Chapter 3 - THE BOSTON BILL
Rachel arrived with another attorney and a driver.
She did not hug me immediately.
She looked at the bruise forming along my upper arm.
Then the cut in my gown.
“Do you need a hospital?”
“Probably.”
“Then that comes first.”
I almost argued.
She raised one eyebrow.
Same Rachel.
“Evidence doesn’t improve because you avoid medical care.”
Fair.
We went.
The doctor documented the welt across my back.
My arm.
The soreness from falling to one knee.
No fractures.
I gave a factual account.
No embellishment.
Adrian’s strike mattered enough without adding drama.
Rachel sat beside me afterward.
“Now Boston.”
I told her.
She requested records through proper channels.
The Northstar invoice gave us a provider name.
St. Catherine Reproductive Institute.
Reproductive.
My stomach tightened.
“I’ve never been there.”
Rachel said:
“Let’s verify before assuming.”
Good.
We did.
The institute initially refused information.
Correctly.
Then my identity was verified.
There was a patient file.
My name.
My date of birth.
But the photograph attached to the file was not me.
It was Vanessa.
I stared.
“What?”
Rachel leaned closer.
“She used your identity?”
The records were seven years old.
Before Vanessa supposedly met Adrian.
That was another lie.
Vanessa had been in his life years earlier.
Treatment:
Egg retrieval.
Embryo creation.
Genetic screening.
My name appeared as intended mother.
Adrian as intended father.
But Vanessa’s eggs had been used.
Why bill Northstar?
Because Northstar’s executive medical benefit apparently covered fertility treatment for senior family members.
I had once been eligible through Dad’s company.
Adrian used my credentials.
My family’s benefit.
Vanessa’s body.
Their plan.
“What happened to the embryos?”
Stored.
Three.
Current status required more investigation.
I felt violated and strangely detached at the same time.
This wasn’t infidelity anymore.
It was infrastructure.
They had built systems around deceiving me.
Then I remembered Vanessa’s hand over her stomach.
“Is she pregnant with one?”
Rachel did not answer until we had proof.
Two days later, Adrian’s lawyer disclosed it because pregnancy affected his proposed divorce timeline.
Yes.
Vanessa was pregnant.
Embryo transfer eleven weeks earlier.
One of the embryos created seven years ago.
Adrian had been planning a child with her long before he demanded divorce.
Maybe years before.
Then another fact.
One embryo had already been transferred once.
Four years earlier.
Around the time of my miscarriage.
I stopped breathing.
“To whom?”
Rachel read the record.
Vanessa.
“Was she pregnant?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
The pregnancy ended at ten weeks.
I stared at the wall.
Same year.
Same month.
As mine.
Two women pregnant by Adrian at the same time.
Both miscarried.
Except my medical records remained missing.
Then the Boston invoice timeline showed another charge.
Emergency genetic testing.
Not for Vanessa.
For tissue from “Patient C.V.”
Me.
Somehow, tissue from my miscarriage had been sent to Boston without my informed knowledge.
Why?
The report took longer to obtain.
When it arrived, I understood why Adrian hid it.
The pregnancy I lost was genetically normal.
No obvious chromosomal reason for miscarriage.
That alone meant little.
Miscarriages happen.
But one lab note stood out.
Specimen showed exposure to anticoagulant levels inconsistent with patient-reported medication history.
My hands went cold.
“I wasn’t taking anticoagulants.”
Rachel said:
“We need a medical expert.”
No accusations yet.
Good.
We consulted one.
Could certain medications increase bleeding risk during early pregnancy?
Yes.
Could a lab result prove someone administered them intentionally?
No.
Could the finding warrant investigation?
Yes.
I remembered the supplements Adrian brought me during that pregnancy.
“Prenatal vitamins.”
He insisted I take them.
Every night.
The bottle disappeared after I lost the baby.
I had blamed myself for four years.
Working too much.
Stress.
Coffee.
Everything.
Then Rachel asked:
“Did anyone else know about your pregnancy?”
“Adrian.”
“Your father?”
“No.”
“Vanessa?”
I laughed bitterly.
“Apparently Adrian told her everything.”
Then Dad called.
He found an archived email.
Adrian to Northstar benefits:
Urgent testing required. My wife experienced unexpected fetal loss and needs privacy. Please route all reporting through me.
Through him.
Not me.
The report existed because Adrian ordered it.
He knew about the anticoagulant finding.
He never told me.
Then one more email appeared.
From an unrecognized account.
To Adrian.
Subject:
Both pregnancies failed. We need another plan.
No signature.
But Rachel traced the account ownership through disclosed materials later.
Eleanor Vale.
Adrian’s mother.
The woman absent from our anniversary humiliation.
The family secret wasn’t Adrian and Vanessa alone.
May you like
His mother had known about both pregnancies.
And she had been planning the next one.
