Chapter 3 - The Sample That Was Supposed to Be Destroyed
Julian did not deny knowing Bellweather.
He denied knowing Lily.
“I’ve met your daughter twice.”
“I know.”
“I have never been alone with you.”
“I know.”
“If Daniel thinks—”
“He doesn’t.”
Claire closed her eyes.
“Julian, years ago did you store sperm at Bellweather?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Daniel stood.
Margaret gripped the back of a chair.
Claire forced herself to continue.
“Why?”
“I had testicular cancer when I was twenty-two.”
Claire had heard about the cancer.
She had never heard about fertility preservation.
Julian continued.
“Before treatment, my doctor recommended banking samples.”
“What happened to them?”
“I ordered them destroyed.”
“When?”
“Eleven years ago.”
Claire looked at Daniel.
He had gone pale.
“Do you have proof?”
“I did.”
“Did?”
“Bellweather sent confirmation.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Maybe.”
Julian’s voice hardened.
“Why are you asking?”
Claire looked toward Lily.
She could not say it casually.
“I ran DNA testing.”
Silence.
“Lily is biologically mine.”
Julian said nothing.
“She is not biologically Daniel’s.”
Still nothing.
“But she is biologically Margaret’s granddaughter.”
The line remained silent so long Claire checked whether the call had disconnected.
Then Julian whispered:
“No.”
“We need formal testing.”
“No.”
“Julian—”
“No.”
His breathing became audible.
“My father.”
Claire stared.
“What?”
Julian’s voice changed into something she had never heard from him.
Fear mixed with rage.
“My father used to say my samples were ‘family insurance.’”
Margaret covered her mouth.
Daniel whispered:
“He said that to me too.”
Claire looked between them.
Julian heard.
“Daniel is there?”
“Yes.”
“Put me on speaker.”
Claire did.
Julian’s voice filled the room.
“You knew Dad talked about my samples?”
Daniel answered quietly.
“Yes.”
“Did you use them?”
“I didn’t know they were yours.”
“That is not what I asked.”
Daniel struggled.
“I signed an authorization allowing Bellweather to use donor material.”
“What donor material?”
“I was told it would be genetically screened and compatible.”
Julian laughed.
“You mean Whitmore.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“I didn’t know.”
“You never asked?”
“I trusted Dad.”
Julian’s anger exploded.
“You trusted the man who cut me out of the company because I refused to sign his succession agreement?”
Margaret flinched.
Claire asked:
“What succession agreement?”
Julian fell silent.
Daniel looked at his mother.
Margaret answered reluctantly.
“Richard wanted both boys’ descendants tied to the voting trust.”
“Meaning?”
“He didn’t want family shares passing outside the Whitmore line.”
Claire almost laughed at the absurdity.
“So he cared about blood so much that he may have stolen Julian’s genetic material to manufacture an heir?”
Margaret whispered, “Don’t say that.”
“Why? Because it sounds ugly?”
Daniel sat down.
Julian’s voice became colder.
“I want a lawyer before I test anything.”
Claire understood.
“You should.”
“And Claire?”
“Yes?”
“If Lily is biologically mine, I am not coming to claim your child.”
Something in Claire loosened.
“Thank you.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
“I did not consent to this.”
“Neither did I.”
For the first time they were aligned.
Two people whose bodies might have been used to serve someone else’s idea of family.
Julian said he would fly east after speaking with counsel.
When the call ended, Margaret walked away.
Claire stopped her.
“Where are you going?”
“To Richard’s study.”
“Why?”
“There may be files.”
Daniel frowned.
“Mom, Dad’s study was emptied after probate.”
“Not everything.”
They followed her through the mansion.
Greyhaven had belonged to the Whitmores for four generations.
Margaret opened a hidden cabinet behind Richard’s library shelves.
Inside were estate documents.
Old correspondence.
A locked black case.
Daniel stared.
“You knew about this?”
“I knew he kept private papers.”
“You never opened them?”
“He told me not to.”
Claire almost laughed.
Apparently obedience survived death.
The black case required a key.
Margaret had one on her personal ring.
Inside were Bellweather invoices.
Daniel stood motionless.
Payments from the Whitmore Family Foundation.
Not medical bills.
“Research grants.”
One for $750,000.
Another for $1.2 million.
The clinic had received millions from Richard.
Claire looked at Margaret.
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
She sounded genuine.
Another file was marked:
JW-114
Julian Whitmore.
Claire opened it.
Most pages were missing.
One remained.
Specimen retention authorization — amended.
The signature looked like Julian’s.
Claire photographed it.
She sent it to him.
His response came seconds later.
THAT IS NOT MY SIGNATURE.
Daniel whispered:
“Oh God.”
Then Claire noticed a handwritten note clipped behind the form.
Richard’s handwriting.
Daniel must never know donor identity. Claire must never be told unless medically necessary. G.S. will handle.
Claire looked at Daniel.
“G.S.”
Margaret whispered:
“Graham Selby.”
The family lawyer.
The man who had called within minutes of Claire revealing the DNA results.
Claire’s phone vibrated again.
Julian.
A photograph of his original destruction confirmation.
Bellweather had certified his samples were destroyed eleven years ago.
Claire compared dates.
Three years later, Richard’s file listed JW-114 as active.
Someone had lied to Julian.
May you like
Someone had kept his sample.
And five years after that, Claire became pregnant.
