No one knew that beneath my calm voice, one sentence kept repeating.
He laughs like you.
At 7:14 p.m., Kenneth arrived with two coffees and the expression of a man who had more bad news but was trying to deliver it in manageable portions.
“You shouldn’t have caffeine this late,” I said.
“You shouldn’t be reading legal filings alone in your office,” he replied.
I accepted the coffee.
He sat across from me.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Rain ticked against the window.
Finally, I said, “How long have you suspected?”
Kenneth exhaled. “The financial issue? Months. The embryo release? Only recently. The connection to the child became plausible this morning.”
“Plausible.”
“I won’t use stronger language until testing confirms it.”
“Attorney language.”
“Protective language.”
I leaned back, exhausted. “What happens if it’s true?”
He folded his hands. “Then we deal with a difficult legal and emotional situation very carefully.”
“That sounds like something you say when the actual answer is terrible.”
“The actual answer is complicated,” he said. “You may have claims related to fraud, emotional damages, and consent violations. Parentage is more delicate. Courts focus heavily on the child’s stability.”
“Good.”
Kenneth looked at me.
“I mean it,” I said. “Whatever Connor did, Elliot didn’t do it. I don’t want him turned into evidence with a bedtime routine.”
Something like respect moved through Kenneth’s face.
“That will matter,” he said.
“Will it?”
“Yes. Not always quickly. Not always enough. But it will.”
I rubbed my eyes. “I spent years thinking I couldn’t have a child. Now I may have one who calls someone else mother.”
Kenneth was quiet.
There was no comforting answer.
I appreciated that he did not invent one.
After a moment, he opened another folder.
“This is what I wanted to discuss privately.”
The third-party involvement.
Dana.
He slid a photo across the desk.
It was a grainy image from what looked like a professional directory. A woman in her late forties, dark hair cut to her chin, silver glasses, polite smile.
My stomach tightened.
“Dana Morales,” Kenneth said. “Former administrative coordinator at the fertility clinic. She left shortly after the merger.”
“I remember her.”
“She currently works as an independent patient advocate.”
“Is that legal?”
