Chapter 6: What the Clinic Had to Say
Ryan answered on the third ring.
He put it on speaker without me asking.
I think he needed a witness.
"Mr.
Ryan?" The voice was professional, careful.
A woman.
"This is Dr.
Okafor's office calling.
We received a message that you had some questions about your procedure records.
Is this a good time?"
"It's fine," Ryan said.
"Go ahead."
"We've pulled your file.
I want to make sure I'm speaking with you directly before I share anything.
Can you confirm your date of birth and the date of your retrieval procedure?"
He confirmed both.
"Thank you.
I'm looking at your file now." A pause.
Papers or a keyboard.
"I do see a note here that I want to flag for you.
On the day of your retrieval, there was a processing delay in the lab.
The sample was logged and stored, but there's an annotation that the initial viability count came back lower than expected." Another pause.
"There's a follow-up note from the embryologist indicating that a secondary sample was used to supplement the procedure."
Ryan's hand tightened around the phone.
"What does secondary sample mean?" I asked.
"Who am I speaking with?" the woman asked.
"His sister," Ryan said.
"She was the surrogate.
She's with me now."
"I see." A brief hesitation.
"A secondary sample would typically mean a backup was used when the primary sample didn't meet the threshold for the procedure.
It's not uncommon.
But the note here doesn't specify the source of the secondary sample clearly.
It references a donor code I'm not immediately finding in the standard registry."
The hallway felt very small.
"Are you telling me," Ryan said, "that you don't know whose sample was used?"
"I'm telling you that the file has an irregularity I want to have our lab director review before I make any definitive statement.
I don't want to give you inaccurate information."
"My wife had an affair with my cousin," Ryan said.
Flat.
Direct.
Like he was reading from a list.
"My newborn daughter has a birthmark that matches his family line.
And you're telling me there's an irregularity in the sample record."
Silence on the line.
"Mr.
Ryan," the woman said carefully, "I think it would be best if you and your family came in to meet with Dr.
Okafor directly.
We can review the full file together.
We can also discuss next steps, including any testing you may want to pursue."
"We'll be requesting a paternity test," I said.
"That is absolutely your right, and we will cooperate fully with any testing process." A pause.
"I'm very sorry for the distress this is causing.
I want to assure you that we take any procedural irregularity extremely seriously."
Ryan ended the call.
He stood holding the phone at his side.
He didn't move for a long moment.
"Secondary sample," he said.
"Ryan—"
"They used someone else's sample and didn't tell us." His voice stayed level.
That frightened me more than if he had shouted.
"We signed paperwork.
We paid.
We trusted them.
And they used someone else's sample and didn't tell us."
"We don't know that yet.
They said they need to review—"
"Stop." He looked at me.
"Don't do that.
Don't manage me right now."
I stopped.
He was right.
He didn't need managing.
He needed someone to stand next to him while the ground kept moving.
"Okay," I said.
"I won't."
He put the phone in his pocket.
Looked at the door again.
"I have to go back in there," he said.
"Yes."
"I don't know what to say to her."
"You don't have to say anything yet.
You just have to go back in."
He pushed the door open.
Melissa looked up from the bed.
Her eyes went to Ryan's face, reading it the way people read weather.
"The clinic called," Ryan said.
He sat down in the chair across from her.
"There's a problem with the sample records."
Melissa closed her eyes.
"Did you know?" he asked.
"When we were going through the process — did you suspect?"
"No," she said.
"I swear to you, Ryan.
I had no idea.
I thought it was behind us.
I thought—" She opened her eyes.
"I thought God had given us a second chance.
I thought the baby was yours and it was a sign that we were supposed to move forward."
"You thought God was covering for you," Ryan said.
She flinched.
"That's not fair," she whispered.
"No," he said.
"None of this is fair."
The door opened behind us.
A nurse leaned in.
"Excuse me.
There's a man at the maternity desk asking for this room.
He says his name is Danny."
May you like
Ryan didn't turn around.
"Send him in," he said.
