Then Rachel said something even stranger.
“There’s more.”
Of course there was.
“Genetic testing was done as part of the investigation.”
“And?”
“The embryo is not genetically related to Darius.”
I went completely still.
“What?”
“It is genetically related to you.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It was created from your egg.”
“Yes.”
“But not Darius’s sperm.”
The room blurred.
“Whose?”
“Investigators found a donor number attached to the original record.”
“A donor?”
“You and Darius never consented to a donor.”
“No.”
“I know.”
My mouth went dry.
“Rachel.”
“I’m here.”
“Whose sperm was used?”
“They identified him.”
I could barely breathe.
“Who?”
Rachel spoke the name.
And for several seconds, my brain refused to understand the words.
Then every buried memory of my childhood opened at once.
“His name was Marcus Hale.”
I knew that name.
Not from Greenhaven.
Not from Darius.
From my mother.
Marcus Hale had been my father.
