The word remaining stayed with me.
I couldn't stop thinking about it.
Remaining embryos.
Plural.
After everything Julian had done, there was still something else he had been trying to control.
“How many?” I asked.
Daniel looked at the record again.
“Two.”
I stared at him.
“Two embryos?”
“Yes.”
“They still exist?”
“According to this record, yes.”
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Two possibilities of the family Julian had told me I could never have.
Two pieces of our lives that had survived while he lied to me.
Then Daniel continued.
“The record says your husband requested that the embryos be destroyed.”
My chair scraped against the floor as I stood.
“He wanted them destroyed?”
“He signed a request.”
“Did the clinic do it?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Why not?”
“The request required your authorization.”
A strange calm came over me.
It was the first time since learning the truth that something felt entirely clear.
He had tried to erase the evidence.
He had tried to take one embryo and turn it into a child for another woman.
Then he had tried to destroy what remained.
All while telling me the problem was my body.
Daniel placed a hand flat on the desk.
“This changes things.”
“How?”
“It establishes intent.”
“Intent to do what?”
“To control your reproductive material without your consent.”
I sat again.
“Can he still access them?”
“Not now.”
“Are they protected?”
“I've requested an immediate legal hold.”
I looked at the documents.
“Do whatever you need to.”
Daniel nodded.
Then he asked, “Have you spoken to Julian today?”
“No.”
“Has he contacted you?”
I checked my phone.
There were three missed calls.
Two messages.
The first said:
We need to talk.
The second came ten minutes later.
Please don't do anything you'll regret.
I showed Daniel.
He read them carefully.
“He knows something.”
“How?”
“Maybe the clinic contacted him.”
“Or Sophie.”
“Possibly.”
I stared at the screen.
“Should I answer?”
“No.”
I put the phone away.
Later that afternoon, Daniel and I returned to the clinic.
A senior administrator met us in a private conference room.
She looked uncomfortable.
“I want to apologize.”
“For what?”
“For what happened under our supervision.”
I remained silent.
She slid a file toward Daniel.
“We have identified several irregularities.”
“Such as?”
“Unauthorized access to your records. Changes to communication preferences. A transfer authorization entered under an administrator's credentials.”
“Marta?”
The woman nodded.
“Yes.”
My stomach turned.
“How long did she work here?”
“Four years.”
“And during those four years, she had access to my records?”
“Yes.”
“Could she access my embryo records?”
“She had administrative access.”
Daniel leaned forward.
“Who approved the transfer?”
The administrator looked at the file.
“Marta entered the request. The final authorization was processed under a physician's account.”
“Which physician?”
She hesitated.
“We are investigating.”
I understood the hesitation.
Someone else was involved.
Maybe someone had been paid.
Maybe someone had been threatened.
Maybe both.
“Was Julian present when the transfer happened?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he had been.
He hadn't been standing outside the clinic waiting for me to recover from disappointment.
He had been arranging the transfer.
The administrator continued.
“There is one more issue.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“The communication record says you were informed that the procedure had been canceled.”
“I was.”
“By whom?”
I looked at Daniel.
He answered.
“Her husband.”
The administrator nodded.
“But there is no medical cancellation note.”
The room went silent.
“So the clinic never canceled it.”
“No.”
I stared at the table.
Julian had lied before we even left the building.
I remembered him driving me home.
His hand on my knee.
His soft voice.
We'll try again.
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I asked, “Why did nobody call me?”
The administrator lowered her eyes.
“Your communication preferences had been changed.”
“By whom?”
“Marta.”
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
My own sister-in-law had changed my medical records.
My husband had signed the transfer.
His mother had arranged the custody agreement.
And somewhere along the way, they had convinced themselves that I was an obstacle to be managed.
Not a wife.
Not a daughter.
Not a person.
An obstacle.
Daniel closed the file.
“We'll need certified copies of everything.”
“You'll have them.”
“And preserve the originals.”
“Yes.”
When we left, I stood on the sidewalk and watched cars pass.
Six years earlier, I had left this same clinic believing my body had failed me.
Now I knew the failure had never been mine.
That realization didn't bring immediate relief.
It brought grief.
Grief for the woman I had been.
She had spent years apologizing for something she hadn't done.
That night I stayed at Natalie's house.
I didn't want to return home.
Natalie made tea and sat across from me at the kitchen table.
“Do you want to talk?”
“Not really.”
She nodded.
“You don't have to.”
I looked at the steam rising from the cup.
“I keep thinking about the day they told me the transfer failed.”
Natalie waited.
“I cried for hours.”
“I remember.”
“Julian held me.”
“I remember.”
“He knew the whole time.”
Natalie reached across the table.
“You don't have to protect him anymore.”
I looked at her.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I considered that.
“I'm trying.”
The next morning, Daniel called.
“Sophie has agreed to cooperate fully.”
“What does that mean?”
“She'll provide the originals of every document she has.”
“Good.”
“And she's willing to testify about Helga's involvement.”
I sat upright.
“She'll testify?”
“Yes.”
“That changes everything.”
“It could.”
“What about the baby?”
“We're moving forward with emergency orders.”
I exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“There is one concern.”
“What?”
“Julian has hired his own attorney.”
I wasn't surprised.
“Who?”
Daniel gave me the name.
A prominent family-law attorney known for aggressive custody disputes.
“He's going to claim Sophie is unstable and that you are emotionally unfit because of your fertility history.”
I felt my stomach turn.
“My fertility history?”
“They may try to argue that the child should remain with Julian because he has been the intended parent.”
I stared at the wall.
“They stole my embryo.”
“I know.”
“But they're going to use the consequences of that theft against me.”
“Yes.”
For the first time, anger replaced grief.
“Then let them.”
Daniel was silent.
“I want every record.”
“We'll get them.”
“I want every payment.”
“We have them.”
“I want the clinic's access logs.”
“We've requested them.”
“And the trust documents?”
“Being examined.”
I stood.
“Then let's finish this.”
That afternoon, Julian came to Natalie's house.
I saw him through the window.
He stood at the curb alone.
No flowers.
No suit jacket.
Just a dark shirt and tired eyes.
Natalie looked at me.
“You don't have to see him.”
“I know.”
I walked outside anyway.
I stopped several feet away.
“What do you want?”
“I need to explain.”
“You already did.”
“I didn't explain everything.”
“You told me your family wanted my father's money.”
He swallowed.
“That wasn't the whole story.”
“Then tell me.”
He looked toward the house.
“Can we go somewhere private?”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“Speak.”
He lowered his voice.
“My mother wanted an heir.”
“You mean a grandchild.”
“Yes.”
“She had two choices. Respect our marriage or destroy it.”
“She thought you couldn't have children.”
“She knew I was undergoing treatment.”
“She believed the treatments were never going to work.”
I stared at him.
“So she decided to use my embryo.”
His face tightened.
“She thought it was the only way.”
“And you agreed.”
He said nothing.
“That isn't an answer.”
“Yes.”
The word was barely audible.
I nodded.
“At least you're finally telling the truth.”
“I didn't know how to stop it.”
“You could have told me.”
“I was afraid.”
“Of your mother?”
“Yes.”
I almost laughed.
“You were afraid of your mother, so you gave her my child?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“I thought I could fix everything.”
“You had six years.”
“I know.”
“You could have stopped at any point.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me the transfer happened.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me Sophie was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“You could have told me you were having an affair.”
“I know.”
Every answer was the same.
Too late.
Then I asked the question that had been waiting inside me.
“Why did you try to destroy the remaining embryos?”
He looked away.
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
He closed his eyes.
“My mother said they were a liability.”
A liability.
Our children reduced to paperwork.
“What did she mean?”
“She said if you discovered them, everything would fall apart.”
I stared at him.
“So she wanted them gone.”
“Yes.”
“And you agreed.”
He nodded.
I felt tears come.
Not for him.
For the life that had been manipulated by people who thought money made them entitled to decide who deserved to be a parent.
“Leave,” I said.
“Claire.”
“Leave.”
He didn't move.
I raised my voice.
“Leave.”
He finally turned.
Before he walked away, he looked back.
“I am sorry.”
I watched him cross the street.
I didn't believe him.
Not because he wasn't capable of regret.
But because regret was not the same thing as responsibility.
That evening, Daniel called again.
“We received the clinic access logs.”
My heart started beating faster.
“What did they show?”
“Marta accessed your file twenty-three times.”
“And Julian?”
“Seven.”
“Helga?”
“None directly.”
I frowned.
“Then how was she involved?”
Daniel paused.
“We found something in the financial records.”
“What?”
“Payments to Marta.”
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“Enough to establish a pattern.”
“From Helga?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes.
The family had left fingerprints everywhere.
They had simply assumed I would never look closely enough to see them.
Click here to continue reading: PART 7: Marta’s Records Revealed How the Family Built Their Plan Around My Inheritance Long Before Sophie Ever Became Pregnant
The Toast My Husband Made in German Exposed a Secret He Never Expected His Wife to Understand
Part 6 of 26
