Chapter 2 - WESLEY SAYS NOTHINGBy breakfast, Priscilla had transformed the previous night into a misunderstanding.
That was another one of her talents.
Foxmere House ran on staff routines whether its family was collapsing or not. Coffee arrived at seven. Newspapers were folded beside Charles Fairmont’s old silver letter opener. Fresh flowers were replaced every Tuesday and Friday. June ate blueberries from the same porcelain bowl she had used since she was three.
Nothing about the morning suggested that the adults at the table had learned a fertility clinic might have falsified June’s biological conception.
Priscilla entered at eight-fifteen dressed in pale gray.
“Good morning, darling.”
She kissed June’s hair.
June smiled.
“Grandma, I drew a fox.”
“Of course you did.”
No tension.
No mention.
Nadia watched her mother-in-law perform normality and understood exactly why Wesley had spent his life avoiding conflict.
Priscilla made denial feel like civilization.
Nadia waited until June left for kindergarten with her nanny and driver.
Then she closed the breakfast-room door.
“We’re going to talk.”
Priscilla lifted coffee.
“I have a foundation call at nine.”
“Cancel.”
“Nadia.”
Wesley entered before the argument grew.
He had changed into a charcoal suit.
His face looked exhausted.
Nadia placed clinic file on table.
“Tell me what you knew.”
Wesley closed door behind him.
“June is not part of this conversation.”
“She isn’t here.”
“I mean emotionally.”
“I agree.”
Priscilla said:
“Then perhaps stop trying to destroy her family because of one clinic letter.”
Nadia stared.
“You still think my questions are problem?”
“I think your tendency toward drama is.”
“Twenty-two half-siblings.”
“Donor banks have limits, but large families exist.”
“Different donor numbers.”
“Administrative error.”
“A doctor you knew thirty years ago.”
Priscilla’s jaw tightened.
Wesley sat.
“Nadia, what do you want?”
She looked at husband.
“For you to stop talking like attorney and start talking like man who was in room when I conceived our daughter.”
He flinched.
“Fine.”
“Did you know Kline before we chose his clinic?”
“Yes.”
There.
Nadia had expected denial.
The admission was worse.
“How?”
“My mother knew him socially.”
Priscilla said:
“That is all.”
Nadia ignored.
“How socially?”
Wesley looked at Priscilla.
Nadia laughed without humor.
“Every time you look at her before answering, you answer me.”
He lowered eyes.
“My father knew him too.”
“For what?”
“Medical.”
“Whose?”
Priscilla interrupted.
“This is private family history.”
Nadia turned.
“I married into this family ten years ago.”
“I carried your granddaughter.”
“My reproductive consent may have been violated by a man in your family photographs.”
“Stop calling information private when privacy only protects you.”
Priscilla’s face hardened.
Wesley said:
“My father had fertility issues.”
Nadia went still.
Priscilla stood.
“Enough.”
Wesley looked at his mother.
“She already knows something.”
“She knows nothing.”
“Then tell.”
Priscilla walked toward window.
For the first time, Nadia saw fear beneath elegance.
Not fear of scandal only.
Something older.
Wesley spoke:
“My parents had trouble having children.”
Nadia’s pulse accelerated.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Were you conceived through fertility treatment?”
Wesley did not answer.
Nadia whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Priscilla turned.
“This has nothing to do with June.”
“How can you possibly know?”
“It was thirty-eight years ago.”
“And same doctor.”
“Kline was young.”
“He worked under another physician.”
“Was he your doctor?”
Priscilla said nothing.
Wesley rubbed forehead.
“Nadia, please.”
She looked at him.
“Did you know you were donor conceived?”
His face changed.
The answer existed there before words.
“Yes.”
Nadia stared.
“How long?”
“Since I was twenty-nine.”
“Nine years.”
“Yes.”
“You knew before we married.”
“Yes.”
The betrayal landed in a new place.
Not because Nadia believed spouses must reveal every private medical fact immediately.
Because they had spent years discussing donor conception.
They attended counseling about genetic identity.
Wesley had sat beside her while a therapist asked how each felt raising a child conceived with donor sperm.
He never said:
I was donor conceived too.
Nadia whispered:
“You watched me worry June might someday feel different from you.”
“I know.”
“You told me biology wasn’t everything.”
“I believe that.”
“You could have told me why.”
“I couldn’t.”
“Why?”
Wesley looked at Priscilla.
There again.
Nadia turned toward her.
“What did you make him promise?”
Priscilla’s voice became cold.
“Nothing.”
Wesley laughed bitterly.
“Mother.”
Priscilla looked.
Wesley’s eyes were red.
“You made everyone promise.”
Nadia’s skin prickled.
“Everyone?”
Wesley stood.
“My father knew.”
“My mother.”
“Kline.”
“A lawyer.”
“Who was donor?”
Priscilla said:
“That is irrelevant.”
Nadia stared.
“Is it Simon Kline?”
Silence.
Priscilla’s mouth tightened.
Wesley looked at floor.
Nadia felt the room tilt.
“Wesley.”
He did not answer.
She moved closer.
“Is Dr. Kline your biological father?”
Priscilla slammed nothing, shouted nothing.
She simply said:
“You do not have right to ask that.”
That was confirmation enough.
Nadia turned back toward Wesley.
His face had collapsed.
“I found out through private DNA test.”
“When?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“I was helping a friend test ancestry.”
“I matched Kline as biological parent.”
Nadia sat.
The implications came slowly and then all at once.
Simon Kline.
Wesley’s biological father.
Simon Kline.
Their fertility doctor.
Twenty-two paternal half-siblings for June.
Wesley already knew.
Nadia looked at him.
“What was our donor number?”
“D-417.”
“Who was donor supposed to be?”
“Anonymous screened donor.”
“Who was actually used?”
Wesley whispered:
“I don’t know.”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You knew enough to say leave it alone.”
He closed eyes.
“Five years ago, after June was born, I received a DNA notification.”
Nadia stopped.
“What?”
“I had uploaded my raw data years before.”
“A match appeared.”
“June?”
“No.”
“Another child.”
“Someone conceived at Kline’s clinic.”
Nadia stared.
“How close?”
“Half-sibling.”
“So another child of Kline.”
“Yes.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I didn’t know what it meant.”
“You knew your biological father was fertility doctor producing children.”
“I knew Kline had donated sperm when younger.”
“Did he tell you?”
“My mother did.”
Nadia looked at Priscilla.
She remained silent.
Wesley continued:
“She said he had been donor in medical school.”
“I thought maybe another donor child.”
“Then June?”
His hands shook.
“Last year, June’s pediatric genetic screening for that cardiac panel…”
Nadia remembered.
June had a harmless murmur. Pediatric cardiologist ordered broad panel because Fairmont family had history.
“It returned paternal-family markers.”
Wesley nodded.
“I asked clinic privately.”
Nadia felt rage.
“You contacted clinic about our child without me?”
“I asked if donor identity could explain.”
“What did they say?”
“Kline called me.”
Priscilla turned sharply.
Even she had not known this.
Good.
“What did Kline say?”
Wesley swallowed.
“He told me sometimes old donor samples were transferred between storage systems.”
“He said not to overinterpret consumer DNA.”
“And you believed?”
“No.”
“What else?”
“He said… if I cared about my family, I should not pursue.”
Nadia stared.
Exact logic.
Leave it alone.
“What did you think that meant?”
“I thought maybe donor was related to him.”
“A son.”
“Another Kline.”
“Why not tell me?”
“Because June was healthy.”
“Because you loved her.”
“Because I loved her.”
“Because I knew what genetic secrets did to me.”
“And because…”
He stopped.
“Because what?”
Priscilla spoke:
“Because he understood some truths do not improve lives.”
Nadia turned on her.
“You are not deciding that for my daughter.”
Priscilla looked almost offended.
“You think truth automatically noble.”
“It is not.”
“Sometimes truth is vanity.”
“No.”
“Sometimes secrecy is control.”
Wesley sat again.
Nadia’s anger at him remained, but something else entered.
Pity.
He had been raised inside a genetic secret so heavily guarded that he now believed hiding another one protected June.
Trauma repeating.
Still wrongdoing.
She said:
“I need your DNA file.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Nadia.”
“Do you match June?”
Silence.
Priscilla’s face changed.
She knew the question.
Wesley looked at his wife.
“There was a match.”
“What percentage?”
“I don’t remember exactly.”
Lie.
“Wesley.”
“Twenty-four point something.”
Nadia stopped breathing.
A biological father and child share approximately fifty percent.
Half-siblings often share around twenty-five.
Wesley and June shared about twenty-five.
The room went silent.
Nadia whispered:
“June is genetically your half-sister.”
Priscilla closed her eyes.
Wesley started crying.
“No.”
Nadia looked at him.
“That’s what number means if Kline is father of both.”
“No.”
“It could be uncle relationship.”
“Through who?”
He had no answer.
Priscilla spoke quietly:
“That test was not clinical.”
Nadia turned.
“You already knew result?”
Priscilla did not answer.
Wesley looked at his mother.
“Mother?”
There.
Something new.
He had never told Priscilla the percentage.
Yet her response was too informed.
Nadia stood.
“You knew.”
Priscilla’s posture stiffened.
“You knew before Wesley did.”
“No.”
“You knew Kline’s DNA could be in June.”
“Nadia, stop.”
“How?”
Priscilla walked toward door.
Nadia moved in front.
“No.”
Priscilla’s eyes flashed.
“Move.”
“Not until you answer.”
Wesley stood between them, not touching.
“Nadia.”
She looked.
He was shaking.
“My mother chose clinic.”
Nadia stared.
“What?”
“I suggested three.”
“She pushed Kline’s.”
Priscilla said:
“I knew his reputation.”
Wesley’s face showed horror slowly dawning.
“Did you speak to him before our treatment?”
Priscilla said nothing.
“Mother.”
Nothing.
His voice cracked.
“Did you ask him to choose our donor?”
Priscilla looked at son.
For the first time, her certainty weakened.
“I wanted your child to be connected to you.”
Nadia went cold.
Wesley stopped moving.
“What did you do?”
Priscilla whispered:
“I protected this family.”
And Nadia understood the dinner accusation from the night before in a new, terrible way.
Priscilla had called June “another man’s child.”
Not because she believed Nadia cheated.
May you like
Because she knew exactly which man’s biological child June might be.
And she had been counting on everyone else never finding out.
Related Stories
