For several seconds, neither Rebecca nor I spoke.
I read Jessica’s message again.
The female embryo from your storage account was thawed first.
It didn’t implant.
The words were clinical.
They described a medical outcome.
But what I felt was grief.
Unexpected.
Complicated.
Immediate.
I had spent years believing that embryo had been destroyed alongside the male one.
Then I learned the male had survived.
Now I discovered the female embryo had survived too.
Not only survived.
She had been thawed.
Transferred.
Lost.
Without my knowledge.
Without my consent.
Without even the dignity of my knowing she had existed a little longer than I believed.
Rebecca said my name.
I could not answer.
She tried again.
“Lauren.”
“I’m here.”
“We need to verify this.”
“I know.”
“Jessica may be lying.”
“I know.”
“She may be minimizing her own involvement.”
“I know.”
But I also knew something else.
The absence of storage invoices for the female embryo had bothered me from the beginning.
I had assumed only one had been secretly preserved.
Perhaps both had been preserved, but only the male’s expenses were deliberately routed through Sterling accounts.
Perhaps the female embryo’s records had been hidden another way.
Or perhaps the invoices in Rebecca’s folder were incomplete.
“What do we have on the female embryo?” I asked.
“Very little.”
“Why?”
“The financial trail we found during the divorce referenced only the male embryo’s identification number.”
“So how was the female stored?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Can Oakfield check?”
“They will now.”
I looked at Jessica’s message.
“When did the first transfer happen?”
“Ask her.”
I typed.
Jessica answered:
Eleven months ago.
I did the math.
Before I filed for divorce.
Before Carter moved out.
Before he admitted the affair.
Before I even knew she existed in his life.
My stomach turned.
“You said the photograph was twenty-two months old,” Rebecca said.
“Yes.”
“So their relationship had already been ongoing.”
“Yes.”
“But he was still married to you when the first embryo transfer occurred.”
“Yes.”
The significance sharpened.
Carter had not waited until our marriage ended.
He had not even waited until separation.
He had been attempting to create a child with another woman using an embryo genetically created by his wife while continuing to live at home with me.
I remembered those months.
Carter becoming distant.
Late meetings.
Sudden work trips.
The counseling sessions where he complained that I had “emotionally withdrawn.”
He had been trying to impregnate Jessica with my embryo while accusing me of failing the marriage.
I stood.
“I need air.”
“Don’t leave the conference room alone if you’re upset.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I walked to the window.
Seattle traffic moved below.
People crossed intersections carrying umbrellas.
The world looked insultingly ordinary.
My phone vibrated.
Jessica.
Carter was there for both transfers.
I showed Rebecca.
“Save it.”
Then another.
Richard paid part of the clinic fees through a private account.
I stared at the screen.
Richard again.
“He knew about the transfers.”
“According to Jessica.”
Another message came.
He only knew about the second transfer at first. Carter told him after the first failed.
Rebecca said, “That distinction matters.”
“Not morally.”
“Legally.”
I turned.
“Do you ever get tired of telling people that?”
“Yes.”
That answer was so immediate that I almost smiled.
Almost.
I typed:
Why are you telling me this now?
Jessica took several minutes.
Then:
Because Carter is saying I stole the embryo and tricked him.
I read the message aloud.
Rebecca nodded once.
“There it is.”
Self-preservation.
Not remorse.
At least not primarily.
Jessica continued.
He signed everything.
He chose the clinic dates.
He knew the first embryo was female.
That stopped me.
“He knew.”
Rebecca frowned.
“What?”
“The first embryo was female. He knew that before the transfer.”
“That would be consistent with the old genetic screening.”
I remembered Carter’s courthouse words.
Take the girls.
I have a son coming now.
Girls discarded.
Boy celebrated.
Yet he had approved the transfer of a female embryo first.
“Why?” I asked.
Rebecca understood.
“If the goal was a son, why use the female embryo?”
Exactly.
I typed the question to Jessica.
Her answer arrived quickly.
Because Carter said we should use her first in case the transfer failed.
My body went cold.
Rebecca whispered, “Read that again.”
I did.
Carter had treated the female embryo as a test.
A lower-value attempt.
Something expendable before risking the boy.
I sat down.
My hands were shaking now.
“He used her as practice.”
“We don’t know his exact reasoning beyond Jessica’s claim.”
“He said in case the transfer failed.”
“That is what she says he said.”
I looked at the photograph of Carter and Jessica.
For the first time that day, rage overtook grief.
Not loud rage.
Not dramatic.
Something cleaner.
More dangerous.
Carter had spent years presenting himself as pragmatic.
He called emotional attachment irrational whenever it interfered with his plans.
Now that trait had reached its logical end.
He had placed different values on embryos based on sex.
One for practice.
One for legacy.
I asked Jessica:
Did Richard know the first embryo was female?
No.
Did Carter tell him after it failed?
He told Richard there had been an unsuccessful preliminary attempt.
Preliminary.
The word made me close my eyes.
Rebecca said, “Forward everything.”
“I am.”
My phone rang again.
This time I answered.
Rebecca sat up sharply.
“Lauren—”
I raised one finger.
Carter’s voice came immediately.
“Thank God.”
I said nothing.
“Lauren, listen to me before Jessica poisons this.”
I put the call on speaker.
Rebecca began recording through the conference system after confirming our jurisdiction allowed her to preserve the call appropriately.
Carter continued.
“She is lying to protect herself.”
“You told me she handled the paperwork.”
“She did.”
“You also signed it.”
A pause.
“What did she send you?”
“Answer the question.”
“Lauren—”
“Did you sign documents authorizing embryo transfers?”
Silence.
Then, “I signed documents based on what she told me.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Yes.”
Rebecca typed something and held it toward the camera.
ASK BOTH TRANSFERS.
“Both transfers?”
Carter went quiet.
I waited.
Finally he said, “You don’t understand the circumstances.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Were there two transfers?”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
The admission settled heavily.
I looked at Rebecca.
She nodded.
“Which embryo was used first?”
He did not answer.
“Carter.”
“The female.”
I shut my eyes.
Hearing him say it was worse.
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
“You approved it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His breathing changed.
“It was the embryo the clinic recommended using first.”
That contradicted Jessica.
“Why?”
“Lauren, stop interrogating me like this.”
“Why did the clinic recommend her first?”
“Because the male embryo had a slightly stronger grading.”
That was plausible.
Perhaps true.
Perhaps convenient.
I remembered our original reports.
I did not remember the grading difference.
“Do you have that recommendation in writing?”
Silence.
“Carter?”
“No.”
“Then why did Jessica tell me you wanted to use the female embryo first in case the transfer failed?”
He swore under his breath.
“You should not be talking to her.”
“You should not have used my embryos.”
“They were ours.”
The words hit with astonishing force.
“Ours.”
“Yes.”
“You told me they were destroyed.”
He inhaled.
“That was Dad’s idea.”
Rebecca’s eyes sharpened.
I nearly missed it.
“What was his idea?”
“The letter.”
There.
An admission.
“The fake destruction letter?”
“I didn’t say fake.”
“Was it real?”
Silence.
“Was it issued by Oakfield?”
“No.”
My fingers went numb.
Rebecca was writing quickly.
“Who created it?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who gave it to you?”
“Dad.”
Richard.
The origin of the deception.
Not speculation now.
Carter had admitted it.
“And you gave it to me knowing it wasn’t from Oakfield?”
“I knew the embryos were still stored.”
“So yes.”
“Lauren, I was under enormous pressure.”
“From whom?”
“My father.”
“For what?”
“You know how he is about the family.”
“No. Say it.”
Silence.
“Say what he wanted.”
“A grandson.”
There it was.
I looked at Rebecca.
She stared back.
“Did your father tell you to preserve the male embryo?”
“Yes.”
“Did he tell you to lie to me?”
“He said there was no point upsetting you if you’d already decided you didn’t want more children.”
“That wasn’t his decision.”
“I know that now.”
I laughed softly.
“Now?”
“I handled it badly.”
“Badly.”
“I’m trying to fix this.”
“You used both of my remaining embryos with your mistress.”
“She wasn’t my mistress then.”
The sentence came out automatically.
Then he stopped.
I froze.
Rebecca did too.
“What did you just say?”
Carter said nothing.
“You said she wasn’t your mistress then.”
“I meant—”
“You’re correcting the label, not the timeline.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“When did your relationship with Jessica begin?”
“Lauren.”
“I have a photograph from twenty-two months ago.”
Silence.
Long enough.
“Who gave you that?”
“That matters more than whether it’s true?”
“No.”
“Then when?”
He exhaled.
“About two years ago.”
I closed my eyes.
Another lie removed.
“Before the consulting contract.”
“Yes.”
“Before you told me we were rebuilding our marriage.”
“Yes.”
“Before you started pushing me to transfer more control of Sterling assets into your name.”
His silence told me I had touched something.
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“No. That was different.”
Rebecca typed rapidly.
ASK WHY FINANCIAL CONTROL.
I repeated the question.
“Why were you trying to move assets then?”
“It had nothing to do with the embryos.”
“Then answer.”
“Dad wanted the succession structure simplified.”
“For the male heir?”
Silence.
“Carter.”
“You’re making this sound worse than it was.”
That phrase.
Always.
As though reality was unfair to him because it refused to accept his preferred description.
I lowered my voice.
“Did you and your father restructure assets in anticipation of a son conceived from my embryo?”
His answer was almost inaudible.
“Yes.”
Rebecca leaned back.
The call had moved beyond family betrayal.
Money was now tied directly to motive.
I asked one final question.
“Did Jessica forge my signature?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you knew I had not signed.”
Silence.
I repeated it.
“You knew I had not signed the transfer authorization.”
“Yes.”
The room became very still.
Carter had spent the previous twenty-four hours trying to place the forged consent on Jessica.
Now he had admitted the essential fact.
He knew my consent did not exist.
I ended the call.
Rebecca immediately said, “Do not answer him again without counsel.”
I nodded.
My phone began ringing almost instantly.
I declined it.
A message appeared from Carter.
Please don’t use that call against me.
I took a screenshot.
Then another email notification arrived.
Sender: Rebecca Shaw.
Subject: FOUND IN CARTER’S DISCOVERY ARCHIVE.
She had forwarded an old email recovered from the divorce production.
Carter to Richard.
Dated thirteen months earlier.
The message was brief.
Jessica has agreed to proceed. We’ll use the female first and preserve the male if the initial transfer fails. Lauren cannot know until we have certainty.
I stared at the sentence.
No doctor recommendation.
No confusion.
No deception by Jessica.
Carter had planned the order himself.
Female first.
Male preserved.
Lauren cannot know.
The email ended with a final line.
Once the boy is secured, we can finalize the succession changes before the divorce becomes public.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
The divorce had not merely followed the embryo transfers.
Carter had already been planning it.
The son, the trust, the affair, the financial restructuring, and the end of our marriage had all been parts of the same plan.
Click here to continue reading: PART 9: The Email Linking Carter’s Divorce Plan to the Male Embryo Forced Me to Ask What Else He Had Hidden in Our Settlement
Five Minutes After Our Marriage Ended, Carter Said Something That Made Leaving With Our Daughters the Only Choice
Part 8 of 35
