Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO CHOSE THE FATHER
Richard Whitmore had selected the biological father of Vanessa’s babies.
That sentence sounded insane.
It also explained why a billionaire had been so desperate to finalize my divorce.
I met Dr. Kline in Boston two days later.
Daniel came with me.
Rachel wanted to.
I told her no.
Someone needed to remain outside the Whitmore orbit in case everything went wrong.
Dr. Kline was fifty-eight, careful, and frightened.
He chose a private meeting room in a law office.
“I left because I became uncomfortable with the clinic’s practices,” he said.
“What practices?”
“Family influence.”
“Richard.”
“Yes.”
“Did he alter medical decisions?”
“He attempted to.”
“Attempted?”
Dr. Kline looked ashamed.
“Sometimes successfully.”
I folded my hands tightly.
“Tell me about Vanessa.”
“She came in under another name.”
“What name?”
“Vanessa Cole was the public identity. Her treatment records used Vanessa Hart.”
“Why?”
“I was told discretion.”
“Who told you?”
“Richard.”
I glanced at Daniel.
Dr. Kline continued.
“She underwent ovarian stimulation, egg retrieval, fertilization, and embryo transfer.”
“How many embryos?”
“Three.”
“And all implanted.”
“Yes.”
“Who was the sperm donor?”
“I never saw the original identity.”
“But you said it wasn’t Julian.”
“I personally collected Mr. Whitmore’s samples during his fertility evaluation. The donor batch used for Ms. Cole did not match his storage code.”
My stomach tightened.
“So Richard knew.”
“Yes.”
“Did Vanessa?”
“I assume so.”
That hurt differently.
Vanessa hadn’t accidentally trapped Julian.
She may have entered his life already pregnant with someone else’s children.
“Why would Richard do that?”
Dr. Kline shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
I hesitated.
“What about me?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“What about you?”
“I was treated at your clinic.”
“I remember.”
“Was anything done without my consent?”
Silence.
My body went cold.
“Dr. Kline.”
He lowered his eyes.
“Your case was unusual.”
“How?”
“Your fertility indicators were better than you were told.”
I stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“You were not infertile.”
I felt like I had been struck.
For three years, Margaret had pitied me.
Richard had suggested specialists.
Julian and I had fought because I blamed myself.
Every test.
Every injection.
Every month of shame.
“What was wrong with me?”
“Very little.”
“Then why didn’t I get pregnant?”
Dr. Kline looked at Daniel before answering.
“Because several cycles were medically suppressed.”
I stood.
“What?”
“Medication you were given to support ovulation would, in certain combinations, suppress it.”
I could hear blood rushing in my ears.
“Who prescribed that?”
“Another physician.”
“Under whose direction?”
Dr. Kline’s silence became the answer.
Richard.
I sat down slowly.
“He prevented me from becoming pregnant.”
“At least temporarily.”
“Why?”
“I never knew.”
Daniel asked, “Do you have records?”
“Copies.”
Dr. Kline opened his briefcase.
“I kept them because I knew eventually someone would ask.”
Inside were treatment notes.
Lab results.
Medication logs.
My name.
My body.
My marriage.
Manipulated through paper and chemistry.
Then I noticed a file labeled Bennett Genetic Screening.
“What is that?”
Dr. Kline’s face changed.
“I wasn’t sure whether to show you.”
“Show me.”
He hesitated.
Then opened it.
My genetic profile had been analyzed extensively.
Not just standard fertility screening.
Hereditary conditions.
Bloodline markers.
Chromosomal compatibility.
“This is not normal,” Daniel said.
“No,” Dr. Kline agreed.
“Why was it done?”
“Richard requested it.”
My stomach turned.
“Why would he care about my genetics?”
Dr. Kline looked directly at me.
“Because your marriage to Julian wasn’t originally arranged for love.”
I laughed once.
“We met at a charity event.”
“No.”
His expression remained grave.
“You met because Richard made sure Julian would be there.”
I stared.
“What are you saying?”
“Richard had been tracking you before you ever met his son.”
The room became very still.
“Why?”
Dr. Kline opened another page.
At the top was an old medical research project.
WHITMORE-BENNETT HEREDITARY COMPATIBILITY STUDY.
I read the title twice.
“Bennett?”
My maiden name.
Dr. Kline nodded.
“Your family and the Whitmores have a medical history together.”
“What kind?”
He looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Your grandfather participated in a genetic research program financed by Julian’s grandfather.”
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
“Because the Whitmore men carry a rare hereditary disorder.”
I thought of Julian’s infertility.
His father’s obsession with heirs.
Vanessa’s triplet boys.
My pregnancy.
“What disorder?”
Dr. Kline answered.
“One that causes progressive male infertility.”
Suddenly Richard’s desperation made sense.
He needed heirs.
Biological Whitmore heirs.
But Vanessa’s children weren’t Julian’s.
So why did Richard call them heirs?
Before I could ask, Dr. Kline turned another page.
A donor code.
WH-01.
Daniel frowned.
“What is that?”
Dr. Kline looked at me.
“The sperm donor used to create Vanessa’s embryos.”
“Who is WH-01?”
He hesitated.
Then said:
May you like
“Richard Whitmore.”
My husband’s father had fathered Vanessa’s triplets.
