Simone hired a lawyer.
Records were subpoenaed.
Two patient identification numbers appeared on archived lab sheets.
Mine.
Hers.
Someone had corrected them manually.
Seven years earlier.
Simone eventually found Darius through old clinic paperwork and contacted him.
Not me.
Darius.
I stared at him across the table.
“Why?”
Simone answered.
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“Yes.”
“Why would you be afraid of me?”
“Because if Leah was yours…”
Her voice cracked.
“I thought you would take her.”
“And contacting my husband somehow seemed safer?”
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
I laughed bitterly.
“There was one obvious thing you could have done.
You could have told the truth.”
Darius sat forward.
“I asked her not to contact you until we confirmed everything.”
I turned toward him.
“You asked her.”
“Yes.”
“You made that decision.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
The words made me furious.
“From knowing who my own child was?”
