Chapter 8 - Sarah Left A Letter For Emily
Ward’s testimony uncovered another surprise.
Sarah Mercer had known Emily’s identity before she died.
Richard’s first wife discovered the donor code while investigating
Noah’s medical condition.
She traced EC-18 to Andrew Cole.
Then to Emily.
At the time, Emily was twenty-one and attending college in
Massachusetts.
Sarah never contacted her.
Instead, she wrote a letter.
Investigators found it in an evidence box William had hidden.
Emily opened it at Claire’s kitchen table.
Dear Emily,
You do not know me, and I hope you never need to.
My son Noah was created using an egg taken from you without your
knowledge.
Emily stopped.
Her vision blurred.
She continued.
I need you to know that I did not know. If I had known, I would never
have agreed.
Noah is four now. He loves dinosaurs, blueberries, and sleeping with one
sock off.
Emily laughed through tears.
A real child.
Not a genetic result.
Not a case number.
Sarah wrote about Noah’s laugh.
His fear of thunder.
The way he called spaghetti “pasketti.”
Emily cried harder.
Then:
I am his mother because I have been the one awake beside his bed. But
you are part of him too, and that truth belongs to you even if nobody
else wants you to have it.
Claire squeezed Emily’s hand.
Sarah had understood years before any of them.
Motherhood did not need to become a competition.
The letter continued.
If something happens to me, there is one person I do not trust: William
Mercer.
Richard does not know what his father did.
At least I don’t believe he does.
Emily looked up.
That supported Richard’s claim.
She kept reading.
If Noah dies before I can expose this, please do not let anyone turn him
into proof that the experiment failed. He was not an experiment.
Emily covered her face.
Benjamin slept nearby.
Sophie played soccer thousands of miles away.
Noah had been the first.
He deserved to be remembered as a child.
The final paragraph was addressed directly to Emily.
I am sorry the truth connects us through something neither of us chose.
If we ever meet, I hope it is not as rivals. I hope we can simply be two
women who loved the same little boy in different ways.
Emily folded the letter.
“She loved him.”
Claire nodded.
“So did you, maybe.”
Emily shook her head.
“I didn’t know him.”
“You can grieve someone you didn’t know.”
Emily looked at Noah’s photograph included with the letter.
For the first time, she allowed herself to say:
“My son.”
Not instead of Sarah’s.
Alongside it.
That distinction mattered.
Emily asked Richard for Noah’s belongings.
He brought them in boxes.
A dinosaur blanket.
Tiny shoes.
Drawings.
A plastic stegosaurus with one missing leg.
Richard sat across from her.
“He carried that everywhere.”
Emily held the toy.
“Why didn’t you tell me six months ago?”
Richard looked down.
“Because I was afraid you’d leave.”
“So you chose yourself.”
“Yes.”
“And when Margaret switched the embryo?”
“I found out too late.”
“But at the hospital you tried to take Benjamin.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Richard’s eyes filled.
“I thought if we got him out before the test entered the medical record,
I could stop Margaret’s secret from becoming public.”
Emily stared.
“You were still protecting the family name.”
“Yes.”
“Not Benjamin.”
Richard whispered, “No.”
“Not me.”
“No.”
Emily nodded.
It hurt.
But the truth was finally plain.
Richard continued.
“I’m in therapy.”
“That’s good.”
“I’m not saying it to get you back.”
“Good.”
“I signed the separation agreement.”
Emily looked at him.
Their marriage was ending.
She knew that.
Still, seeing his signature hurt.
“I loved you,” Richard said.
Emily’s eyes filled.
“I loved you too.”
Neither said love was enough.
They had learned better.
Richard looked at Benjamin.
“Can I see him someday?”
Emily did not answer immediately.
“Not now.”
Richard nodded.
“Okay.”
“If that changes, it will be because it is safe and healthy for him.”
“I understand.”
“And supervised.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked at Noah’s toy.
“Richard?”
He paused.
“Tell me about Noah.”
May you like
Richard sat again.
For the next two hours, he did.
