Chapter 5 - MARIANNE’S LETTER
Thomas refused to let me open the envelope inside the storage facility.
“We need somewhere secure.”
Marcus agreed.
I did not.
“It has my name on it.”
“That’s exactly why we assume it may be designed to manipulate you.”
I stared at Thomas.
“You’ve known about this for how long?”
His eyes dropped.
“Long enough.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Three years.”
The number hit hard.
“You knew before my final treatment?”
“Yes.”
“You knew my records were altered?”
“Not at first.”
“You knew embryos were being moved?”
“Yes.”
“You knew Sienna was carrying my child?”
His silence answered.
I stepped toward him.
Marcus moved slightly closer but did not touch me.
I did not shout.
I did not hit Thomas.
Somehow that made him look more frightened.
“You watched me come into the foundation every day.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me talk about treatment.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me plan a fundraiser for women who couldn’t afford IVF while my own embryo had been secretly implanted into my best friend.”
His eyes filled.
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Thomas looked older than I remembered.
Not in years.
In guilt.
“Because Marianne had proof that I stole money.”
I stared.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Eighty thousand dollars.”
Marcus frowned.
“From the foundation?”
Thomas nodded.
“My wife had cancer.”
“She needed treatment insurance wouldn’t cover.”
“I borrowed from a restricted account.”
“You stole it.”
“Yes.”
“And Marianne found out.”
“Yes.”
“She gave me a choice.”
“What choice?”
“Go to prison and lose everything.”
“Or?”
“Help her move money without asking questions.”
My stomach turned.
“How much money?”
“Millions.”
“For Dr. Hale?”
“For Hale.”
“For private clinics.”
“For lawyers.”
“For New Horizons.”
“And for people I never met.”
“Why?”
“At first I thought she was building a fertility network.”
“A secret donor program.”
“Then I realized some patients didn’t know they were donors.”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“You understood that embryos were being transferred without informed consent?”
“Eventually.”
“And you continued?”
Thomas looked at the floor.
“Yes.”
Marcus made a note.
Thomas noticed.
“I know what that means.”
“Good.”
“I’m not asking for immunity.”
“Good.”
I interrupted.
“Where is Rachel Monroe?”
Thomas looked at me.
“I found her nine months ago.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“Phoenix.”
“Does she have the child?”
“She did.”
“Did?”
He looked away.
“What happened?”
“Marianne found out I contacted her.”
My lungs tightened.
“What happened to Rachel?”
“She disappeared.”
“What does that mean?”
“She left the apartment.”
“Closed her bank account.”
“Stopped using her phone.”
“I don’t know whether she ran or someone helped her.”
“And the baby?”
“With her, as far as I know.”
“Boy or girl?”
Thomas hesitated.
“Girl.”
Everything inside me stopped.
A daughter.
Miles had a sister.
My daughter.
I gripped the edge of the table.
“How old?”
“About fourteen months.”
“A month older than Miles?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“The third embryo was transferred first.”
“Before Sienna?”
“Six weeks before.”
I thought back.
Six weeks before Sienna’s transfer, I was still actively undergoing treatment.
I had still believed Julian and I were trying to have a baby together.
Somewhere in Denver, another woman had been implanted with my embryo while I was injecting hormones into my stomach.
“What was her name?”
Thomas blinked.
“Rachel?”
“The child.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“Rachel called her Grace.”
Grace.
The name nearly broke me.
Miles and Grace.
Two children.
Two lives.
Both stolen before I ever knew they had begun.
I sat down.
Marcus gave me several seconds before speaking.
“Thomas, why did Marianne move two embryos?”
“I never understood.”
“You never asked?”
“I did.”
“What did she say?”
“Insurance.”
The same word from the recording.
“What did that mean?”
“She wouldn’t explain.”
Thomas looked at the envelope.
“But I think that letter does.”
I reached for it.
This time Marcus didn’t stop me.
The envelope was old.
My name was handwritten on the front.
Inside were four pages.
The first sentence made my blood run cold.
Clara, if you are reading this, then at least one person I paid has failed me.
Marianne’s voice seemed to rise directly from the paper.
I kept reading.
You will want to believe this was about cruelty.
It was not.
Cruelty is emotional.
What I did was practical.
The Cross family had one problem.
My son loved a woman whose body appeared unwilling to produce an heir quickly enough.
I stopped.
Julian swore softly.
I had not noticed him entering.
He stood in the doorway.
Thomas backed away instinctively.
Julian looked at him.
“You’re alive.”
Thomas gave a humorless smile.
“Sorry to disappoint you.”
“What happened to your face?”
“Your mother.”
Julian went pale.
“What?”
“Not personally.”
“She has people.”
Julian looked at the letter.
“Is that from her?”
“Yes.”
He stepped closer.
I kept reading.
I knew Clara’s eggs were viable before she did.
Peter Hale confirmed it.
I also knew Julian had already begun looking elsewhere for affection.
I did not create his weakness.
I simply used it.
Sienna was willing.
She was healthy.
She loved Julian.
Most importantly, she wanted Clara’s life badly enough to accept terms she should have questioned.
Sienna had known.
From the beginning.
Not later.
Not four months into pregnancy.
From the beginning.
I continued.
The first embryo was placed with Rachel Monroe.
Rachel believed she had received a legally donated embryo.
She was chosen because she had no connection to our family.
She was an insurance policy.
If Sienna failed to carry the second embryo, another Cross heir would still exist.
Julian sank into a chair.
“My mother created backup grandchildren.”
The words sounded grotesque.
I read on.
If both pregnancies succeeded, I intended to evaluate which environment best served the family.
I stopped.
“What does that mean?”
Thomas looked sick.
“Keep reading.”
Sienna would provide Julian with the public family he required.
Rachel’s child would remain anonymous unless needed.
Clara would be removed from the marriage and compensated indirectly through the charitable assets she believed she controlled.
I laughed.
Compensated.
She had stolen my children and considered leaving me my own foundation compensation.
Then came the paragraph that changed everything again.
There was one complication.
Julian signed authorization to release the embryos.
He did not know the final recipients.
He did, however, know Clara had not approved the donation.
The page blurred.
I looked up.
Julian had stopped breathing.
“No.”
I held the letter.
“You knew.”
“No.”
“Your mother says you knew I hadn’t approved it.”
“She’s lying.”
“Why would she write this years ago?”
“I don’t know.”
“You signed something.”
“I told you that.”
“You said you thought I had changed my mind.”
“No.”
He stood.
“That’s not what I said.”
“You said you didn’t care.”
“I didn’t.”
“Exactly.”
He ran a hand over his face.
“I knew she didn’t have your signature yet.”
The room froze.
I stared at him.
“What?”
“I thought she was going to get it.”
“When?”
“Later.”
“But you signed first.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because she said it was routine.”
I laughed bitterly.
“You signed away embryos we created together before I had agreed.”
“I thought you would.”
“You thought.”
“I was done, Clara.”
His voice broke.
“I was done with the treatments.”
“I was done watching you disappear into appointments and injections and disappointment.”
“And you were sleeping with Sienna.”
He looked away.
“Yes.”
“So you signed because you wanted out.”
“Yes.”
The truth finally stood naked between us.
Julian had not engineered the entire scheme.
He had not known Sienna would receive my embryo.
But he had opened the door.
Marianne had walked through it.
I looked back at the letter.
Near the bottom, Marianne had written something different.
Less cold.
More personal.
Clara will believe she lost because she could not become a mother.
That belief is necessary.
If she discovers the truth too soon, she will fight.
And Clara has always been more dangerous when she has something to protect.
I read the sentence twice.
She knew me.
That was the worst part.
Marianne had known exactly what would stop me.
Convince me there was nothing left to fight for.
The final paragraph contained instructions.
If Clara learns about C-17B, move Rachel and C-17C immediately.
Do not allow the children to be connected publicly.
The Cross trust cannot survive competing maternal claims.
I looked at Thomas.
“The trust.”
He nodded.
“What trust?”
Julian answered.
“My grandfather’s.”
I turned toward him.
“There’s an old family trust.”
“How much?”
He hesitated.
“About one hundred eighty million dollars.”
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“More now.”
Julian ignored him.
“It passes to the first biological grandchild born to my line.”
My heart pounded.
“Miles?”
“Yes.”
“And Grace?”
Julian stared.
“She was born first.”
Silence.
Now I understood the word insurance.
Marianne had not only been manufacturing an heir.
She had created two competing heirs to control where the family fortune went.
If Grace existed and had been born before Miles, she had a stronger claim under the trust.
If no one knew Grace existed, Miles inherited everything.
Sienna entered the doorway.
Nobody had heard her arrive.
She was alone.
“Now you understand.”
Julian stood.
“Where’s Miles?”
“With my sister.”
“Why are you here?”
“Because your mother called me.”
My stomach tightened.
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“What did she say?”
Sienna looked at me.
“She knows Clara found the letter.”
Thomas stepped backward.
“That’s impossible.”
Sienna shook her head.
“She knew the second locker 417 opened.”
Marcus looked toward the ceiling.
“Camera.”
Thomas swore.
Sienna continued.
“She told me to bring Miles to the airport.”
Julian stared.
“And you came here?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Sienna’s face crumpled.
“Because I finally understand that she was never protecting me.”
“She was protecting the trust.”
I looked at her.
“What else did she say?”
Sienna hesitated.
Then handed me her phone.
A text message.
Unknown number.
One sentence.
RACHEL HAS BEEN FOUND.
Below it was a photograph.
A woman leaving a grocery store.
Dark hair.
Gray sweater.
A little girl in her arms.
The child’s face was turned toward the camera.
My breath stopped.
Blue-gray eyes.
My eyes.
Miles’s eyes.
And beneath the photograph, Marianne had written another message.
May you like
YOU HAVE UNTIL MIDNIGHT TO DECIDE WHICH CHILD YOU WANT TO SAVE.
================================================================================
