My fingers tightened around Noah.
Only Ethan and I knew about the frozen embryos.
Only Ethan, my physician, and the clinic.
“I never told you that,” Ethan said.
Margaret blinked.
“No, but Karen—”
“Karen didn’t know.”
The air shifted.
A thread had appeared.
Thin.
Dark.
Leading somewhere none of us wanted to go.
I looked at the folder again.
The typed legal language. The copied signature. The notarized page. The visitor portal access. My private fertility history.
This was not the work of an impulsive grandmother.
Someone had information.
Someone had access.
Someone had prepared.
“Where did you get the documents?” I asked.
Margaret’s face hardened.
“I told you. A lawyer.”
“Name.”
