

"Where is she?" I asked.

Richard shook his head.

"I don't know."

I looked away.

The family tree was becoming a nightmare.

Vanessa.

Natalie's older daughter.

Sophie.

Lily.

And a trust designed around biological relationships nobody had bothered to explain.

At four thirty, Harris called.

"We found a former Westbridge employee."

I stood.

"Who?"

"A laboratory technician named Rebecca Sloan."

"Did she know Natalie?"

"She remembers her."

My pulse quickened.

"What did she say?"

"That Natalie was involved in a donor program."

I closed my eyes.

"So Claire was telling the truth."

"At least about that part."

"What else?"

Harris hesitated.

"Rebecca says the clinic sometimes handled reproductive material under confidential donor codes."

"That's normal, isn't it?"

"Confidential coding can be legitimate. The concern is whether the records accurately reflected consent and use."

I rubbed my forehead.

"Did Natalie consent?"

"Rebecca doesn't know."

"What about my sample?"

"We're tracing the storage records."

I looked toward the window.

"Detective, could someone have used my sperm with Natalie's eggs?"

"Biologically, yes. Whether that occurred is unproven."

I swallowed.

"And then implanted the embryo into Claire?"

"That would be one possible assisted reproduction pathway."

I stared at the wall.

Claire had carried Lily.

She had given birth.

But if a donor egg had been used, she wouldn't be Lily's genetic mother.

The DNA results might be accurate.

And Claire's memories might be accurate too.

Both could be true.

The thought left me breathless.

That evening, I returned to Claire's room.

She was sitting beside the window, looking exhausted.

I sat beside her.

"Claire, there's something we need to consider."

She looked at me.

"What?"

"Maybe Lily was conceived using a donor egg."

Her eyes filled with tears.

"But we never agreed to that."

"I know."

"Then how?"

I took her hand.

"Someone may have used reproductive material without our informed consent."

Claire stared at me.

"Westbridge?"

"Possibly."

She began trembling.

"Dan, I thought I was pregnant naturally."

"I know."

"What if they lied to us?"

I looked at her.

"Then we'll find out who did it."

She wiped her eyes.

"And Sophie?"

I hesitated.

"We still don't know."

Claire looked down.

"What if she's another child created from the same donor?"

I felt a chill.

"That's possible."

She closed her eyes.

"Then Lily and Sophie could be biological sisters."

I nodded slowly.

"Yes."

Claire began crying.

For the first time, the mystery had a plausible explanation that didn't require her to have secretly delivered twins.

But it raised a different horror.

Someone might have created children using our reproductive material.

Someone might have controlled their identities.

And someone might have hidden one of them for years.

At nine fifteen, I received a call from an unknown number.

I hesitated.

Then answered.

"Hello?"

A woman's voice spoke.

Soft.

Frightened.

"Daniel Mercer?"

"Yes."

"My name is Rebecca Sloan."

I straightened.

"The Westbridge technician?"

"Yes."

"Detective Harris told me about you."

"I know."

Her voice trembled.

"I shouldn't be calling."

"Why?"

"Because someone has been asking questions about me."

My pulse accelerated.

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Have you told the police?"

"Not yet."

"Rebecca, you need to contact Detective Harris."

"I will."

She hesitated.

"But first, you need to understand something."

"What?"

"Westbridge wasn't simply a fertility clinic."

I felt my stomach tighten.

"What was it?"

"A research program."

I froze.

"Research into what?"

"Genetic compatibility."

I stared at the wall.

"Compatibility for what?"

She took a shaky breath.

"Potential future medical needs."

I closed my eyes.

Eleanor's illness.

The DNA tests.

The trust.

The children.

Everything was beginning to connect.

"Rebecca, were children created specifically to serve as donors?"

Her voice broke.

"I don't know what the directors intended. I only know they selected certain embryos based on genetic characteristics."

I felt sick.

"Did they use my reproductive material?"

She hesitated.

"Yes."

My heart stopped.

"Without my permission?"

"I never saw your signed authorization."

I gripped the phone.

"How many embryos?"

Silence.

"Rebecca?"

She began crying.

"More than one."

My stomach tightened.

"How many children?"

"I don't know."

"Was Lily one of them?"

"Yes."

I closed my eyes.

"And Sophie?"

A long pause.

Then she whispered, "Yes."

I couldn't speak.

Two girls.

Both connected to my genetic material.

Both born on the same day.

Both caught inside a network of secrecy.

"Rebecca, where is Sophie?"

She hesitated.

"I don't know where she is now."

"Then where was she taken?"

"Ashcroft House."

I felt my pulse hammer.

"Why?"

"Because she was the one they wanted to keep."

I stared at the wall.

"What do you mean?"

Rebecca began crying harder.

"Daniel, Lily wasn't supposed to leave the hospital with you."

My blood ran cold.

"What?"

"The original plan was different."

"Explain."

She swallowed.

"One child was supposed to remain with the family. The other was supposed to be transferred."

"Which one?"

"According to the records, Lily was selected for transfer."

I stopped breathing.

"Then why did she come home with us?"

Rebecca hesitated.

"Because someone changed the identification bands."

My stomach tightened.

"Who?"

A long silence followed.

Then she whispered, "Claire."

I stared at the wall.

"No."

"Daniel—"

"That's impossible."

"I saw her near the neonatal unit."

I felt sick.

"She had just undergone emergency surgery."

"I know."

"She was barely conscious."

Rebecca began crying.

"I don't know how she got there. I only know what I saw."

I looked toward Claire.

She was sitting beside the window.

Watching me.

"Rebecca, are you certain?"

"Yes."

I swallowed.

"Did Claire know what she was doing?"

Rebecca hesitated.

"I don't know."

Then she said something that made my entire body go cold.

"She was carrying one of the babies."

I couldn't speak.

"And she told the nurse not to let anyone take her."

The line went silent.

I lowered the phone.

Claire looked at me.

"Dan?"

I stared at her.

"Did you go into the neonatal unit after Lily was born?"

Her expression changed.

"What?"

"Did you carry a baby out of that room?"

She shook her head.

"I don't remember."

I stepped closer.

"Claire, please."

Tears filled her eyes.

"Why are you asking?"

"Because someone says you switched the identification bands."

She went completely still.

For several seconds, she didn't speak.

Then she whispered, "I didn't switch them."

My chest tightened.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"I didn't."

I exhaled slowly.

Then Claire looked at me with an expression I had never seen before.

Fear.

Not of me.

Of a memory returning.

"Dan..."

"What?"

"I remember holding a baby."

My pulse accelerated.

"Which baby?"

She began trembling.

"I thought it was Lily."

I leaned forward.

"And?"

Claire closed her eyes.

"When I looked down, the identification band had another name."

My heart stopped.

"What name?"

She opened her eyes.

Tears streamed down her face.

"Sophie."