Suddenly, Greenhaven’s desperation to bury everything made even more sense.
But that still wasn’t the final revelation.
Rachel told me investigators had traced how Marcus Hale’s sample entered Greenhaven’s system.
Before the clinic became Greenhaven, it had belonged to a hospital fertility program.
My father had deposited the sample there in 1998.
Years later, records were transferred poorly during acquisition.
A technician had attached the wrong barcode to the wrong storage tank.
The same culture of carelessness that allowed Simone to switch embryos had already existed for decades.
I sat there shaking.
“How many lives did that place gamble with?”
Rachel didn’t answer.
Nobody ever could.
The embryo was eventually destroyed after legal review and with my consent.
I attended the paperwork appointment alone.
Not because the embryo was a child to me.
But because it represented one final truth.
DNA without context can become a weapon.
