Chapter 5 - THE BABY THAT SHOULD NOT EXIST
Emma stared at the ultrasound until the edges blurred.
If Dominic had been chemically sterilized three years earlier, then her pregnancy should have been impossible.
Unless Dr. Porter was wrong.
Or unless the baby was not Dominic’s.
The second possibility made Emma laugh bitterly.
There had been no one else.
Not once.
Not emotionally.
Not physically.
For five years, she had been absurdly, painfully faithful to a man who would not speak to her.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
Dr. Porter’s voice was careful.
“The drug used was experimental. The intended effect was suppression of fertility.”
“Permanent?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Then why did it damage his hearing?”
“Dose interaction.”
Emma stood.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Margaret Moretti is trying to locate me.”
“Why?”
“I have records.”
“What records?”
“Proof of what she authorized.”
Emma closed her eyes.
“Where are you?”
“I’m not telling you over the phone.”
“Then why call?”
“Because I saw the billing code.”
Emma froze.
“What billing code?”
“Your pregnancy.”
“How?”
“I still have access to archived family insurance records.”
Emma’s voice turned cold.
“So everyone can see my medical information except me?”
“No.”
Dr. Porter sounded ashamed.
“I should never have looked.”
“Yet you did.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Margaret once told me that if Emma Moretti ever conceived, I was to notify her immediately.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“What?”
“She gave that instruction two years ago.”
Emma put a hand over her stomach.
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
Then Dr. Porter added, “But I think the answer involves Dominic’s father.”
Emma frowned.
“Vincent Moretti?”
“Yes.”
Vincent had died four years before the marriage.
Emma knew him mostly through photographs.
Handsome.
Severe.
Respected.
Feared.
“What does he have to do with me?”
Dr. Porter hesitated.
“I don’t know enough to say over the phone.”
Emma nearly screamed.
“Then stop calling me with half-truths.”
“You’re right.”
A pause.
“I’ll send you an address.”
Thirty minutes later, Emma drove to an old medical office outside Evanston.
Hannah came with her.
Dr. Porter met them through the rear entrance.
She was in her sixties.
Gray hair.
Tired eyes.
She locked the door behind them.
“I’m sorry.”
Emma folded her arms.
“For which part?”
“Most of it.”
Dr. Porter opened a safe.
Inside was a thick file.
Dominic Moretti - confidential.
“He came to us after developing sudden auditory loss.”
“You caused it.”
“We caused part of it.”
Emma’s jaw tightened.
“Explain.”
“Margaret wanted his fertility suppressed because she believed Dominic was about to marry the wrong woman.”
Emma frowned.
“Who?”
“Vanessa.”
Emma stared.
“Dominic was engaged to Vanessa?”
“No.”
“But they were involved?”
“Years before you.”
That made sense.
Too much sense.
Margaret had wanted to prevent Vanessa from getting pregnant.
So she interfered with Dominic’s fertility.
Then Dominic married Emma.
Margaret did not reverse the plan.
Instead she interfered with Emma’s fertility too.
Emma felt sick.
“She didn’t want him to have children at all.”
Dr. Porter nodded.
“That’s what I eventually realized.”
“Why?”
Dr. Porter removed another folder.
Vincent Moretti - private genetic consultation.
Emma opened it.
There were blood tests.
Hereditary screening.
A note.
PATERNITY DISCREPANCY.
She looked up.
“What is this?”
“Dominic was tested after his father became ill.”
“For what?”
“A genetic condition.”
“And?”
“Dominic did not carry the family marker.”
Emma stared.
“What does that mean?”
“Vincent Moretti was not Dominic’s biological father.”
Emma’s mouth went dry.
“Does Dominic know?”
“No.”
“Did Margaret?”
“Yes.”
Everything shifted.
Margaret’s obsession with no heirs.
Her need for control.
Her fear of pregnancy.
Not because she hated babies.
Because a child could expose something.
“What happens if Dominic has a child?”
Dr. Porter said quietly, “Genetic testing.”
Emma looked down at her stomach.
A baby could reveal that Dominic’s bloodline was not Moretti blood.
A scandal Margaret had protected for decades.
Emma’s phone buzzed.
A message from Dominic.
I found something else. My father’s old safe was emptied yesterday.
Emma typed:
By who?
His response came immediately.
My mother.
Then another.
She took one file.
Emma looked at Dr. Porter.
“What file?”
Dr. Porter went pale.
Before she could answer, the front window shattered.
Hannah screamed.
A stone rolled across the floor.
Wrapped around it was a note.
Emma opened it.
Four words.
YOUR BABY IS NOT SAFE.
May you like
Below them:
Neither is Dominic.
