Chapter 5 - MONDAY MORNING CHANGED EVERYTHING
My father’s confession came slowly.
Arbor Crest had started twelve years earlier as a healthcare logistics concept.
Dad had invested in a data platform designed to coordinate fertility clinics, egg banks, surrogate agencies, and laboratory services.
“At first, it was scheduling and record management,” he said.
“When did reproductive data become a product?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“That’s not believable.”
“Thomas Larkin changed the model.”
“You were an owner.”
“A minority investor.”
“You created Margrave.”
“Yes.”
“You received distributions.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know women were being recruited through their families?”
“No.”
“Did you know patient data was being monetized?”
He looked away.
“That answer is yes.”
His face tightened.
“Aggregated research data. De-identified.”
“That’s what they told you?”
“That’s what the contracts said.”
I almost admired the irony.
My father, who had treated my profession as meaningless office work, had apparently invested millions of dollars based on words he hadn’t bothered to examine carefully.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because once you started working in healthcare compliance, I knew you’d ask questions.”
That sentence hurt more than I expected.
He hadn’t underestimated my career.
He had understood it perfectly.
He simply preferred that I stay ignorant.
“And Easter?”
“I thought Vanessa needed you.”
“Did you know you might profit?”
He covered his face.
“I knew Margrave received volume distributions.”
“Pregnancy volume.”
“Clinic volume.”
“Stop hiding behind vocabulary.”
He lowered his hands.
“Yes.”
That was the first moment my father truly lost me.
Not when he pressured me.
Not when I discovered Margrave.
When he admitted that he knew his daughter’s pregnancy could benefit an investment and still placed a pen beside my hand.
“I’m going home.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
“I made mistakes.”
“You monetized things you didn’t want to understand.”
“I never wanted anyone hurt.”
“That’s what people say when they benefited from not asking questions.”
He flinched.
Good.
I wanted him to.
Outside, Vanessa was sitting in her car.
She rolled down the window.
“What did he say?”
“He helped create Arbor Crest.”
She stared at me.
Then laughed once.
A cracked, broken sound.
“So Dad invested in the clinic. My husband recruited me into the clinic. Then they recruited you.”
“We don’t know Dad recruited anyone.”
“Does it matter?”
“It matters legally.”
She looked at me.
“Of course you’d say that.”
“What does that mean?”
“You always get to be calm.”
“I am not calm.”
“You look calm.”
“That’s because if I start screaming, I’m not sure I’ll stop.”
For the first time, Vanessa seemed to understand me.
She unlocked the passenger door.
I got in.
We sat in silence for several minutes.
Then she whispered, “I meant what I said at dinner.”
I looked at her.
“Which terrible part?”
Her mouth trembled.
“About your empty apartment.”
I waited.
“I wanted to hurt you.”
“I know.”
“Because you have something I don’t.”
I almost laughed.
“You spent twenty minutes explaining how empty my life was.”
“I know.”
“What exactly do I have?”
“Freedom.”
That surprised me.
Vanessa stared through the windshield.
“Everything in my life became about having a baby. Every month. Every appointment. Every injection. Every family dinner where Mom looked at me like I was broken.”
I said nothing.
“Grant kept saying the next cycle would work. Dad kept offering money. Mom kept praying. And you…”
“What?”
“You had a life.”
“My life apparently offended everyone.”
“Because you didn’t need what we needed you to need.”
There was something painfully honest in that.
“I still don’t forgive what you did.”
“I know.”
“But I believe you’re scared.”
“I am.”
We sat there until my phone rang.
Daniel.
His first words were, “We have a problem.”
That phrase had become exhausting.
“What now?”
“Thomas Larkin knows our review expanded.”
“How?”
“Someone leaked internal information.”
“From our firm?”
“Possibly.”
My stomach tightened.
“How serious?”
“He’s begun moving assets.”
Vanessa looked at me.
I put the call on speaker.
Daniel continued.
“Three subsidiaries transferred funds this afternoon. Two executives resigned. Arbor Crest’s general counsel is claiming routine restructuring.”
“Which means it isn’t.”
“Probably.”
“What do you need?”
“Nothing from you tonight.”
I ignored that.
“Where is Grant?”
“We don’t know.”
Vanessa suddenly spoke.
“I might.”
We both looked at her.
Grant owned a condo in Milwaukee that Vanessa believed had been sold.
She had recently discovered he still paid association fees.
“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” I asked.
“Because until yesterday I thought it was an investment property.”
Daniel’s voice sharpened.
“Do not go there.”
“We weren’t planning to.”
Vanessa looked at me.
I looked at Vanessa.
We were absolutely thinking about it.
Daniel knew us too well.
“I mean it, Claire.”
“We heard you.”
“Those words were not reassuring.”
After the call ended, Vanessa pulled out her phone.
She opened a shared photo album.
“Grant’s location sharing is off.”
“That’s not surprising.”
“But his old iPad is still connected to our family account.”
A location appeared.
Milwaukee.
The condo.
I stared at the screen.
“We call Daniel.”
“I know.”
Vanessa zoomed in.
Then frowned.
“What?”
“There are two devices.”
One was Grant’s tablet.
The other was labeled Dad Office Backup.
My father had a device at Grant’s secret condo.
Before I could process that, another location marker appeared.
Mom’s iPhone.
Moving north.
Toward Milwaukee.
Vanessa went white.
“Why is Mom going there?”
I grabbed my phone.
She called Mom.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
A third time.
Straight to voicemail.
Twenty minutes later, Mom finally called me back.
Her voice was shaking.
“Claire, don’t be angry.”
“Where are you?”
“I had to see him.”
“Grant?”
“He called me.”
Vanessa grabbed my wrist.
“Why?”
Mom began crying.
“He said he has something that could destroy your father.”
My stomach dropped.
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m outside the condo.”
“Do not go inside.”
“Claire—”
“Mom, listen to me. Stay in the car.”
Silence.
Then I heard a car door close.
“Mom?”
A male voice sounded faintly in the background.
Grant.
Then the call disconnected.
Vanessa and I stared at each other.
My phone immediately buzzed with a text.
From Mom.
Except the wording didn’t sound like her.
COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO KEEP THIS FAMILY OUT OF PRISON.
Attached was a photograph.
Mom sitting inside Grant’s condo.
And on the table in front of her was a document with my father’s signature.
Across the top were the words:
FOUNDERS’ REPRODUCTIVE DATA PROGRAM.
Vanessa whispered, “What is that?”
I didn’t know.
But beneath Dad’s signature was another one.
May you like
A signature I recognized.
My mother’s.
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