“Take me to the baby.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
“There are things you need to understand first.”
“No.”
“Mrs. Carter—”
“My daughter is in a coffin and my grandchild is alone in a hospital. There is nothing more important.”
He looked at me for a long moment.
Then nodded.
A black car waited behind the church.
We drove through wet streets toward St. Catherine’s Medical Center.
I sat rigidly in the back seat.
Michael remained beside me.
“Why did Emily tell me the baby died?”
“She believed Ethan was monitoring your phone.”
“He was?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“A tracking application. Shared cloud account. Access to call records.”
I closed my eyes.
All those times she lowered her voice.
Turned off her phone.
Asked me not to contact her at certain hours.
“She thought he would hurt the baby?”
“She believed he intended to take control of the child’s trust.”
“He didn’t know the baby wasn’t his.”
Michael hesitated.
“He knew there was a possibility.”
I turned toward him.
“How?”
“Because the pregnancy did not result from an affair.”
The road blurred beyond the window.
“What are you saying?”
Michael looked down at his hands.
“Emily used a stored embryo.”
I stared.
Years earlier, after her first miscarriage, doctors discovered Ethan had a condition that made biological fatherhood highly unlikely. They created embryos using donor material before Emily fully understood what Ethan was becoming.
One viable embryo remained frozen.
Ethan later refused permission for implantation because he wanted to use the remaining embryo as leverage in the divorce.
“Could he do that?”
“He believed he could.”
“How did she become pregnant?”
“She had the embryo transferred under a court order using her independent medical authority.”
“Then why hide it?”
“Ethan told people she was unstable. He planned to challenge the transfer and claim she lacked capacity.”
I pressed both hands against my face.
“She did all this alone.”
“No.”
Michael’s voice softened.
“She had help.”
“From whom?”
He looked at me.
“Your husband.”
My dead husband.
Thomas.
I stared at him.
“That’s impossible.”
“Thomas anticipated fertility complications before he died. He created a reproductive trust for Emily.”
I could not understand.
“Why?”
“Because he knew the Carter family carried a genetic condition affecting fertility.”
Michael opened a file from his briefcase.
Inside was a letter in Thomas’s handwriting.
Margaret,
If Emily ever chooses motherhood and needs help, do not let shame or pride make the decision for her.
The embryos created through this trust are hers.
The donor has been screened.
The child will be hers in every way that matters.
I read the letter twice.
Then looked at Michael.
“Who was the donor?”
He said nothing.
The hospital appeared ahead.
“Michael.”
“It is sealed.”
“I am the guardian.”
“Not yet officially.”
“Who?”
He exhaled.
