Chapter 14 - The Embryologist
Her name was Rebecca Cole.
Forty-one.
Brilliant.
Private fertility specialist.
Daughter of Marianne Cole.
She had worked under three surnames.
That was why nobody connected her.
Rebecca contacted me directly.
No threats.
No ransom.
She wanted immunity.
“In exchange for what?”
“The truth.”
I almost laughed.
Apparently truth now had market value.
Federal prosecutors agreed to hear her.
Rebecca arrived with two attorneys.
She looked exhausted.
“Elena.”
“Whose baby am I carrying?”
No introductions.
Good.
She placed a sealed file on the table.
“Your embryo transfer happened fourteen months ago.”
I knew.
“The embryo was selected by Helena Serrano.”
“Yes.”
“Did you switch it?”
“Yes.”
My pulse accelerated.
“To what?”
Rebecca looked at me.
“An embryo created from your own eggs.”
I stopped breathing.
“What?”
During fertility testing two years earlier, Dr. Cole had retrieved several eggs from me under the claim they were needed for ovarian reserve analysis.
That had been a lie.
Some were fertilized.
Using—
Victor’s sperm.
My hands went cold.
“So the baby is ours?”
Biologically mine and Victor’s.
“Yes.”
The fake paternity report had been fabricated.
Not because the fetus wasn’t Victor’s.
Because Rebecca altered the test.
Why?
To trigger conflict.
Exactly like Daniel Cho admitted.
But Rebecca had worked with Daniel.
Together.
They wanted Victor to confront Helena.
They didn’t expect physical violence.
Again.
Everyone miscalculated with my body.
I was exhausted by people regretting after using me.
“So my baby is Victor’s.”
“Yes.”
I stared at the floor.
This changed nothing about whether I loved the baby.
But it complicated everything else.
Victor was the biological father.
The man who hurt me.
The man manipulated by his family.
The man still responsible.
What would I tell the child someday?
Not today’s problem.
Rebecca continued.
She had preserved evidence of Helena ordering the embryo switch.
Anthony ordering legal guardianship documents.
Dr. Cole hiding medication abuse.
Enough to close remaining cases.
Then she gave me one final document.
“Your mother’s amendment is valid.”
Lucia exhaled.
Good.
The trust would transfer to charity after birth.
But there was a complication.
Victor, as the child’s biological father, could theoretically challenge guardianship.
I stared.
“He won’t.”
“How do you know?”
Because Victor had signed something in jail.
Parental rights waiver?
No.
A declaration acknowledging violence and requesting no automatic custody consideration without independent court review.
Not termination.
Courts decide that.
But accountability.
He had done one decent thing.
Then Matteo entered carrying news.
Anthony accepted a federal deal.
Why?
His health was collapsing.
He wanted medical care.
In exchange, he would identify every remaining shell company.
Catherine hated the deal.
I didn’t care.
Justice didn’t need to feel cinematic.
It needed to work.
Helena refused cooperation.
Raul did.
Nora testified.
Gabriel surrendered.
Dr. Cole remained alive—the death claim had been another manipulation by Rebecca’s team to flush out Anthony’s loyalists.
I nearly threw something at Rebecca.
She apologized.
I told her to leave before I changed my mind about cooperating.
Months passed.
Cases grew.
Networks collapsed.
I stayed pregnant.
That became my rebellion.
Every morning the baby moved, someone’s plan failed.
At thirty-eight weeks, labor began.
Matteo drove me to the hospital.
Lucia held my hand.
Teresa cried.
Catherine pretended not to.
Victor was nowhere near the room.
Correct.
After fourteen hours, my daughter was born.
Healthy.
Loud.
Furious.
Perfect.
I named her Sofia Lucia.
After the two mothers who raised different parts of my life.
Then Dr. Patel returned with routine blood results.
Her expression looked strange.
I immediately panicked.
“What?”
“She’s healthy.”
“Then what?”
She hesitated.
“Her blood type doesn’t match the expected parental combination.”
My stomach dropped.
“No.”
Rebecca’s records were wrong.
Again.
Dr. Patel continued:
“We repeated it twice.”
I looked at Matteo.
He closed his eyes.
Of course.
Then the door opened.
Rebecca Cole stood there.
She had been summoned.
Her face was pale.
“I need to explain.”
I almost screamed.
“Now?”
She looked at my newborn daughter.
“The embryo I transferred was not Victor’s.”
I stared.
“But you said—”
“I said what Anthony needed to believe until he signed the cooperation agreement.”
Silence.
“You lied to me?”
“Yes.”
My hands shook with rage.
“Whose child is she?”
Rebecca swallowed.
“Yours.”
“My egg?”
“Yes.”
“And the father?”
She looked toward Matteo.
Then away.
No.
I stopped breathing.
Matteo went white.
Rebecca whispered:
“The sperm sample was mislabeled twenty-nine years ago.”
That made no sense.
Then she said:
“It came from a cryogenic specimen stored under Anthony DeLuca’s fertility project.”
My entire body turned cold.
“Whose?”
Rebecca looked at Catherine.
Catherine covered her mouth.
May you like
And whispered:
“Matteo’s.”
