PART 2 — THE THING THE TEST COULDN’T EXPLAIN
I stared at Dr. Ortiz.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood her.
“What do you mean, whether there’s actually a baby?”
She lowered the laboratory report.
“A positive pregnancy test tells us that Sophie has elevated levels of a hormone called hCG. Pregnancy is the most common reason for that.”
“The most common?”
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
Dr. Ortiz nodded.
“But it isn’t the only reason.”
Something about the way she said those words frightened me even more than the test result had.
Sophie tightened both hands around her stuffed bunny.
“So I might not be pregnant?”
“We don’t know yet,” Dr. Ortiz said gently. “That’s why we need the ultrasound.”
Relief flashed across Sophie’s face.
Mine didn’t come so easily.
Because I had noticed something.
Dr. Ortiz still looked worried.
Very worried.
“What else can cause it?” I asked.
Her eyes met mine.
“There are several possibilities. I don’t want to speculate before we have imaging.”
“That means some of those possibilities are bad.”
“Mrs. Morgan—”
“Please.”
I moved closer to her.
“Everybody outside that door already thinks someone assaulted my daughter. Her biological father is accusing my husband in the middle of the hospital. My ten-year-old thinks she might be having a baby. I need you to tell me what you’re thinking.”
Dr. Ortiz hesitated.
Then she glanced toward Sophie.
“We should discuss that privately.”
“No.”
Sophie’s voice surprised both of us.
She wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her sweatshirt.
“I want to know.”
“Sophie—”
“Mom, everybody keeps talking about me like I’m not here.”
My heart broke a little at those words.
She was right.
I reached for her hand.
Dr. Ortiz pulled her chair closer.
“All right. But remember, we don’t know what’s happening yet.”
Sophie nodded.
“Certain medical conditions can cause the body to produce hCG even when there is no pregnancy.”
“What kind of conditions?”
Dr. Ortiz chose her next words carefully.
“Sometimes unusual growths or tumors can produce hormones.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I heard Sophie inhale sharply.
“A tumor?”
“It is only one possibility.”
“In her brain?”
I immediately thought about the headaches.
The vomiting.
Walking into the lockers.
Dr. Ortiz didn’t answer quickly enough.
My stomach dropped.
“Her headaches,” I whispered.
“That’s one of the reasons I want imaging beyond the ultrasound.”
I stood so quickly that the chair behind me scraped against the floor.
“You think my daughter has cancer?”
“I did not say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
“I’m thinking we need more information.”
Sophie started crying again.
I immediately sat beside her.
“No, sweetheart. Look at me.”
She buried her face against my chest.
“I don’t want cancer.”
“You don’t know that you have anything like that.”
“But she said tumor.”
“She said it was one possibility.”
Outside the room, voices rose again.
Eric.
“I want him away from my daughter!”
Then Daniel.
“I’ve raised her since she was three years old!”
“You’re not her father!”
Sophie lifted her head.
Her face changed.
She pushed away from me.
“Make them stop.”
“I will.”
I stepped into the hallway.
Eric was standing about six feet from Daniel with a security officer between them.
Daniel looked destroyed.
Not angry.
Destroyed.
His eyes immediately found mine.
“What did the doctor say?”
Before I could answer, Eric interrupted.
“Why hasn’t anyone called the police?”
“Because nobody knows what happened yet.”
“We know exactly what happened.”
“No, Eric. We don’t.”
His jaw tightened.
“She’s ten, Rachel.”
“I know how old my daughter is.”
“And she lives with him.”
Daniel stared at Eric.
“I have changed that girl’s diapers. I taught her how to ride a bicycle. I sat beside her bed for three nights when she had pneumonia.”
“That doesn’t make you innocent.”
“No,” Daniel said quietly. “But Sophie saying I never touched her should count for something.”
Eric looked at me.
“You believe him?”
I didn’t hesitate.
“Yes.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
Eric stared at me as if I had betrayed him.
“You’re choosing your husband over your daughter.”
“No. I’m listening to my daughter.”
I stepped closer.
“She said nobody touched her.”
“Children lie when they’re afraid.”
“And adults make accusations when they’re afraid.”
That stopped him.
For half a second, neither of us spoke.
Then Eric pointed toward the room.
“If that test is positive, something happened.”
“The doctor says there might not be a pregnancy.”
Eric’s expression changed.
“What?”
“They’re doing an ultrasound.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know yet.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
But I wasn’t going to tell him about the word tumor in the middle of a hallway.
Daniel watched my face.
He knew me too well.
“What aren’t you telling us?”
“Daniel.”
“What did the doctor say?”
I couldn’t answer.
And that was answer enough.
His anger disappeared.
“Rachel?”
I felt my throat tighten.
“They don’t know why the hormone is elevated.”
He stared at me.
“What does that mean?”
“They’re checking other possibilities.”
“What possibilities?”
Before I could respond, a nurse appeared behind me.
“Mrs. Morgan? Radiology is ready.”
I went back inside.
Sophie immediately reached for me.
As they wheeled her bed down the hallway, she looked through the rail toward Daniel.
“Can he come?”
The nurse glanced at the social worker.
The social worker shook her head.
“Not yet.”
Sophie began crying.
Daniel walked beside the bed as far as security allowed him.
“I’ll be here when you come back, bug.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She held out her pinkie.
Daniel hooked his pinkie around hers.
Then the bed rolled away.
I looked back once.
Daniel remained standing in the hallway.
Eric stood twenty feet behind him.
Neither man spoke.
But Eric was staring at Daniel with something I couldn’t understand.
It wasn’t only anger anymore.
There was something else.
Fear.
The ultrasound room was dim and cold.
Sophie lay on the table while a technician named Melissa explained what she was going to do.
“This won’t hurt.”
“Are you looking for a baby?”
Melissa paused.
“We’re going to take pictures so your doctor can understand what’s happening.”
Sophie looked at me.
I squeezed her hand.
The technician put gel on Sophie’s abdomen and moved the probe slowly across her skin.
At first, I watched Sophie’s face.
Then I watched Melissa’s.
I wish I hadn’t.
Her expression changed.
It was subtle.
Her eyebrows tightened.
She moved the probe again.
Stopped.
Clicked something.
Measured.
Moved.
Stopped again.
“What do you see?”
“I can’t interpret the scan.”
“Is there a baby?”
“I need the radiologist to review the images.”
“Melissa.”
She didn’t look at me.
She captured another image.
Then another.
Sophie whispered, “Mom?”
“I’m right here.”
Melissa suddenly stood.
“I need to speak with the radiologist.”
She left the room.
The door clicked shut.
Sophie stared at the ultrasound monitor.
“There’s no baby picture.”
I followed her gaze.
I had seen enough ultrasound photographs online to recognize the shape of pregnancy.
There was nothing like that on the screen.
Only gray shadows and black spaces I couldn’t understand.
“That’s good,” I whispered.
“Then why did she leave?”
I didn’t have an answer.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
At twelve minutes, the door opened.
Dr. Ortiz walked in with another physician.
The stranger introduced himself as Dr. Shah, a pediatric radiologist.
He pulled a stool toward the bed.
“Mrs. Morgan, the ultrasound does not show a pregnancy.”
My entire body went weak.
I laughed and cried at the same time.
Sophie sat up.
“So I’m not pregnant?”
“No,” Dr. Shah said.
Sophie threw her arms around me.
I held her so tightly she complained that I was squeezing too hard.
“Sorry.”
I kissed her forehead.
“Oh, thank God.”
But Dr. Ortiz wasn’t smiling.
I noticed.
So did Sophie.
“Then what’s wrong with me?”
Dr. Shah turned the monitor toward us.
“There is something we need to investigate.”
He pointed to an area on the image.
I couldn’t tell what I was looking at.
“There appears to be a mass.”
The relief vanished so quickly it almost hurt.
“A mass where?”
“Near Sophie’s right ovary.”
I stared at him.
“How big?”
He showed me with his fingers.
Roughly the size of a small orange.
I looked at my daughter.
She weighed sixty-eight pounds.
The idea that something that large was growing inside her made me nauseous.
“Is it cancer?”
“We cannot determine that from an ultrasound.”
“But it could be.”
Dr. Shah hesitated.
“Yes.”
Sophie squeezed my hand.
“What happens now?”
“We’re going to do more imaging and blood tests.”
Dr. Ortiz stepped closer.
“There are certain ovarian tumors that can produce hCG.”
I suddenly understood.
“The pregnancy test.”
“Yes.”
My knees nearly gave out.
All those accusations.
All that screaming.
Daniel being treated like a criminal.
And all along, the positive test might have been coming from something growing inside my child.
But then Dr. Shah said something that made the situation stranger.
“The mass doesn’t fully explain her symptoms.”
I looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“The headaches and balance problems concern us separately.”
My mouth went dry.
“You think there are two things wrong with her?”
“We don’t know.”
“What do you want to do?”
“A brain MRI.”
Sophie immediately shook her head.
“No.”
“Honey—”
“I don’t want to go in the tube.”
She had needed an MRI once when she was six after falling from playground equipment.
She’d panicked so badly they couldn’t complete it.
Dr. Ortiz crouched beside her.
“We can give you medicine to help you sleep through it.”
“Will Mom stay?”
“I’ll be right outside.”
Sophie looked at me.
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
She nodded reluctantly.
As we returned to the emergency department, I expected to see Daniel waiting where we’d left him.
He wasn’t there.
Eric was.
He was sitting alone.
I stopped.
“Where’s Daniel?”
Eric stood.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“He left.”
My heart sank.
“He wouldn’t leave Sophie.”
“Well, he did.”
I pulled out my phone.
Three missed calls.
All from Daniel.
And one text.
RACHEL, CALL ME BEFORE YOU TALK TO ERIC.
I looked up.
Eric was watching me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I locked my phone.
His eyes narrowed.
“Did Daniel message you?”
“Why?”
“Because there’s something you need to know.”
My skin prickled.
“What?”
Eric glanced toward Sophie.
“Not in front of her.”
The social worker took Sophie into the room while Eric and I walked several feet down the hallway.
He lowered his voice.
“There’s something I should have told you years ago.”
I almost laughed.
“Today is not the day for mysterious confessions.”
“Rachel, listen to me.”
His face had gone pale.
“When Sophie was born, there was something strange in her medical records.”
I stared at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“She had hormone tests done.”
“When?”
“After birth.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“You were there.”
“I wasn’t there for all of it.”
I shook my head.
“Sophie was healthy.”
“That’s what we were told.”
“We?”
He looked away.
That one word bothered me.
“What do you mean, we?”
Before he could answer, my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered immediately.
“Where are you?”
“Parking garage.”
“Why did you leave?”
“I didn’t leave.”
His breathing sounded heavy.
“Rachel, I need you to listen carefully.”
I looked at Eric.
He was watching me.
“What happened?”
“When Eric accused me, I thought he was just panicking.”
“Okay.”
“But then he said something.”
“What?”
“He asked the social worker whether they were going to test Sophie’s DNA.”
My eyes moved back to Eric.
He looked away.
Daniel continued.
“Why would he ask that?”
“I don’t know.”
“Neither did I. So I asked him.”
“And?”
“He told me to mind my own business.”
“Daniel, Sophie has a mass near her ovary.”
Silence.
“What?”
“They don’t know what it is yet.”
“Oh my God.”
“They’re also doing a brain MRI because of the headaches.”
“I’m coming back upstairs.”
“Wait.”
I lowered my voice.
“Eric just told me Sophie had hormone testing when she was born.”
Daniel went completely silent.
“Daniel?”
“Rachel.”
Something in his voice changed.
“What?”
“I need to tell you something.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
“I’ve known about those tests for years.”
I couldn’t breathe for a second.
“How?”
“I found something when Sophie was five.”
“What did you find?”
“A medical envelope.”
“Where?”
“In the attic.”
I frowned.
“We didn’t live in this house when Sophie was born.”
“I know.”
That sent a chill through me.
“Then how did it get into our attic?”
Daniel didn’t answer.
“Daniel.”
“I think Eric put it there.”
I stared directly at my ex-husband.
He was standing only a few yards away.
Watching me.
“What was inside?”
“Lab reports. A hospital bracelet. And a letter.”
“What letter?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?”
“It was sealed.”
“Then how do you know it matters?”
“Because of what was written on the envelope.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What did it say?”
Daniel took a breath.
“FOR RACHEL MORGAN — IF SOPHIE EVER TESTS POSITIVE.”
Every hair on my arms stood up.
“What?”
“I thought it was some bizarre medical instruction. I put everything in my safe because I didn’t know what it meant.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because the next morning the envelope was gone.”
My eyes snapped toward Eric.
He wasn’t looking at me anymore.
He was walking away.
“Eric!”
He stopped.
Slowly.
“Where are you going?”
He turned.
His face had completely changed.
The anger was gone.
Now he just looked exhausted.
“Rachel, you need to focus on Sophie.”
“What happened when she was born?”
He didn’t answer.
I walked toward him.
“What happened?”
“Not here.”
“Yes. Here.”
People turned toward us.
I didn’t care.
“You accused my husband of assaulting our daughter in front of an entire hospital, and now I’m finding out you’ve been hiding medical information about her since the day she was born.”
Eric swallowed.
“I was trying to protect her.”
“From what?”
His eyes filled with tears.
That frightened me more than anything else had.
“From finding out what she is.”
I stared at him.
“What she is?”
He immediately shook his head.
“I said that wrong.”
“You’d better explain it correctly.”
Before he could answer, the doors behind us opened.
Dr. Ortiz hurried into the hallway.
She wasn’t walking anymore.
She was almost running.
“Mrs. Morgan.”
I turned.
Two nurses followed her.
“What happened?”
“We need to take Sophie upstairs immediately.”
“Why?”
“The additional bloodwork came back.”
My heart began pounding.
“Is it cancer?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Then what?”
Dr. Ortiz looked at Eric.
Then at me.
“There is something about Sophie’s blood type that doesn’t make sense.”
Eric went perfectly still.
I noticed.
So did Dr. Ortiz.
“What doesn’t make sense?”
She lowered her voice.
“According to the records you provided, you’re O positive.”
“Yes.”
“And Sophie’s biological father is listed as Eric Morgan.”
“Yes.”
“What is your blood type, Mr. Morgan?”
Eric didn’t answer.
“Eric?”
His lips parted.
“O positive.”
Dr. Ortiz stared at him.
Then she looked at me.
“That’s a problem.”
“Why?”
“Because Sophie is AB negative.”
I knew almost nothing about blood genetics.
But apparently Eric did.
His face turned white.
Dr. Ortiz continued.
“Two O-type biological parents cannot normally have an AB child.”
The hallway disappeared around me.
I looked at Eric.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“What is she saying?”
Nothing.
“Eric.”
Nothing.
“LOOK AT ME.”
He finally did.
And the guilt on his face told me the truth before he opened his mouth.
“You’re not Sophie’s biological father, are you?”
His eyes filled with tears.
“No.”
The word barely came out.
My knees weakened.
For ten years, every birth certificate, every school form, every doctor’s appointment had named Eric as Sophie’s biological father.
“You lied to me?”
“I didn’t.”
“Then who is her father?”
“I don’t know.”
“That makes absolutely no sense.”
“It will.”
“When?”
“When you know what happened the night she was born.”
My heart seemed to stop.
“What happened?”
Eric glanced toward the hospital room where our daughter was waiting.
Then he whispered five words that shattered everything I thought I knew about Sophie’s life.
“You didn’t give birth to Sophie.”
I stared at him.
For several seconds, I couldn’t even understand the sentence.
Then I laughed.
A tiny, broken sound.
“I was there.”
“I know.”
“I was pregnant.”
“I know.”
“I delivered a baby.”
“Yes.”
“Then what the hell are you saying?”
Eric’s face crumpled.
“You gave birth that night, Rachel.”
He paused.
“But Sophie wasn’t that baby.”
And before I could ask what happened to the child I had actually delivered, an alarm suddenly began screaming from Sophie’s room.
A nurse shouted her name.
Dr. Ortiz spun around and ran.
I ran after her.
The door flew open.
Sophie was lying motionless on the bed.
Her stuffed bunny had fallen onto the floor.
And beside her, the heart monitor was flashing a warning I couldn’t understand.
Then Sophie opened her eyes.
She looked directly at me.
But when she spoke, the first word out of her mouth wasn’t “Mom.”
It was a name I had never heard before.
“Rebecca.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
