Chapter 3 - SUBJECT ONE
I took the photograph from Margaret.
My hands shook so violently that Dr. Lisa had to steady the edge.
The room in the photograph was not a hospital room I recognized.
There were no windows.
No identifying signs.
Only a metal examination bed and a machine positioned beside my head.
I was wearing a paper gown.
My wrists were strapped down.
Bradley stood beside me with one hand in his pocket.
Calm.
Watching.
“What did you do to me?”
He looked offended.
“You were sick.”
“I was restrained.”
“You were confused.”
“When was this?”
Margaret answered.
“Eight months ago.”
I touched my stomach.
Eight months ago was when Bradley took me away for what he called a romantic weekend.
I remembered wine at dinner.
A headache.
Waking up in our hotel bed the next afternoon.
Nothing between.
Tiffany looked at him.
“You told me she couldn’t get pregnant.”
Bradley ignored her.
I moved closer.
“What happened in that clinic?”
He smiled faintly.
“You wanted a baby.”
“I wanted a baby with my husband.”
His eyes flicked toward the monitor.
That single movement filled me with dread.
Dr. Carter compared my chart with Tiffany’s.
Both files used the same anonymous donor code.
D-7741.
Lisa searched the clinic database.
Access denied.
Dr. Carter tried an emergency physician override.
The system loaded one line.
DONOR SAMPLE DECEASED — RESTRICTED MILITARY RECORD.
Tiffany covered her mouth.
I looked at Bradley.
“You are not the father.”
He said nothing.
Margaret began crying.
Bradley turned toward her.
“Stop.”
She flinched.
I had never seen her flinch before.
Margaret looked at me.
“His father couldn’t have children.”
Bradley’s head snapped toward her.
“Enough.”
“But Bradley was born anyway,” she continued.
The room went still.
She pulled another document from the envelope.
It was a birth record.
Bradley’s original birth certificate.
Father: Unknown.
Mother: Margaret Miller.
A handwritten note had been attached.
INFANT PRODUCED THROUGH CARTER PROTOCOL.
Dr. William Carter stared at the phrase.
His face drained of color.
I noticed.
“What is the Carter Protocol?”
He did not answer immediately.
Margaret looked at him.
“You know.”
Bradley lunged for the papers.
Dr. Carter shoved him back.
Margaret held the final document against her chest.
“I know because your father created it.”
Dr. Carter froze.
“My father was a military surgeon.”
“Yes.”
May you like
Margaret handed him the page.
“And Bradley was his first surviving child.”
