Peter’s daughter was twenty-three years old.
Her name was Lena Fischer.
She lived in Freiburg.
The age alone told me Peter must have fathered her before his death, probably without ever knowing.
Sophie had never heard her name.
Neither had Klaus.
Helga, however, had.
That became clear within an hour.
The genealogical match came from a German medical registry where Lena had consented to limited familial matching after being treated for a cardiac condition.
Her DNA matched Peter’s preserved specimen at the expected parent-child level.
It also matched Klaus as a biological grandfather.
And Noah as a half sibling.
When German authorities contacted Lena, she asked one question.
“Is this about Helga Bennett?”
Ruiz arranged a secure video call.
I sat beside Sophie in Noah’s hospital room while Lena appeared on a laptop.
She had dark hair cut bluntly at her shoulders and eyes so similar to Peter’s in the old photographs that Sophie began crying before Lena said hello.
Lena noticed.
“You are Sophie.”
“Yes.”
“My father’s sister.”
Sophie pressed her fingers to her lips.
“Yes.”
Lena looked down.
“I always wondered if you knew.”
“I didn’t know you existed.”
“I thought so.”
“Did Peter know?”
Lena shook her head.
“My mother never told him.”
“Why?”
“They were young. It was brief.”
“What was her name?”
“Johanna Fischer.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
“I remember Johanna.”
Lena’s expression softened.
“She remembers you too.”
“Why didn’t she tell us after Peter died?”
“She tried.”
“What?”
“She wrote to your mother.”
Sophie stared.
“Anneliese never said anything.”
“The letter came back unopened.”
Sophie looked stricken.
“My mother moved after Peter died.”
Lena nodded.
“Then years passed.”
“How does Helga fit into this?” I asked.
Lena’s expression changed immediately.
“She contacted my mother when I was sixteen.”
“Why?”
“She said she represented Peter’s biological family.”
“Did she tell you Klaus was Peter’s father?”
“Eventually.”
“Did she tell Klaus about you?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she made us promise not to contact him.”
That sounded like Helga.
“What did she want?”
“My medical records.”
I looked at Noah.
“Because of your heart condition?”
“Yes.”
“What condition?”
“A ventricular septal defect repaired when I was a baby, and later an arrhythmia.”
The similarity chilled me.
Noah’s defect might not be random.
“Helga knew Peter carried a cardiac mutation.”
Lena nodded.
“She asked for genetic testing.”
“Did you give it?”
“My mother did.”
“When?”
“Seven years ago.”
Seven years.
The same period Helga and Julian accessed my father’s safe-deposit box.
Nothing in this story stayed isolated.
“What happened after testing?”
“Helga visited us.”
“In Germany?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“That Peter had been cheated out of his place in the Bennett family.”
Sophie closed her eyes.
“She always talks about people like positions on a family tree.”
Lena nodded.
“She said I was the rightful continuation of Peter’s line.”
My stomach tightened.
“What did she ask you to do?”
“Nothing then.”
“Later?”
“She began sending money.”
“Did you accept it?”
“My mother did for medical bills.”
Again.
Money as a leash.
“What does this have to do with my embryo?”
Lena looked confused.
“What embryo?”
I explained.
My remaining embryo had disappeared from North River.
The transport trail ended at Mercer’s Canadian property.
A message implied it was being taken to where Peter belonged.
Germany.
Lena became pale.
“There is a clinic.”
“What clinic?”
“Outside Freiburg.”
“What about it?”
“Helga took me there last year.”
Sophie leaned toward the screen.
“Why?”
“She said I should preserve eggs.”
My pulse accelerated.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t trust her.”
“What was the clinic called?”
“Rheinwald Reproductive Institute.”
Ruiz relayed the name to German authorities.
Lena continued.
“Helga became angry when I refused.”
“What did she say?”
“That I was wasting Peter’s bloodline.”
There it was again.
Bloodline.
Helga’s private religion.
“Did she ever mention me?”
Lena hesitated.
“Yes.”
My skin tightened.
“What did she say?”
“She showed me a photograph.”
“Of me?”
“You and Julian.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“What did she say?”
“That your family owed Peter a child.”
Sophie made a sound of disgust.
Lena looked ashamed.
“I didn’t understand.”
“You had nothing to do with it.”
“She said Samuel Hartwell had protected evidence but failed to save Peter.”
“That was why she used my egg.”
“I think so.”
The pattern was becoming clear.
Helga did not see Noah as a child created by theft.
She saw him as a correction.
Peter plus Samuel Hartwell’s daughter.
Two families joined through a baby neither genetic parent had consented to create.
“What did she say about Julian?”
Lena’s mouth tightened.
“That he was temporary.”
The word struck me.
“Temporary how?”
“She said Julian believed he was the Bennett heir because nobody had taught him the difference between being useful and being worthy.”
Even her own son had been a tool.
“What about Marta?”
“She called her obedient.”
Sophie gave a bitter laugh.
“That may be the closest Helga gets to affection.”
Ruiz received a message.
German police had confirmed Rheinwald existed.
Small private fertility clinic.
Several regulatory violations.
One physician on staff had previously collaborated with Elaine Mercer.
“Is Mercer there?”
“Authorities are checking.”
“Can they search?”
“They’re seeking authorization.”
I hated legal time.
Warrants.
Jurisdictions.
International cooperation.
Every process existed for good reasons, yet the Bennetts had built their crimes in the spaces between systems.
“What could they do with my embryo there?”
Naomi answered.
“Transfer it to a carrier.”
“Without me?”
“That has never stopped them.”
“Who?”
We all looked at Lena.
She recoiled.
“No.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“I would never.”
“I know.”
Then Sophie said, “Maybe Helga doesn’t need Lena to agree.”
The room went silent.
Lena’s face changed.
“What do you mean?”
“Has Helga contacted you recently?”
“No.”
“Anyone from Rheinwald?”
Lena hesitated.
“A woman called two weeks ago.”
“Who?”
“She said the clinic needed follow-up bloodwork from my genetic screening.”
“Did you go?”
“Yes.”
“What did they do?”
“Blood draw. Ultrasound.”
“What kind of ultrasound?”
Lena became still.
“Pelvic.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why?”
“They said it was related to hormone markers.”
Sophie stood.
“No.”
Lena looked frightened.
“What?”
“Did they give you medication?”
“Vitamins.”
“What kind?”
“I don’t know.”
“Any injections?”
“No.”
“Pills?”
“Yes.”
“What pills?”
Lena retrieved a small white container from another room.
She held it toward the camera.
Ruiz photographed the label.
The prescription had been issued under another physician’s name.
A fertility specialist on Rheinwald’s staff.
Sophie whispered, “Those are estrogen.”
Lena stared at the bottle.
“For what?”
“To prepare the uterine lining.”
“No.”
Her face drained.
“No.”
I understood the plan.
Helga had failed to persuade Lena to preserve eggs.
So she had prepared Peter’s daughter to carry my remaining embryo.
An embryo genetically mine and Julian’s.
The symmetry was grotesque.
Peter’s son, Noah, carried by Sophie.
Julian’s child with me, carried by Peter’s daughter.
Helga was weaving families together like she had the right to arrange human beings on a chart.
“Stop taking them,” Sophie said.
Ruiz corrected her carefully.
“Do not change medication until a physician who knows your situation advises you. We’re getting German medical authorities involved immediately.”
Lena nodded, terrified.
“Could they transfer an embryo without telling me?”
“Not ordinarily.”
“But this isn’t ordinary.”
No.
It wasn’t.
German police reached Lena within forty minutes.
She was taken to a hospital.
Testing showed her endometrium had indeed been medically prepared for possible embryo transfer.
No procedure had yet occurred.
At least that was what ultrasound suggested.
My missing embryo was still somewhere else.
Rheinwald closed its doors when investigators arrived.
The clinic director claimed a scheduled maintenance shutdown.
Police obtained emergency authority to prevent removal of reproductive material.
But by the time they entered, one cryogenic transport vessel was missing.
Elaine Mercer’s name appeared on the export documentation.
Destination listed:
Prague.
Another jurisdiction.
Another delay.
Ruiz cursed softly.
“They’re moving it.”
“Why?”
“To stay ahead of warrants.”
“Where does this end?”
“When we find Mercer.”
My phone rang.
Unknown international number.
I answered with Ruiz listening.
A woman spoke.
“Mrs. Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“This is Elaine Mercer.”
Everyone in the room froze.
“Where is my embryo?”
“Safe.”
“I’ve heard that word from too many criminals.”
“I am not your enemy.”
“You allowed my embryo to be transferred into Sophie without consent.”
“I did not authorize that transfer.”
“You ran the clinic.”
“Marta and Vale manipulated records.”
“You knew something was wrong.”
Silence.
“Yes.”
“Then you hid it.”
“I was trying to protect North River.”
“From what?”
“Collapse.”
I almost laughed.
“You chose your clinic over patients.”
“I made mistakes.”
“Where is my embryo?”
“I need something first.”
“No.”
“You don’t know what Helga is capable of.”
“I know exactly.”
“No.”
Mercer’s voice dropped.
“Helga does not have the embryo.”
I looked at Ruiz.
“Then who does?”
“Julian.”
“That’s impossible. He was arrested in Canada before it disappeared.”
“He arranged the removal before he fled.”
“Vale?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Julian believed Helga had substituted Peter’s specimen into the embryo used for Sophie.”
“He was right.”
“He wanted the remaining embryo protected from her.”
“By stealing it from a court-ordered hold?”
“He didn’t trust the clinic.”
“He had good reason. He helped corrupt it.”
Mercer ignored that.
“Vale moved the embryo.”
“To you.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Julian had instructed me months ago.”
“So you were helping him.”
“I was trying to prevent Helga from taking it.”
“Where is it now?”
Mercer became silent.
“Dr. Mercer.”
“I lost control of the transport.”
My heart stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“The courier was intercepted outside Montreal.”
“By whom?”
“I don’t know.”
“The container reached your house.”
“Empty.”
The message had been planted.
The embryo had never reached Mercer.
“Who took it?”
“I think Helga arranged a second team.”
“From jail?”
“She arranged everything before jail.”
I closed my eyes.
Plan after plan.
Contingency behind contingency.
“Why Prague?”
“A false trail.”
“So the embryo could still be in North America.”
“Yes.”
“Or Germany.”
“Yes.”
“Or anywhere.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to throw the phone.
Ruiz asked Mercer to surrender.
She refused.
“I will when the embryo is found.”
“You are obstructing an international investigation.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t say.”
Then Mercer spoke to me again.
“Claire, there is something you need to understand about Julian.”
“I understand enough.”
“No.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“Julian did not preserve the second embryo because he wanted another child.”
“Then why?”
“He wanted to destroy it.”
I stopped.
“What?”
“He told Vale the embryo was evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“The original IVF cycle.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If that embryo is genetically tested, it proves something Julian has hidden since before your treatment began.”
My skin prickled.
“What?”
Mercer inhaled.
“Julian Bennett is sterile.”
The room went silent.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
“He created Rachel’s embryo.”
Mercer hesitated.
“That is what the records say.”
“What are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you the sperm used for Rachel may not be Julian’s either.”
My stomach turned.
“Then whose?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why would he pretend?”
“Because Klaus’s trust required a biological heir.”
“If Julian is sterile, he could never satisfy it.”
“Yes.”
“So everything he did—”
“Was built around hiding that fact.”
Mercer disconnected.
I looked at Naomi.
“If Julian is sterile, Noah was never going to be his biological child.”
“Correct.”
“And Rachel’s baby may not be either.”
“Correct.”
“Then the trust was impossible for him from the beginning.”
Unless someone had falsified paternity.
Unless the entire scheme had never been about creating Julian’s heir.
Only convincing Klaus and the trustees that one existed.
Ruiz’s phone buzzed.
A laboratory had completed testing on an old sample taken from Julian during our IVF cycle.
The result had been preserved in North River’s hidden server.
Severe azoospermia.
No viable sperm.
I stared at the report.
Julian had known.
Vale had known.
Possibly Helga.
Possibly Marta.
Our original embryos could not have been genetically Julian’s.
Not either of them.
Noah’s paternal source was Peter.
But the remaining frozen embryo?
The one everyone had called mine and Julian’s?
Its father was somebody else.
Click here to continue reading: PART 15: Julian Had Never Been the Father of Either Embryo, and the Identity of the Second Donor Turned My Father’s Warning Into Evidence
At Dinner My Husband’s Family Switched to German, Certain I Couldn’t Understand What They Had Planned for Me
Part 14 of 20
