part 3
PART 3
By the time Mason’s father arrived, Emily had stopped crying.
Robert Keller entered the townhouse with a leather folder under one arm and the dead-eyed calm of a man who believed money could turn any crime into paperwork.
He did not ask whether Emily was all right.
He simply placed the folder on the coffee table.
“Read it,” he said.
Inside was an embryo donation agreement.
Emily’s signature appeared at the bottom.
Her driver’s license number. Her initials on each page.
She had never seen it before.
Article Eight stated that she waived all rights to any embryos created from her genetic material. Article Twelve stated she would provide “reasonable medical cooperation” if future biological needs arose.
Emily felt sick.
“You slipped this into my surgical forms.”
Robert did not deny it. “You signed.”
“I was terrified and half sedated.”
“You signed,” he repeated.
Mason stood near the fireplace, refusing to meet her eyes.
Diane wrung her hands. “Honey, nobody wanted to hurt you.”
Emily looked at her. “You stole from my body.”
Diane flinched. “Don’t use ugly words.”
“Ugly words? You want ugly?” Emily picked up the agreement. “You harvested my eggs without informed consent, implanted one child in Vivian, implanted another in me, then planned to use my baby’s cord blood like a spare part.”
Robert’s voice sharpened. “Careful.”
“No. You be careful.”
Mason finally looked up. “Emily, Vivian’s baby may not survive without the cord blood.”
“And mine?” Emily asked. “What happens to my baby after you take what you need?”
No one answered.
That silence was louder than any confession.
Emily turned to Robert. “What happens?”
Robert folded his hands. “There is a couple in California willing to adopt.”
Emily’s laugh came out hollow. “You already found a buyer.”
“Adoptive parents,” Diane corrected weakly.
Emily stood. “You people are monsters.”
Robert’s face darkened. “If you terminate the pregnancy, we sue for breach of contract. The penalty is two hundred thousand dollars, plus damages.”
Emily’s salary as a marketing analyst would not cover that in years.
She stared at Mason. “Was there ever a day you loved me?”
His mouth trembled. “Yes.”
“Then tell me the truth. Whose child is Vivian carrying?”
Mason’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t.”
Emily looked at his father. “Who is Vivian’s husband?”
Robert answered before Mason could. “Alexander Vale.”
The name meant nothing to her.
“Where is he?”
“Washington, D.C. Sometimes Singapore. He works in international finance.”
“Call him.”
Robert’s jaw tightened. “That isn’t necessary.”
“It is to me.”
Mason pulled out his phone, dialed, and put it on speaker. It rang until voicemail.
He tried again.
No answer.
Emily watched his face. Fear again. Not guilt. Fear.
Something about Alexander Vale terrified all of them.
She lowered her eyes to the agreement, then lifted them slowly.
“Fine,” she said. “I’ll keep the baby.”
Diane gasped. “Really?”
“Yes.”
Mason stepped toward her, hope breaking across his face.
Emily held up one finger. “On three conditions. First, Mason has no private contact with Vivian. No appointments, no visits, no calls.”
Mason nodded too quickly. “Done.”
“Second, my lawyer reviews every document you claim I signed.”
Robert’s lips thinned. “Acceptable.”
“Third, I meet Alexander Vale face-to-face.”
The room changed.
Even Diane stopped breathing.
Robert stared at Emily. “Why?”
“Because according to you, he is the biological father of the child I’m carrying. I want to look him in the eye.”
Mason whispered, “Emily, you don’t understand who he is.”
“Then help me understand.”
No one spoke.
Emily grabbed her purse. “I’m going to stay somewhere else tonight.”
Mason reached for her. She stepped away.
“Don’t follow me.”
Outside, cold air hit her face like a slap. Her phone buzzed.
A text from her coworker, Chloe:
My friend at St. Catherine’s checked Vivian’s file. Father listed as Alexander Vale. But Vivian’s marital status says single.
Emily stopped walking.
Another message came.
Also, Mason was listed as emergency contact. Relationship: family.
Family.
Emily looked back at the townhouse. Three shadows moved behind the curtains.
Then an unknown number texted.
If you go to the police, you will regret it.
Emily stared at the message.
Another came.
Keep the baby. That is your only protection.
She did not go to the police.
Not yet.
Instead, she went to Vivian’s apartment.
The tower glittered above the Chicago River like a blade. A doorman let her in after checking a name on a screen, as if Vivian had expected her all along.
Apartment 3104.
The door was open.
Vivian stood inside wearing a soft white sweater, her pregnancy visible beneath it. Two glasses sat on the coffee table: red wine for Vivian, water for Emily.
“You came,” Vivian said.
“Where is Alexander Vale?”
Vivian smiled. “Always so direct.”
“Answer me.”
Vivian sat, crossing her legs gracefully. “Alexander Vale is a name men use when they want doors to open.”
Emily’s skin prickled.
Vivian leaned forward.
“Do you want the truth? Mason isn’t sterile. The baby I’m carrying was made from your eggs and Mason’s sperm. I put your child inside me because Mason loved you, and I wanted something of his that you could never take back.”
Emily gripped the edge of the table.
Vivian’s smile widened.
“But the child inside you?” she whispered. “That one isn’t Mason’s.”
Emily could barely hear over the roaring in her ears.
“Then whose is it?”
May you like
Vivian lifted her glass.
“Ask Alexander Vale.”
