Chapter 3
1047 Words
Clara stared at the doctor like she had not heard him right.
“There may have been a donor mistake,” he said again, his voice tight and careful.
The words did not land at first. They hovered in the air, light and strange, like they belonged to someone else’s life. Clara slowly sat down. Her legs felt weak all at once.
“Say that again,” she whispered.
The doctor looked miserable. “We are still checking the records. There appears to have been an error with the sample used during your procedure.”
Clara blinked. Once. Then again.
“An error.”
“Yes.”
“With the donor sample.”
He did not answer right away, and that silence was enough.
Clara gripped the arm of the chair until her fingers hurt. “I paid for privacy. I signed every form. I asked all the right questions. You are telling me now that after all that, you do not even know whose sample was used?”
The doctor lowered his eyes. “We are very sorry.”
Clara gave a short laugh, but there was no humor in it. “Sorry? That is what you say when you spill coffee. Not when you change a woman’s life.”
No one spoke.
The silence pressed in on her.
Clara turned to the nurse. “Whose sample was it?”
The nurse looked away.
Clara looked back at the doctor. “I asked you a question.”
He swallowed. “We believe the sample may not have matched the name on your consent form.”
Clara went still.
“May not have matched,” she repeated.
“Yes.”
Her mouth went dry. “You are saying I may be pregnant with the wrong man’s child.”
The doctor winced.
Clara rose so fast the chair scraped loudly behind her. “No. No, that is not possible.”
“It is possible,” he said quietly.
She shook her head hard. “I came here for one reason. One. I wanted to do this on my own. No lies. No ex. No man coming back to ruin everything. I wanted one clean choice.”
The doctor reached toward her, then stopped.
Then a voice came from the doorway.
“Do not blame the doctor yet.”
Clara turned.
A tall man stood there in a dark coat, still and calm, with eyes that seemed to see too much. He did not look like clinic staff. He looked like someone who never had to ask twice.
The doctor’s face drained of color. “Mr. Wolfe, this is not the best time.”
The man ignored him. His gaze moved to Clara, then to the folder on the desk, then back again.
Clara frowned. “Who are you?”
He answered at last. “Julian Wolfe.”
The name meant nothing to her yet, but the room seemed to shift around it. The doctor looked scared. The nurse looked frozen.
Julian’s voice stayed low. “Tell her the truth.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “There may have been a donor error during processing.”
Clara stared at him.
An error.
The word meant nothing and everything at once.
“My donor was anonymous,” she said slowly. “That is what the clinic promised.”
Julian’s eyes sharpened. “Apparently they lied.”
Clara looked at him. “And you are here because...?”
His jaw tightened. “If the sample was mine, then this concerns me too.”
Her breath caught.
The doctor shifted uneasily. Clara looked from one man to the other, feeling the room tilt around her.
“No,” she whispered.
Julian did not move. “I did not come here to confuse you further.”
“You are doing a very good job of that already.”
He stepped closer, then stopped. “Miss Bennett, if the clinic used the wrong donor, then someone made a serious mistake. Or someone did it on purpose.”
Clara stared at him. “On purpose?”
He did not look away. “That is what we need to find out.”
Her pulse began to pound.
“No,” Clara said, though her voice was thinner now. “No, that is insane.”
“Is it?”
She shook her head. “I came here because I wanted control. I wanted one thing in my life that belonged to me. I did not ask for a man. I did not ask for this.” Her throat tightened. “I certainly did not ask for a mystery.”
The doctor cleared his throat nervously. “We are checking the records now. There may be an explanation.”
“There had better be.”
Julian kept looking at her in a way that made her feel both seen and cornered. “You should not go home alone tonight.”
Clara gave a bitter laugh. “You are making suggestions to a woman you just met.”
“I am serious.”
“I can tell.”
His expression stayed calm, but his body looked ready for something she could not see. “Then listen.”
Clara folded her arms. “Why should I trust you?”
A beat passed.
“Because if I am right,” Julian said, “you are in danger.”
The words were quiet. Controlled. Worse than shouting.
Clara stared at him. Her mouth went dry.
Danger.
From what.
From who.
Before she could ask, heavy footsteps sounded in the hall.
The doctor turned sharply. “What is that?”
Julian’s whole body changed. Not much. Just enough for Clara to see he had already understood something she had not.
He moved in front of her.
Clara’s heart hit hard against her ribs.
A knock sounded on the door.
Not gentle. Hard.
The doctor paled. “We are closed to visitors.”
A flat voice answered from the hall. “Open the door.”
Clara held her breath.
Julian did not turn around. He kept his eyes on the door, his shoulders still and dangerous.
The handle began to turn.
And Clara knew, with sudden cold certainty, that the mistake at this clinic had opened something much bigger than she had imagined.
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