CHAPTER 3 — THE WOMAN BEHIND THE GLASS
CHAPTER 3 — THE WOMAN BEHIND THE GLASS
The address Dr. Vance had given me belonged to an old private clinic on the north side of Chicago.
It had been abandoned for almost a year.
The sign above the entrance was cracked.
Several windows were boarded up.
The parking lot was empty except for one black sedan.
I parked behind the building.
My hand remained on the steering wheel for several seconds.
I could still hear Dr. Vance's voice in my head.
The person responsible is someone you trusted more than anyone.
Sienna.
The thought made my stomach twist.
But another voice inside me refused to accept it.
Not completely.
Sienna had betrayed me.
That much was certain.
She had carried my child.
She had known the embryo wasn't hers.
She had lied.
But was she the person who had planned everything?
I didn't know.
And I was tired of guessing.
I stepped out of the car.
The wind was bitter.
I pulled my coat tighter and walked toward the side entrance.
The door was unlocked.
Inside, the building smelled of dust and disinfectant.
A single light flickered at the end of the corridor.
"Dr. Shaw?"
No answer.
I walked farther.
"Dr. Shaw, it's Clara Hart."
A door opened.
I stopped.
A woman stepped into the hallway.
She was in her late fifties.
Thin.
Pale.
Her gray hair was pulled into a loose knot.
She wore a dark coat and held a small leather bag against her chest.
She stared at me.
"You came alone."
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Where's Dr. Vance?"
"He's waiting nearby."
She looked relieved.
Then she locked the door behind her.
"Why are we in an abandoned clinic?"
"Because no one comes here."
"Who are you hiding from?"
She looked at me.
"Everyone."
My throat tightened.
"Did you transfer my embryo?"
Her eyes filled with regret.
"Yes."
The word hit me harder than I expected.
"You did it?"
"I assisted."
"Who ordered you?"
She looked away.
"I can't answer that."
"You can."
"No."
She opened her bag.
"I've spent the last year terrified of answering that question."
She removed a small envelope.
"I lost my job."
"My husband left me."
"My house was searched."
"My bank accounts were frozen."
"And I was told that if I spoke, my daughter would disappear."
My heart stopped.
"Who threatened you?"
She looked at me.
"Marianne Blackwood."
I closed my eyes.
So it was her.
Or at least I thought it was.
"What exactly did she order?"
Dr. Shaw hesitated.
"She didn't give the order directly."
I frowned.
"Then who did?"
"Her assistant."
"Name?"
"Eleanor Price."
I had never heard of her.
"What did she do?"
"She delivered the documents."
"What documents?"
"The transfer authorization."
I remembered the forged signature.
"Was Julian's signature already on it?"
"No."
"Then who forged it?"
Dr. Shaw's eyes dropped.
"I did."
I stared at her.
"You?"
She nodded.
"I was instructed to make it look as though Julian had authorized the transfer."
"Why?"
"Because Marianne wanted you to believe Julian had betrayed you."
I felt cold.
"So the divorce was part of the plan."
"Yes."
"She wanted Julian to leave me."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Dr. Shaw looked at me.
"Because she wanted Sienna to become the mother of the Blackwood heir."
I swallowed.
"Why Sienna?"
"Because she could be controlled."
I almost laughed.
"Sienna?"
"Yes."
"She was my best friend."
"That's why."
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
Dr. Shaw's expression hardened.
"Marianne knew Sienna would do anything for you."
My heart sank.
"Anything?"
"She knew Sienna had been trying to have a child for years."
"And she offered her mine."
"Not exactly."
Dr. Shaw looked toward the hallway.
"Marianne didn't offer her your child."
"She offered her a deal."
"What deal?"
Dr. Shaw lowered her voice.
"She told Sienna that if she carried the embryo, she would be protected from a lawsuit involving her own fertility clinic."
I stared at her.
"What lawsuit?"
"Medical malpractice."
"Who was suing her?"
"No one."
I frowned.
"Then why?"
"Because Marianne created the threat."
The pieces began to connect.
"She blackmailed her."
"Yes."
"Sienna had no choice."
Dr. Shaw hesitated.
"Everyone has a choice."
I looked at her.
"Did Sienna know the embryo belonged to me?"
"Yes."
"From the beginning?"
"Yes."
My eyes burned.
"Did she know Julian's sperm was used?"
"Yes."
I looked away.
That hurt more than anything.
Because Sienna had looked into my eyes every day.
She had watched me suffer.
And she had known.
"Then why did she marry him?"
Dr. Shaw was silent.
I looked back at her.
"Why?"
"Because Marianne promised her something."
"What?"
"Security."
"For her?"
"For her child."
I swallowed.
"What did she promise?"
Dr. Shaw looked directly at me.
"She promised Sienna that once the child was born, Julian would divorce you and marry her."
I felt like I had been punched.
It explained everything.
The timing.
The pregnancy.
The divorce.
The sudden wedding plans.
The charity.
The house.
They hadn't just stolen my child.
They had built an entire future around him.
A future that had been designed before I even knew I had lost him.
I whispered:
"How long?"
Dr. Shaw frowned.
"How long what?"
"How long had they planned it?"
She looked at me.
"Six months."
My blood ran cold.
"Six months before my treatment?"
She nodded.
"They had already decided."
I stepped backward.
Six months.
Before the treatment.
Before the failed procedure.
Before Julian started acting distant.
Before Sienna began visiting me every day.
Before I ever knew something was wrong.
The plan had existed while I was still happily married.
I suddenly remembered something.
Sienna had insisted on accompanying me to the fertility clinic.
She had said:
"You shouldn't go through this alone."
I had thanked her.
I had trusted her.
I had loved her.
And she had been standing beside me while they planned to take my child.
I closed my eyes.
"There's something you haven't told me."
Dr. Shaw said nothing.
"You're afraid of something."
She looked toward the window.
"There is another person involved."
"Who?"
"I don't know her name."
"You expect me to believe that?"
"I never met her."
"Then how do you know she's involved?"
"Because she was the only person Marianne was afraid of."
That caught my attention.
"Marianne was afraid?"
"Terrified."
"Of whom?"
Dr. Shaw shook her head.
"I don't know."
"Then what did you see?"
She took a slow breath.
"The night before the transfer, Marianne came to the clinic."
"She wasn't alone."
"Who was with her?"
"A woman."
"What did she look like?"
Dr. Shaw closed her eyes.
"I remember her hair."
"What color?"
"Black."
"Anything else?"
"She wore gloves."
"Why?"
"I don't know."
"What did she say?"
Dr. Shaw hesitated.
"She told Marianne that if anything went wrong, the entire plan would collapse."
I frowned.
"Anything else?"
"Yes."
"What?"
Dr. Shaw's voice dropped.
"She told Marianne that Clara could never know about the second embryo."
My heart stopped.
"Second embryo?"
Dr. Shaw looked at me.
"Yes."
The room seemed to tilt.
"What second embryo?"
She opened her bag again.
This time, she removed a photograph.
It showed a laboratory storage cabinet.
Several containers were visible.
Each had a number.
She pointed to one.
"Your eggs produced two viable embryos."
I stared at the photograph.
"Two?"
"Yes."
"What happened to the second one?"
Dr. Shaw looked at me.
"It disappeared."
"When?"
"The same night."
"Was it transferred?"
"No."
"Destroyed?"
"No."
"Then where is it?"
"I don't know."
I stared at her.
"You expect me to believe someone stole my second embryo?"
She nodded.
"That's what I believe."
"Why?"
"Because the records were altered."
I felt dizzy.
"Who altered them?"
"I don't know."
"Dr. Shaw."
"I swear."
"Then why was the second embryo important?"
She looked at me.
"Because the first embryo wasn't the real reason they wanted your fertility records."
I stared at her.
"What?"
She stepped closer.
"They needed your genetic material."
My skin prickled.
"Why?"
She didn't answer.
"Why did they need my genetics?"
She looked at the door.
Then whispered:
"Because your family has something they wanted."
I froze.
"My family?"
"Your mother."
"My mother died when I was sixteen."
Dr. Shaw shook her head.
"That's what you were told."
The words barely registered.
"What?"
"Your mother didn't die."
I stared at her.
"That's impossible."
"I saw her."
"When?"
"At the clinic."
"When?"
"The day your embryo was transferred."
I couldn't breathe.
Dr. Shaw looked at me with pity.
"She was standing behind the glass."
My heart hammered.
"Where?"
"Observation room."
"What was she doing?"
"Watching."
"Watching what?"
"You."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Why would my mother watch me?"
"I don't know."
"You said she was alive."
"Yes."
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know."
I grabbed the edge of the table.
"Dr. Shaw, you need to tell me everything."
She looked terrified.
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because if she's still alive..."
She swallowed.
"...then she knows you are looking for her."
A sound came from the hallway.
Both of us froze.
Footsteps.
Slow.
Measured.
Approaching.
Dr. Shaw's face went white.
"Who's there?"
No answer.
The footsteps stopped outside the door.
I looked at Dr. Shaw.
"Did you tell anyone I was coming?"
She shook her head.
"No."
The door handle moved.
Once.
Twice.
Then stopped.
I stepped backward.
Dr. Shaw whispered:
"Get behind me."
"You're a doctor."
"I'm also a mother."
The handle turned again.
The door opened.
A man stepped inside.
Black coat.
Gray hair.
No expression.
I recognized him.
I had seen him once at Julian's family home.
Marianne's personal attorney.
Mr. Theodore Grant.
He looked at Dr. Shaw.
Then at me.
"Ms. Hart."
My heart pounded.
"What are you doing here?"
He smiled.
"Mrs. Blackwood would like a word."
I stared at him.
"She sent you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
His smile disappeared.
"Because she knows what Dr. Shaw just told you."
Dr. Shaw began shaking.
I looked at her.
"What did she tell me?"
Mr. Grant answered.
"About your mother."
The room went silent.
He reached inside his coat.
I stepped back.
He pulled out a photograph.
Then placed it on the table.
I looked down.
My hands began to tremble.
It was an old photograph.
A woman stood beside a young girl.
The girl was me.
The woman was my mother.
Alive.
Standing beside me.
And behind them—
stood Marianne Blackwood.
But that wasn't the part that terrified me.
On the back of the photograph was a handwritten date.
Six months before Clara's fertility treatment.
I looked at Mr. Grant.
"Why?"
He leaned closer.
"Because your mother wasn't the victim."
My heart stopped.
"She was the reason this entire plan began."
He turned toward the door.
"Come with me."
I didn't move.
"Where?"
"To see your mother."
The words echoed through the room.
I stared at him.
For sixteen years, I had believed my mother was dead.
For one year, I had believed I was infertile.
For one hour, I had believed Sienna was the mastermind.
Now I knew none of those things were true.
And suddenly, the woman behind the glass wasn't Sienna.
It wasn't Marianne.
It wasn't even my mother.
May you like
It was the truth itself—
and I was finally close enough to see her face.
