Chapter 5 - THE MISSING EMBRYO
Our home office had always been Glen’s territory.
He paid bills there.
Handled taxes there.
Built neat color-coded folders so impressive you almost forgot that organization can hide as much as it reveals.
He forgot one thing.
I knew his habits.
When he wanted something invisible, he hid it behind something boring.
I found the fertility folder inside a tax organizer labeled HOME WARRANTY CLAIMS.
Inside were printouts from Northlake, billing statements, medication instructions, and a copy of the embryo-storage agreement in both our names.
My hands shook so badly I had to sit.
Two embryos remained after Ariel was born.
At least that was what we had always been told.
Then I found the updated inventory sheet.
Current cryostorage status:
Embryo A – in storage.
Embryo B – released for transfer.
Released.
I kept reading.
Recipient:
Clara Bennett.
My throat closed.
Intended male gamete source:
Glen Carter.
Embryo origin:
Carter marital cycle.
No.
No.
No.
I flipped pages wildly until I found the consent forms.
My name was there.
My digital signature was there.
Approval for thaw and transfer.
Approval for change in designated recipient.
Approval for no immediate notification post-transfer due to “family disclosure concerns.”
I stared until the words blurred.
I had never signed this.
Not knowingly.
Maybe buried inside a batch Glen told me was “storage renewal.”
Maybe attached to some document title he minimized and rushed me through.
Maybe forged completely.
I didn’t know yet.
What I knew was worse.
One of my embryos—an embryo created from my egg and my husband’s sperm after two miscarriages and months of IVF—had been transferred into my stepmother’s body.
I couldn’t breathe.
Ariel had been right.
Daddy was there.
Not in the way a child understood.
In a way no wife should ever have to.
By the time Glen came home that evening, I had every document spread across the dining table in exact order.
He walked in, saw the papers, and stopped.
I had never seen guilt move physically across someone’s face before.
Now I watched it happen.
He shut the front door slowly.
“Rachel.”
“Don’t.” My voice came out flat. “Do not say my name like you still deserve it.”
He took one step closer.
“I was going to tell you.”
“When? After my daughter got slapped for discovering your secret?”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”
I laughed, and this time it sounded broken even to me.
“Were you ever going to ask permission before putting my embryo inside Clara?”
He shut his eyes.
That was answer enough.
Then he whispered, “We were going to surprise you if it worked.”
I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor.
“Surprise me?”
His eyes opened.
Desperate now.
“Rachel, listen. You wanted another baby for years.”
“I wanted one with my husband, not with my husband and my stepmother conspiring behind my back like psychopaths.”
He flinched.
Good.
Then he said the sentence that ended whatever tenderness I still had left for him.
“You kept delaying.”
For one second the room went silent.
Then I said, “So you stole my choice.”
He did not deny it.
And that was when I realized this was bigger than an affair.
May you like
Much bigger.
This was theft wearing the face of family.
