Chapter 9 - THE DEAD WOMAN'S LETTER|
The third woman, Audrey, had been dead for almost a year.
Her family had been told that an embryo created from her eggs would be used in a future pregnancy through a private arrangement. Her older sister, Vivian, had been designated as the person who would care for the child if the arrangement proceeded as planned.
Vivian had never met me.
She learned about the dispute when Harrison's attorney contacted her and warned that the birth arrangements might be delayed.
Instead of calling Harrison, Vivian contacted my attorney.
She wanted to know why her sister's embryo was involved in a pregnancy carried by a woman who had never agreed to the arrangement.
A few days later, Vivian agreed to meet me in Emily's living room.
She arrived carrying a small envelope and a photograph of Audrey.
Audrey had been smiling in the picture, standing beside a lake with one hand shielding her eyes from the sun.
Vivian looked like her, though her expression was more guarded.
"I don't know what Harrison told you about my sister," she began.
"Only that she died and her family was supposed to receive one of the babies."
Vivian closed her eyes.
"Audrey had a genetic condition that made pregnancy unsafe. She wanted a child, but she knew she couldn't carry one herself. She created embryos before her health deteriorated. After she died, our parents and I discussed what she would have wanted."
"Did she specifically name you as the person who would raise her child?"
"She told me she wanted me to be involved if she ever had a baby. We had not finalized every legal detail."
I looked at the photograph.
"Did you know Harrison was arranging for me to carry the embryo?"
"He said you had volunteered."
The same lie.
Vivian reached into her bag and removed a folded letter.
"This was written by Audrey before she died. I found it while organizing her belongings. I think you should read it."
She handed it to me.
The letter was dated several months before the embryo transfer.
Audrey wrote about her fear of leaving the world without a child, but she also wrote about the importance of honesty. She wanted any future child to know the truth about their origins and to be raised without shame or secrecy.
One sentence made my eyes burn.
If someone ever helps carry my embryo, I want that person to understand what she's agreeing to. I don't want my longing to become another woman's burden.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
Audrey had understood something Harrison had deliberately ignored.
My consent mattered.
My dignity mattered.
My right to know mattered.
"Did Harrison show you this letter?" I asked.
Vivian shook her head.
"No. I found it after he told us the arrangements were nearly complete."
"Did you ever see a consent form signed by me?"
"No. I trusted him when he said the clinic had handled everything."
She looked ashamed.
"I thought my sister's dream was finally coming true. I didn't ask enough questions."
I studied her face.
Unlike Harrison, Vivian did not seem to be searching for a way to defend herself. She looked like someone who had discovered that grief had made her vulnerable to a promise she desperately wanted to believe.
"I don't know what will happen to the baby," I said.
"Neither do I."
"If the child is genetically related to Audrey, that will matter. But it won't erase what happened to me."
Vivian nodded.
"I understand."
I wasn't sure she fully did, but I appreciated that she didn't argue.
She told my attorney that she would cooperate with the review and provide Audrey's documents. She also agreed not to contact me directly about custody or make public claims about the baby while the legal questions remained unresolved.
After she left, I reread Audrey's letter.
Then I placed it beside the ultrasound pictures.
For the first time, I felt that the story of these babies might belong to more than Harrison's lies. They had genetic histories, medical histories, and families with hopes of their own.
But none of those hopes justified deceiving me.
That evening, my attorney called with news from the fertility clinic.
The clinic had identified a discrepancy in the records for the third embryo. The document listing Audrey's embryo as available for transfer had been uploaded after Audrey's death, and the authorization appeared to have been submitted by someone acting under a power of attorney.
The clinic was reviewing whether that authorization was valid and whether it covered the specific use of the embryo.
My attorney cautioned that the discrepancy did not prove the transfer had been unlawful, but it raised serious questions about the authority under which the clinic had proceeded.
"Who submitted the document?" I asked.
"The audit record identifies a law firm that represented Harrison's business interests."
I felt my pulse quicken.
"Does that mean Harrison submitted it?"
"Not necessarily. We need the original filing, the correspondence, and confirmation of who instructed the firm."
I looked at Audrey's letter.
She had wanted her child to be born into honesty.
Instead, her embryo had become part of a plan built on deception.
And now we had discovered that the paperwork for her embryo might have been altered after her death.
The clinic's compliance officer had one more piece of information.
The same law firm had prepared a separate document for Harrison several months earlier.
It was a proposed guardianship arrangement.
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The person named as the primary decision-maker was not me.
It was Harrison's mother.
