My mother stood.
“We need to leave.”
“No,” I said.
She stared at me.
“Amelia, you do not understand what these people are capable of.”
“I understand that running has protected everyone except me.”
“Your father tried to keep you safe.”
“And he also kept me blind.”
I reached for her hand.
“I am not blaming you for what happened before I was born. But I need you to stop deciding that ignorance is the same as safety.”
Her eyes filled.
For a moment, she looked not like my mother, but like a frightened young woman who had entered a medical trial because she wanted a child.
“I was afraid you would think I was not your real mother,” she whispered.
The ache in her voice dissolved something inside me.
I squeezed her hand.
“You carried me. You raised me. You loved me.”
A tear slipped down her cheek.
“No test can make you less my mother.”
She bowed her head and pressed my hand to her face.
For the first time since she entered, I felt the distance between us begin to close.
The door opened again.
Daniel stepped inside carrying a folder.
“I obtained a copy of the hospital record,” he said.
“My birth certificate?”
“Not exactly.”
He placed a faded document on the table.
The certificate listed Margaret Hayes as my mother.
The line for father did not name Samuel.
It carried a code.
DONOR 7-C.
“What does that mean?” I asked.
Daniel turned another page.
“The hospital used donor codes in the research trial. I found a partial index in an archived court filing.”
He looked toward my mother.
“Donor 7-C appears in records connected to three children.”
“Three?” she whispered.
“Yes.”
My heartbeat quickened.
“Who are the others?”
“One identity is sealed. The second is deceased.”
“And the third?”
Daniel met my eyes.
“Richard.”
No one spoke.
The possibility entered the room before anyone dared shape it into words.
My mother gripped the edge of the table.
“That cannot mean what it appears to mean.”
Daniel shook his head.
“Not necessarily. Donor codes were reused, altered, and sometimes assigned to sample groups rather than individuals. We need the original records.”
I stared at the paper.
Richard and I had been told we came from the same trial.
Now the records suggested something far more disturbing.
Could we share a biological father?
Could our child be at risk?
Was that why Richard warned against testing the baby?
