It was concern.
“I obtained the laboratory report this morning after receiving authorization from the executor.”
I stared at the envelope.
“And?”
Daria looked at Megan.
“Knox is not Nicholas’s biological child.”
Todd gripped the back of a chair.
My mother whispered, “Thank God.”
But Daria did not look relieved.
She looked at me.
“And he isn’t Todd’s biological child either.”
Todd sat down.
Megan made a sound somewhere between a gasp and a sob.
“That’s wrong.”
“The testing was repeated.”
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not.”
Megan tightened both arms around Knox.
Daria’s eyes remained on me.
“There’s more.”
I suddenly knew I did not want to hear it.
“Angela,” she said carefully, “the laboratory found an unexpected familial relationship.”
My mouth went dry.
“What relationship?”
Daria inhaled.
“According to the genetic markers, **you are Knox’s biological mother.**”
The room disappeared.
Not literally.
But that is how memory works when reality becomes too large.
I remember a balloon popping somewhere behind me.
I remember Todd saying, “What the hell?”
I remember Megan screaming, “No!”
And I remember looking at Knox.
His blue-gray eyes.
The tiny dimple in his left cheek.
The small curl at the back of his head.
Details I had loved because he was my nephew.
Details that suddenly became evidence.
“No,” I said.
Daria came toward me.
“Angela—”
“I never gave birth.”
“I know.”
“Det er umulig.”
Megan backed away.
“No one touches my son.”
My son.
The words struck differently now.
Daria lowered her voice.
“Angela, think about your stored embryos.”
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Four embryos.
Frozen.
Waiting.
For two years.
I looked at Megan.
She shook her head desperately.
“No.”
“Megan,” I whispered.
“No.”
“What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything.”
Todd stood.
“What embryos?”
Nobody answered him.
I stepped closer to my sister.
“What did you do?”
Her eyes darted toward our parents.
That was the moment I realized Megan was not the only person afraid.
My mother was crying.
My father had gone gray.
I looked from one to the other.
“Mom?”
She sat down hard on the sofa.
“Angela…”
My skin prickled.
“Hva?”
“We didn’t know everything.”
My father snapped, “Susan.”
“No,” she said.
“Enough.”
Megan screamed, “Mom, shut up!”
Twenty-five guests stood around us.
My family secrets were unfolding beneath a balloon shaped like the number one.
My mother looked at me.
“About eighteen months before Knox was born, Megan came to us.
She said she was pregnant.”
“She was pregnant.”
“She said there had been a fertility procedure.”
Todd stirret på henne.
“A what?”
My mother began crying harder.
“She said you and Nick had agreed.”
I could barely speak.
“Agreed to what?”
“To let her carry one of your embryos.”
The room tilted.
I grabbed the mantel.
“No.”
“She showed us papers.”
“What papers?”
“Consent forms.”
“I never signed consent forms.”
“We know that now.”
“NOW?”
My voice cracked through the room.
Knox began to cry.
Megan bounced him automatically.
My father finally looked at me.
“She told us you couldn’t emotionally handle another pregnancy attempt.
That you wanted it private until the baby was safely born.”
Todd laughed once, bitterly.
“And where exactly was I in this story?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“She told us you knew.”
Todd turned to Megan.
“You told your parents I knew you were carrying your sister’s embryo?”
Megan’s face collapsed.
“I was going to explain.”
“When?
His college graduation?”
“Stop yelling.”
“I THOUGHT HE WAS MY SON!”
Knox screamed.
Immediately, every adult fell silent.
Todd’s face crumpled.
He turned away and covered his mouth.
That hurt more than any shouting could have.
Because whatever had been done, Todd loved that boy.
Daria approached Megan.
“Give Knox to your mother for a minute.”
“No.”
“Megan.”
“No one is taking him.”
“I’m not taking him.
He’s frightened.”
Eventually, our mother took Knox.
He buried his wet face against her shoulder.
Daria looked at me.
“We need records from the fertility clinic.”
I nodded without understanding.
“I’ll get them.”
“No,” she said.
“I already requested an emergency preservation order.”
I stared at her.
“When?”
“This morning.
The genetic report made me concerned records could disappear.”
That was Daria.
Always three steps ahead.
The party ended without anyone officially announcing it.
Guests slipped out quietly.
The photographer packed her equipment without asking for payment.
The untouched cake remained beneath the balloons.
Todd disappeared into the backyard.
My parents sat in separate chairs.
Megan stood by the window, shaking.
I approached her.
“You carried my embryo.”
She said nothing.
“Megan.”
“You don’t understand.”
“Then make me.”
Her shoulders trembled.
“Nick came to me.”
The sentence cut through me.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“Why?”
“He said you had given up.”
“I had not.”
“He said you couldn’t do it anymore.”
