The Woman Who Watched

Rosa stared at Grace.

For several seconds, the only sound came from the fetal monitors.

“What do you mean?” she finally asked.

Grace reached beneath her pillow and removed a folded sheet of paper.

“I took a photograph of the original.”

She handed Rosa her phone.

The document bore the letterhead of a private fertility clinic.

NORTHBRIDGE REPRODUCTIVE MEDICINE

Below it was a patient reference number.

And a sentence that made Rosa’s stomach tighten.

An unresolved embryo-identification discrepancy requires immediate confidential review.

Rosa read it twice.

“Grace, this doesn’t say one of the babies isn’t yours.”

“There’s another page.”

Grace swiped the screen.

The second photograph showed a handwritten note.

Patient must not be informed until Eleanor approves disclosure.

Rosa looked up.

“Eleanor?”

Grace nodded.

“I found it in her desk when I was looking for Daniel’s childhood photographs.”

“Why would she have fertility clinic records?”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you spoken to your doctor?”

“Not yet.”

Grace’s voice trembled.

“After everything we went through to get pregnant, I was terrified someone had made a mistake.”

Rosa sat beside her.

“Listen to me. We don’t know what this means.”

“But Eleanor knew.”

“Yes.”

“And she didn’t tell me.”

Rosa couldn’t argue.

Grace looked toward the window.

“Sometimes I wonder whether she ever wanted these babies to be born.”

The next morning, Daniel arranged a private meeting with Dr. Samuel Price, director of Northbridge Reproductive Medicine.

Grace insisted Rosa accompany them.

Dr. Price was a silver-haired physician in his fifties.

He listened carefully as Grace explained the letter.

Then he examined the photographs.

His expression changed.

“Where did you obtain these?”

“From my mother-in-law’s desk.”

Dr. Price removed his glasses.

“I need to review your file.”

“Why?”

“Because this document refers to an internal laboratory inquiry.”

Grace leaned forward.

“Was there a mistake?”

“I can’t answer until I’ve verified the records.”

Daniel’s voice hardened.

“Doctor, my wife is carrying five children. If there’s something we need to know, tell us.”

Dr. Price hesitated.

Then he said, “During the embryo transfer, two embryos were placed.”

Grace nodded.

“We know.”

“One subsequently divided.”

“That’s how we ended up with five.”

“Yes. But the division pattern was unusual.”

Grace frowned.

“What does that mean?”

“Three of the fetuses appear to be genetically identical. The other two are not identical to that group.”

Daniel nodded.

“That was explained to us.”

Dr. Price looked at the letter again.

“The discrepancy concerns the original labeling of one embryo.”

Grace felt the room tilt.

“Are you saying someone else’s embryo was transferred into me?”

“We don’t know that.”

“Then what do you know?”

Dr. Price took a slow breath.

“Someone accessed your laboratory records without authorization.”

“Who?”

He looked at Daniel.

“Your mother’s private medical consultant.”

Daniel stood.

“What?”

“According to the access logs, the consultant requested information about embryo identity and genetic screening.”

Grace pressed both hands over her stomach.

“Why would Eleanor care which embryos were transferred?”

Dr. Price didn’t answer.

But Rosa noticed something.

The physician was frightened.

Not confused.

Not merely concerned.

Frightened.

That afternoon, Rosa returned to the Whitmore estate to collect Grace’s belongings.

The mansion seemed strangely empty.

She passed the grand staircase and entered the east corridor.

A woman’s voice came from Eleanor’s study.

“You assured me the problem had been resolved.”

Rosa stopped.

Another voice answered.

A man’s.

“The incident created unnecessary attention.”

Rosa recognized him.

Charles Mercer.

The Whitmore family’s longtime attorney.

Eleanor spoke again.

“She survived.”

“Yes.”

“And the pregnancy?”

“Still viable.”

A pause.

Then Eleanor said, “Then we have very little time.”

Rosa’s pulse quickened.

She stepped closer.

Mercer lowered his voice.

“The clinic records are being reviewed. If they discover the original transfer authorization—”

“Then destroy it.”

“Eleanor—”

“I said destroy it.”

Rosa’s hand flew to her mouth.

She backed away.

Her heel struck a decorative vase.

The porcelain rattled.

Inside the study, conversation stopped.

“Who’s there?” Eleanor demanded.

Rosa turned and hurried toward the servants’ corridor.

She reached the kitchen just as Eleanor appeared.

“Rosa.”

Rosa stopped.

“Yes, Mrs. Whitmore?”

“What are you doing here?”

“Collecting Mrs. Whitmore’s clothing.”

Eleanor studied her.

“Did you hear anything?”

Rosa kept her expression neutral.

“No, ma’am.”

Eleanor approached.

For a moment, Rosa thought she might strike her.

Instead, the older woman smiled.

“You’ve always been loyal to this family.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I hope that hasn’t changed.”

Rosa looked directly at her.

“My loyalty is to the people who need me.”

Eleanor’s smile disappeared.

“Be careful, Rosa.”

Then she walked away.

That evening, Rosa received a telephone call from an unknown number.

A man spoke.

“Mrs. Martinez?”

“Yes?”

“My name is Detective Aaron Blake. I’m investigating the incident at the Whitmore estate.”

Rosa sat upright.

“Have you found something?”

“We examined the cable mounting.”

Her heart pounded.

“And?”