Chapter 4: The Embryos They Said Were Destroyed
I read Natalie's message so many times that the words began to blur.
There's something you need to know about the embryos you thought were destroyed.
For six months, I had believed there was nothing left.
Six months earlier, Eric and I had sat in a small consultation room at Westbrook Fertility Center. The walls were painted a soft yellow, and a plastic vase of artificial flowers sat beside the doctor's computer.
Dr. Harris had folded her hands and delivered the news gently.
“I'm very sorry, Claire. The final storage procedure was unsuccessful. The remaining embryos were compromised.””
I remembered Eric squeezing my hand.
I remembered crying in the parking lot.
I remembered him promising that we would find another way.
And now Natalie was telling me there was something I didn't know.
I called her.
She answered immediately.
“Claire?””
“What did you mean?””
“Can we meet?””
“No. You're going to tell me right now.””
She sniffled.
“Eric said you would react like this.””
“Don't you dare use my husband's words to explain what you did to me.””
Silence.
Then Natalie whispered, “The embryos weren't destroyed.””
My knees weakened.
“What?””
“I saw the paperwork.””
“When?””
“Last month.””
“Why were you looking at my medical records?””
She hesitated.
“Eric asked me to help him with something.””
I closed my eyes.
“Of course he did.””
“Claire, please listen. He said the clinic had made a mistake. He told me the embryos were still there, but that you had signed a document allowing him to take control of them.””
I gripped my desk.
“I never signed anything.””
“I know that now.””
“Then what did you sign?””
She began crying.
“I signed as a witness.””
The same words appeared in the financial documents.
Witness.
Apparently, my sister had become very comfortable witnessing things she had no right to be involved in.
“What exactly did you witness, Natalie?””
“A consent form. It said Eric could make decisions about the remaining embryos if you were unavailable.””
“I was never unavailable. I was sitting in that clinic every month.””
“I know.””
“Did you see my signature?””
“Yes.””
“Was it real?””
She didn't answer.
I ended the call.
Within minutes, I had Richard on the phone.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he said, “Don't contact the clinic yourself yet. We need to preserve the evidence.””
“Richard, those embryos were mine too.””
“I understand.””
“No, you don't. I spent years trying to have a child. I injected medication into my stomach until I bruised.
I underwent procedures that left me unable to walk comfortably for days. And someone apparently decided they could take control of what was left without telling me.””
“I'll arrange a meeting with the clinic's legal department.””
“Today.””
“Claire—”
“Today, Richard.””
He agreed.
At 11:40 a.m., I arrived at Westbrook Fertility Center.
The same receptionist who had once congratulated me on a successful embryo transfer greeted me with a professional smile.
“Good morning, Mrs. Bennett.””
“I need to see Dr. Harris.””
“Do you have an appointment?””
“No. But I have a question about medical records that may have been altered.””
Her smile disappeared.
Within fifteen minutes, I was sitting in a conference room with Dr. Harris, the clinic administrator, and Richard.
Dr. Harris looked uncomfortable.
“Claire, I want you to know that our team takes patient confidentiality very seriously.””
“Then why was my sister given access to my records?””
The administrator glanced at a folder.
“She was listed as an authorized contact.””
“I never authorized that.””
Dr. Harris looked up.
“Your husband submitted the authorization.””
“Show me.””
The administrator hesitated.
Richard leaned forward.
“Please provide the original document and its electronic submission history.””
A few minutes later, a printed form appeared.
My name was at the top.
My signature was at the bottom.
It looked convincing.
But I knew immediately that something was wrong.
I had a habit of crossing the letter C in my signature with a small upward stroke.
This signature didn't have it.
“That's not mine.””
Dr. Harris examined the page.
“Are you certain?””
“Absolutely.””
Richard took photographs.
“Who uploaded this document?””
The administrator checked the system.
“Mr. Eric Bennett.””
“And when?””
“Four months ago.””
I stared at him.
Four months.
That was before the appointment when Dr. Harris had told me the embryos were destroyed.
“Doctor,” I said slowly, “what happened to our embryos?””
Dr. Harris looked toward the administrator.
Then she opened a separate file.
“According to our records, six embryos were originally created. Four were transferred during previous procedures. Two remained in storage.””
I nodded.
I remembered.
“One was classified as unsuitable for transfer,” she continued.
“The other was viable.””
My throat tightened.
“What happened to the viable one?””
She looked at the paperwork.
“It was transferred to a different storage facility under a special custody arrangement.””
“Who authorized that?””
She turned the page.
“Your husband.””
Richard's expression hardened.
“Based on which consent?””
Dr. Harris pointed to the forged document.
I stared at it.
Then I asked the question I had been avoiding.
“Was the embryo used?””
Nobody answered.
The administrator slowly closed the folder.
“Claire, we cannot disclose information about another patient's treatment.””
“Another patient?””
Dr. Harris looked deeply uncomfortable.
Richard sat forward.
“Are you suggesting the embryo was transferred to someone else?””
The administrator looked down.
“I cannot confirm that.””
I felt the room tilt.
My sister was pregnant.
My embryos had supposedly been destroyed.
And now the clinic was refusing to tell me whether one of them had been used.
I stood.
“Who was the recipient?””
The administrator remained silent.
Richard touched my arm.
“Claire, sit down.””
But I couldn't.
I walked to the window.
Outside, a young couple were crossing the parking lot. The woman was holding a small bouquet of flowers. The man had his arm around her shoulders.
They looked hopeful.
I remembered being hopeful.
Then I heard Dr. Harris speak.
“Claire, there's something else.””
I turned.
She looked at the administrator, then back at me.
“Your sister attended a consultation here five months ago.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“Why?””
“She requested information about embryo transfer procedures.””
Richard stood.
“Was she receiving treatment?””
Dr. Harris hesitated.
“According to the records, she was being evaluated for a transfer.””
I stared at her.
“Using whose embryo?””
The administrator closed the file completely.
“I think this discussion needs to continue through legal channels.””
Richard nodded.
“It certainly does.””
We left with copies of the available records and a formal request for the complete medical file.
In the parking lot, Richard received a call.
He answered, listened, and then looked at me.
“Claire, we need to go.””
“What happened?””
He lowered his voice.
“The clinic has just confirmed that the embryo transfer record was amended yesterday.””
“By whom?””
Richard turned his phone toward me.
An electronic notification showed the name of the person who had requested the amendment.
Natalie Bennett.
And beneath her name was a second entry.
*Recipient's pregnancy registration: Confirmed.*
I stared at the screen.
Then my phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
A woman spoke in a frightened whisper.
“Mrs. Bennett? My name is Dr.
Melissa Grant. I used to work at Westbrook.””
“Why are you calling me?””
“Because I saw what happened to your records.””
I looked at Richard.
The woman continued.
“Your sister wasn't the only person who knew about the embryo transfer. Your husband paid someone at the clinic to change the documentation.””
“Who?””
There was a long silence.
May you like
Then she said:
“The doctor who declared your embryos destroyed.””
