by Lilly LaRue
“I’ll fight you every step of the way.”
“I only want some furniture and half the checking and savings account balances.” Kayla strove for a level tone. One of the babies pressed on her bladder, making it difficult for her to look composed. “I queried the balances the day I walked out, and the checking account was twelve thousand then. The savings had fifty thousand. I don’t want anything you earned before our marriage.”
“Fine. I’ll have a cashier’s check for thirty-one thousand delivered to your house.” Nolan was suddenly calmer. “And I’ll throw in an extra five thousand for your part of the furniture.”
“That will be fine.” She knew how long Nolan had searched for the perfect furniture and interior design. She had never liked the cold gray leather and chrome furniture, but it had already been in place when they married three years ago. “Now, will you let go of me?”
“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he said, before turning and striding away. Kayla could hear his attorney berating him. She walked to the water fountain and leaned down to take a sip, hoping to cool her overheated body.
Once she was steadier, Kayla walked out of the courthouse to her Mercedes SE convertible. She planned to trade it in for a more practical family car and some extra money. Her part-time job as a kindergarten teacher wouldn’t be enough to support her and the twins, but she hated the idea of working full-time while someone else raised her children. She had no intention of taking child support from Nolan, so her only option was to budget her settlement until the twins started first grade, and she could work full-time. Six years was a long time to stretch thirty-six thousand dollars.
The present day…
“Prince Aubosson called this morning, Hsia,” Dr. Okira’s assistant, Dr. Parks, said as the doctor entered the lab. “He wanted to make sure all of his deposits are destroyed.”
“I wondered when we would hear from him.” Dr. Okira slipped on his lab coat. “So sad about his wife. She was a lovely woman.”
“I never met her.”
“They had stopped coming for treatments three years ago. She got sick suddenly, but always planned to try again when she recovered.”
“She never recovered?”
“No. She died last year from complications of her diabetes.” He shook his head. “Well, best to destroy the specimens right away so we don’t forget. Will you retrieve Prince Aubosson’s file number from the computer, Sheila?”
Dr. Parks went to the lab computer, peeling off her rubber gloves before typing. “08-61256.”
Dr. Okira went into the vault to retrieve Prince Aubosson’s frozen vial, shivering at the temperature. He found it with little searching, since he had been the one to design the storage system, and brought it out to the lab. As a habit, he compared the name to the number before tossing it in the red Biohazard container.
Dr. Okira’s hand stilled on the lid of the compartment. “Can you verify that number? This sample belongs to Owens, Sean.”
Dr. Parks typed Aubosson once more. “08-61256—Aubosson, Arkin.”
“Look up Owens, Sean.” He held his breath and tried to ignore the nausea squirming in his stomach as her fingers moved across the keyboard.
“08-61255,” Sheila said, looking concerned.
Dr. Okira set down the vial and returned to the vault. When he emerged, clutching another vial, the nausea surged up the back of his throat, and cold sweat dotted his brow. “This sample belongs to Prince Aubosson.” He sank onto an office chair. “Please see who was designated to receive Owens’s sperm.” He hoped no one had chosen Mr. Owens, but his greatest fear would be Mr. Owens was a popular choice.
“Just one insemination,” Dr. Parks said after typing for a moment. “Mikayla Cole, five years ago. Conception was successful.”
“No, it can’t be.” He sank into a chair as his trembling knees gave out. His career was over. All the babies he had helped desperate couples conceive couldn’t begin to balance the heinousness of this mistake. And having the error affect someone so prominent spelled the death knell of the clinic. He couldn’t continue operating in good conscience, even if the prince didn’t take legal action against him.
Some doctors might sweep the mistake under the rug or blame an incompetent technician. While Hsia couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a subordinate who blundered, he still accepted full blame for the situation. Under those conditions, he couldn’t pursue his life’s work any longer. His code of ethics wouldn’t allow him to. He didn’t even entertain the notion of not notifying the prince.
♥♥♥
Arkin paced, once again in Dr. Okira’s office. He had received a frantic call a week ago, explaining there had been a mix-up with labeling. He’d been asked to provide another sample, either blood or saliva, for DNA comparison. He had done so, opting for the blood test, and now waited to hear a full explanation from Dr. Okira.
He noticed the office remained unchanged. The same cream armchairs, probably reupholstered at least once, were before the desk. The same kind of cream carpet and wallpaper was in place. Even the desk was still scattered with files, as if five years hadn’t passed. It was all remarkably the same, and he wished he could say the same for himself.
He knew his face showed the ravages of the past few years. His pale blond hair had gone gray at the temples, and new wrinkles lined his face. He looked several years past his true age of thirty-four, and he felt decades older.
His strange reverie broke off as Dr. Okira came in, clutching a file.
“I’m so sorry, sire.”
“Why? What’s this all about, Dr. Okira?”
“There’s been a mix-up,” Dr. Okira said. “Your file was given the wrong number. Your sample was identified as someone else’s.”
“And…?”
Dr. Okira swallowed, looking close to collapsing. “That person was chosen for insemination.”
“What?” Arkin reeled at the stuttered words of the doctor. Surely, he hadn’t heard right. “What the hell does that mean?”
The doctor bowed his head. “Your semen was mistakenly used to inseminate a woman. She believed she had chosen another man, who bore a resemblance to her husband.”
“Was the insemination successful?” Arkin swayed at the thought.
“Yes, sir.”
“Who is she?”
“I can’t divulge that information.”
“If you want to remain in business, you had better start talking, Okira.” He couldn’t quite believe somewhere in the world there was a child he had sired, without his permission. He had to know who had his child.
“Oh, it isn’t a matter of staying in practice, sire.” The doctor shook his head. “I can’t go on running the clinic after this. It’s just…what will become of Mrs. Cole and her husband?”
“That’s my business, Okira,” Arkin snapped. “Who is this Cole woman?”
Apparently, the Cole file had been the one in his hand when he entered the room, and he slid it across the desk to the prince. “That will give you all the information you need.”
Arkin snatched the file from the desk. “My attorneys will be in touch,” he promised before storming from the doctor’s office. His anger must have been visible, because Dr. Okira’s mousy nurse cringed out of his way as he strode by her. Several other people hastened out of his path as he left the medical building with the frenetic energy of a dervish.
In the limousine, Arkin reviewed the scant information available. Mikayla Cole had his child, and he was determined to get it back. In his position, Arkin knew his reasons made no sense, but he wouldn’t abandon his responsibility.
It occurred to him the situation had a singular benefit. He could now provide an heir without being forced to remarry. The thought of taking another wife had left him depressed and bitter, but because of Okira’s mistake, he was spared having to betray Gretel’s memory, and for so shallow a reason as to provide Sigotta with an heir to the throne.
Yes, there was some benefit to this situation. Once he dealt
with the Coles and retrieved his child, he could return to Sigotta secure in the knowledge that his legacy continued, without the bother of a loveless marriage.
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