Chapter 6 - Phase OneI confronted Dr. Miriam Cole the next morning.
She didn't look surprised to see me.
That frightened me more than anything else.
She was sitting in her office, calm and perfectly composed.
“Close the door, Claire.”
I did.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
The direct answer stunned me.
“You knew about Project Orchid.”
“Yes.”
“You knew I was the carrier.”
“Yes.”
“You signed documents connected to my family.”
“Yes.”
I stared at her.
“How long?”
She folded her hands.
“Two years.”
My anger rose so quickly I couldn't control my voice.
“Two years?”
“I tried to stop it.”
“You witnessed the contract.”
“Only because I was required to preserve evidence.”
“What evidence?”
She looked at the camera mounted in the corner.
Then she lowered her voice.
“Do you remember your first warning about EverBloom?”
“The billing anomalies.”
“That wasn't the beginning.”
I stepped closer.
“What was?”
She opened a locked drawer.
Inside was a thick file.
She pushed it toward me.
“The beginning was a patient death.”
My stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
“A woman who underwent treatment through EverBloom.”
“Why isn't this in our review?”
“Because her death was attributed to complications.”
“And you don't believe that?”
“I believe the medical record was altered.”
She opened the file.
The woman's name was Elena Brooks.
Thirty-four.
Healthy.
No significant medical history.
She had undergone fertility treatment.
Then died unexpectedly.
The official cause involved a rare thrombotic complication.
But the toxicology results suggested something else.
She had received medications at doses that didn't match the prescribed protocol.
I looked up.
“Someone overdosed her.”
“Not necessarily.”
“You said the record was altered.”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
She hesitated.
“EverBloom's medical network.”
I kept reading.
Elena had been enrolled in a tissue-collection protocol.
The same type of protocol referenced in Project Orchid.
“Was she part of Project Orchid?”
“No.”
“Then why tell me?”
“Because she had something else in common with you.”
I looked at her.
“She was a donor match.”
Silence.
“She had the same genetic profile as the Bennett line.”
I felt dizzy.
“How many women?”
“Seven.”
“Seven what?”
“Seven women were approached over five years.”
“For surrogacy?”
“Under different descriptions.”
I looked at the file.
“Approached by EverBloom?”
“Yes.”
“And what happened?”
“Five refused.”
“One accepted.”
“Elena.”
“And the seventh?”
Miriam's eyes met mine.
“Your sister.”
My blood ran cold.
“Vanessa?”
“She wasn't approached as a surrogate.”
“Then as what?”
“A recipient.”
I closed the file.
“What does that mean?”
Miriam stood.
“Vanessa was selected because her embryos could not be produced from her own eggs. The clinic knew that. They also knew your genetic line was compatible.”
“But why did they need me?”
“Because they needed a carrier whose genetic background could support a specific implantation protocol.”
“So the embryo was designed.”
“Not exactly.”
She pulled out a diagram.
The process was more complex than I expected.
Donor material.
Genetic screening.
Embryonic development.
Transfer.
Tissue banking.
The baby would carry specific traits the company considered commercially valuable for research.
I looked at the diagram.
“This is legal?”
“Parts of it.”
“And the rest?”
“Gray.”
“Gray.”
“Meaning they built the contracts to keep regulators from seeing the whole picture.”
My hands shook.
“Then why involve my family?”
“Because you were the easiest person to pressure.”
That sentence hurt.
Not because it was cruel.
Because it was true.
Miriam continued.
“Your father was offered compensation to cooperate.”
“How much?”
She gave me a number.
I stared.
It was more money than he had ever earned in several years.
“And Vanessa?”
“She was promised the child.”
“And Grant?”
“Consulting fees.”
I swallowed.
“Does Vanessa know the full plan?”
“I don't think so.”
“Does my father?”
“Yes.”
“And my mother?”
“She knew enough.”
I stepped back.
My own family had sold access to me.
Maybe not literally.
But close enough.
Then I saw one final document.
It was a payment authorization.
Recipient:
James Bennett.
My father.
Amount:
$50,000.
Status:
Paid.
Date:
Three months before my sister's second IVF cycle.
I stared at Miriam.
“What was he paid for?”
She didn't answer.
I already knew the question that mattered.
“What did Phase One involve?”
Miriam's face tightened.
“Your father signed consent.”
“For what?”
She looked at me.
“For genetic screening of his biological daughter.”
I froze.
“Which daughter?”
Miriam slowly turned the page.
A patient ID appeared.
Not mine.
Vanessa's.
Then another.
My name.
The dates overlapped.
Vanessa's failed IVF.
My secret genetic test.
EverBloom's donor program.
And suddenly the timeline became clear.
They hadn't discovered me by accident.
They had been looking for me.
For years.
Before Easter.
Before the contract.
Before I ever knew there was a reason to look over my shoulder.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
You are asking the wrong questions.
Another message followed.
Find the original adoption record.
Then:
The woman you think is your mother isn't.
I looked at Miriam.
She had gone pale.
“Who sent that?”
May you like
She whispered:
“Someone who wants you to find out.”
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