They were not.”
The air left my lungs.
I knew about my father’s cancer.
I had been a teenager when he recovered.
I had never known about stored samples.
“Who authorized their use?”
The doctor hesitated.
Victor said, “No one authorized anything because this entire theory is absurd.”
The doctor placed another document beside the DNA report.
“This is the retrieval log from the Harlan reproductive tissue archive.”
Victor stepped forward.
“You stole proprietary records.”
“I preserved medical evidence.”
“You committed a felony.”
“Then call the police.”
For the first time since entering the room, Victor looked uncertain.
That was when I understood something important.
He had expected to control the conversation.
He had not expected the doctor to bring copies.
I looked down at the retrieval log.
The details were dense, codes and timestamps I could barely process, but one date stood out.
It was two days before Sylvie’s fertility procedure.
The authorization field contained a digital signature connected to an executive account inside Harlan Medical Group.
Victor’s office.
I looked up.
“Why?”
Victor gave a humorless laugh.
“You genuinely think I personally walked into a laboratory and switched samples?”
“I think you came into this room claiming the babies belonged to you before anyone mentioned a DNA result.”
Silence.
One of his attorneys looked at him.
It was a tiny movement, but Victor noticed it too.
“The children are connected to a disputed reproductive procedure performed within a Harlan facility,” Victor said.
“My concern is institutional liability and legal custody until the facts are established.”
“You called them your children.”
“A figure of speech.”
Sylvie laughed once.
It was an exhausted, bitter sound.
“Tell him about the contract, Victor.”
Victor’s eyes snapped to her.
I looked between them.
“What contract?”
She pointed toward the bedside cabinet.
Inside was a sealed envelope.
I could not reach it without shifting the babies, so the doctor handed it to me and opened it at my request.
The document inside appeared to be a consent agreement bearing Sylvie’s signature.
It granted Harlan Medical Group extraordinary authority over embryos created in its facilities if a dispute arose over parentage, including the right to petition for protective custody until ownership was established.
“I never signed that,” Sylvie said.
The signature looked convincing.
So had the signature on our first divorce petition.
I felt the room narrowing around me.
“Same person?”
“I think so,” she whispered.
Seven months of anger suddenly rearranged themselves.
I remembered receiving the first divorce documents while I was in Geneva negotiating an acquisition.
My attorneys told me Sylvie had instructed them not to contact her personally.
