Chapter 3 - THE QUESTION THAT DESTROYED THE CELEBRATION
“Explain what she means,” Preston demanded.
Brielle pushed herself upright.
“I don't understand. I told you I was twelve weeks pregnant.”
“You told me that three months ago.”
“Because that's what I believed!”
Dr. Collins raised a hand.
“Please. I need everyone to remain calm. This is a medical appointment, not an interrogation.”
She turned back to Brielle.
“The ultrasound measurements suggest a gestational age significantly different from the date you reported. That can happen for several reasons, including inaccurate menstrual dates. It does not, by itself, establish paternity or indicate that anything is wrong with the pregnancy.”
Margaret's expression hardened.
“Then what is the problem?”
“The problem is that Ms. Foster's previous laboratory results contain information that needs clarification before I can complete this assessment.”
Brielle shook her head.
“You're making me sound like I've done something wrong.”
“I haven't accused you of anything,” Dr. Collins replied. “I'm asking you to help me reconcile your records.”
Preston stepped closer to the examination bed.
“Brielle, look at me.”
She did.
“Is there anything I need to know?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“No. I love you. I'm carrying your baby.”
The words should have reassured him.
Instead, he remembered the way she'd refused to let him accompany her to her previous appointment. He remembered her insistence that the baby's sex had already been confirmed, although she had never shown him the report.
He also remembered the envelope she'd left on his desk two weeks earlier.
Your future starts now.
At the time, he'd thought it was romantic.
Now he wasn't sure what she'd meant.
Dr. Collins excused herself to verify the results with the clinic's records department. When she returned, she asked Brielle to speak with her privately.
Brielle refused.
“Whatever you have to say, say it in front of my family.”
“Your privacy is important, Ms. Foster. I cannot discuss confidential medical information with other people without your permission.”
Brielle glanced at Preston.
“It's fine.”
The doctor took a breath.
“Your records indicate that a blood test was performed at another facility several weeks ago. The report we received contains a discrepancy in the patient identifiers. We need to verify that the results actually belong to you.”
Preston stared at her.
“Are you saying she isn't pregnant?”
“No. The ultrasound confirms a pregnancy. I'm saying we cannot responsibly draw conclusions from a record that hasn't been verified.”
Richard suddenly spoke.
“Does this child belong to my son?”
“Mr. Hale, I cannot determine paternity from an ultrasound. If that question needs to be answered, there are appropriate medical tests and counseling options.”
Margaret looked as though someone had slapped her.
Andrew quietly placed the champagne bottle on the floor.
Brielle began crying.
“You're all treating me like a criminal!”
Preston stepped away from the bed.
“Then help us understand what's happening.”
“I told you everything!”
“Apparently, you haven't.”
Her tears turned to anger.
“You divorced your wife for me. You told me we were going to start a family. Now you're going to stand there and question me in front of everyone?”
The room fell silent.
Preston's jaw tightened.
“I did not divorce Lena because you were pregnant.”
Brielle stared at him.
“You told me she was the only thing standing between you and the life you deserved.”
For a moment, Preston couldn't speak.
Because he had said something very close to that.
He'd said it on a night when he'd been drinking, after another argument with Lena about his father's demands. He'd promised Brielle that once the divorce was final, there would be no more complications.
But he hadn't promised her love.
He hadn't promised her a child.
And he certainly hadn't promised that his family would accept unanswered questions.
Richard approached the doctor.
“What exactly do you need from us?”
“Nothing from the family. Ms. Foster needs to complete the verification process. We can arrange follow-up testing and discuss the appropriate next steps.”
Margaret turned toward Brielle.
“Then do it.”
Brielle looked wounded.
“You don't trust me?”
Margaret's answer came without hesitation.
“Trust is earned.”
Brielle swung her legs off the examination bed.
“Fine. I'll prove all of you wrong.”
She grabbed her handbag and stormed toward the door.
Preston followed her into the corridor.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Brielle, we aren't finished talking.”
She turned so abruptly that he nearly collided with her.
“You got what you wanted, Preston. You have your freedom. You have your company. You have a family that thinks a baby boy will solve every problem in your life.”
Her voice broke.
“But don't expect me to stand there smiling while your mother decides whether I'm worthy of carrying your precious heir.”
She walked away.
Preston watched her disappear around the corner.
His phone vibrated.
An unfamiliar number had sent him a message.
You should ask Lena why she left so quickly. She knows something about your family's inheritance that you don't.
A second message appeared.
And if you think Brielle is the only person who has lied to you, you're about to have a very bad week.
Preston read the messages twice.
Then he called Lena.
Her phone was switched off.
For the first time since their divorce, he felt something that resembled fear.
May you like
Not fear of losing his wife.
Fear that the life he'd chosen had been built on a story someone else had written for him.
