Chapter 7 - SOMEONE ELSE’S ULTRASOUND
Claire Benton wanted to confront Vivian immediately.
Margaret refused.
They met at a coffee shop in Cary where none of the Hale family usually went.
Claire was thirty-two, practical, visibly uncomfortable with conspiracy.
“I feel ridiculous,” she said. “Like we’re in some television show.”
“So do I.”
“That makes me feel worse.”
Margaret slid printed copies of the two images across the table.
Claire stared at them.
“That’s mine.”
“You’re certain?”
Claire pointed.
“That little annotation. The technician was trying to measure the crown-rump length, and the baby kept moving. I remember because she joked about it.”
“Do you know when you sent it to Vivian?”
Claire searched her messages.
“January twenty-third.”
Vivian announced her pregnancy in April.
Claire’s expression changed.
“She asked me questions.”
“What questions?”
“About when ultrasounds happen. What the doctor tells you. What size the baby is at different weeks.”
Margaret felt cold.
“Did that seem strange?”
“At the time? No. Vivian told me someone she knew was pregnant.”
“Who?”
“She never said.”
Claire scrolled farther.
Then stopped.
“Oh.”
“What?”
She turned the phone around.
A message from Vivian:
If someone was 10 weeks, could an ultrasound look like yours?
Claire had responded:
Probably? Every baby is different lol. Why?
Vivian:
Just curious.
Margaret photographed nothing.
She asked Claire to export the thread and send it directly to Rebecca.
Claire frowned.
“Why your lawyer?”
“Because if I’m wrong, I don’t want to destroy someone’s life with gossip.”
“And if you’re right?”
Margaret looked at the copied ultrasound.
“Then Vivian has already tried to destroy mine.”
That afternoon Elliot called Margaret for the first time in four days.
His voice was clipped.
“Did you contact Claire?”
Margaret’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Vivian says you’re harassing her friends.”
“Claire contacted Vivian?”
“No. Claire told someone, who told Louise, who called Vivian.”
Family secrecy.
Exactly as expected.
“I asked Claire a question.”
“About her medical history.”
“I asked where she had prenatal scans.”
“Do you understand how inappropriate this is?”
Margaret laughed once.
“You slapped me because your wife accused me of attempted harm, and now you’re lecturing me about manners?”
“Mom.”
“No, Elliot.”
“She says you’re trying to prove she stole somebody’s ultrasound.”
Margaret went silent.
Vivian knew.
Elliot continued.
“Did you tell Claire that?”
Margaret could have lied.
She did not.
“I told Claire an image Vivian posted appears to match one Claire sent her months earlier.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Ask Vivian to show you the original file.”
“What?”
“The ultrasound she posted. Ask for the original image from the clinic.”
“You think I’m going to interrogate my pregnant wife because you compared screenshots?”
“No. I think you’re going to refuse because part of you is frightened I might be right.”
He inhaled sharply.
“That’s enough.”
“Then answer one question.”
“No.”
“When was the last time you personally attended a prenatal appointment?”
Silence.
Margaret heard him shift.
“Her doctor has scheduling restrictions.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“When?”
“You have no right—”
“Elliot.”
He hung up.
Margaret stared at the phone.
At the Hale residence, Vivian was furious.
Not panicked.
Furious.
She stood in the kitchen while Elliot paced.
“How did she get Claire’s ultrasound?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Claire give it to her?”
“I don’t know.”
“Is the image yours?”
Vivian looked at him.
There it was.
The first direct question.
Not an accusation.
Still dangerous.
She made her face go blank.
“Seriously?”
“I’m asking.”
“You’re asking your pregnant wife whether she stole someone else’s ultrasound?”
“I’m trying to shut this down.”
“No. You’re considering it.”
“Vivian—”
She stood.
“Give me your phone.”
“What?”
“Call your mother.”
“Why?”
“Tell her she got what she wanted.”
“What are you talking about?”
Vivian’s voice broke.
“Tell her she finally made you doubt whether your own baby is real.”
Elliot softened instantly.
Vivian turned away.
He followed.
“Viv.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That woman shoved me down stairs.”
He flinched.
“And now she gets to make me prove I’m pregnant?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Vivian walked upstairs.
Elliot remained in the kitchen.
For the first time, however, he did not immediately follow.
He looked at the family group on his phone.
He found Vivian’s ultrasound photograph.
Zoomed in.
The image was grainy.
Generic.
He knew nothing about ultrasounds.
Still, Margaret’s question echoed.
When was the last time you personally attended a prenatal appointment?
The answer was embarrassing.
Never.
Vivian had told him the earliest appointment was routine.
He had been in Atlanta for another.
The next had supposedly been rescheduled because her doctor was delivering a baby.
Then Vivian said the practice had limited partners during a software transition.
Each excuse sounded plausible separately.
Together?
Elliot locked his phone.
He went upstairs.
Vivian was sitting in bed crying.
He apologized.
The doubt retreated.
But it did not disappear.
And for Vivian, that was unacceptable.
Later that night she called Miles.
“Margaret found Claire.”
Miles swore.
“You said Claire wouldn’t remember.”
“She remembers.”
“You need to end this.”
“I am.”
“How?”
Vivian looked toward the closed bathroom door where Elliot was brushing his teeth.
“I’m going to make Margaret look unstable enough that nothing she finds matters.”
Miles went silent.
“Vivian.”
“What?”
“You’re not trying to protect a lie anymore.”
“No?”
“You’re trying to destroy anyone who can expose it.”
Vivian smiled coldly.
May you like
“That’s usually how protecting a lie works.”
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