The Family They Chose (7 page)

T
hree days later, Olivia awoke early and placed yet another call to Jamison. It was New Year’s Eve and she’d been trying to reach him for the past two days. All the calls went to voice mail, and he had yet to return a single call.

As she’d done at least a dozen times already, she left yet another message.

“Jamison, it’s
me.
I don’t understand why you’re not calling me back. I’m worried.”

What she didn’t say, despite the urge, was that it was six o’clock in the morning and she couldn’t reach him at home, the office or on his cell.

What was with this sudden change in him? Just a few days ago, everything seemed so good. Now here she was, wondering not only if her husband was letting business preempt their plans, but also if maybe he was going to stand her up altogether.

No. He wouldn’t do that. Would he?

In the months that they’d been separated, he’d never gone more than a day without calling her. And he’d certainly never let her calls go unanswered. She didn’t understand the sudden change in him, which sent her into another spiral of panic that maybe something was wrong.

She had no choice but to call McInerney to make sure Jamison was okay. She got his voice mail, too.

“Cameron, hello, this is Olivia. I’m trying to reach my husband. When you talk to him, will you please ask him to call me? Thank you.”

She hung up the phone in disbelief. All the worry and anxiety on top of this being the day that Dr. Demetrios would have her test results.

Nervous, she brewed herself a cup of cinnamon apple tea and took the delicate china cup upstairs to the window seat in the master bedroom.

The cold December air seeped in through the windowpanes. From her perch on the third floor, she could see across Commonwealth Avenue, over the tops of the stately trees that lined the street where she
lived, straight into Public Garden. The garden and adjacent Boston Common were an oasis in the heart of densely populated downtown Boston. A sanctuary laced with gorgeous statues, it was a haven even in the dead of winter.

Olivia pressed her hand to the glass and the cold bit her palm, as if it were taunting her. When she and Jamison had purchased the house, proximity to the lovely park was one of the things that completed their dream house. Since the day they’d moved in, Olivia had fantasized about arranging long playdates at the park for their children, and spending leisurely Sunday afternoons on a picnic blanket while Jamison tossed the football with their kids.

The ringing phone startled her from her reverie and she spilled hot tea on herself as she stumbled for the phone.

Finally,
she thought as she grabbed up the receiver.

“Jamison?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before a male voice—not Jamison’s—said, “Good morning, Mrs. Mallory. This is Cameron McInerney. I hope I’m not calling too early, but I see on my call log that you called a few moments ago.”

“Yes, I did. Is Jamison okay?”

Another pause. “Yes, ma’am, he’s fine. In fact, he
asked me to call you and let you know that his flight gets in at six this afternoon. He will be home shortly thereafter.”

Confused as to why Cameron was calling her rather than her husband taking the time to do so, Olivia paced as she listened.

“Cameron, I appreciate your call, but why isn’t Jamison calling me himself? I have been leaving messages for days.”

Again, Cameron paused a few beats too long. Finally, he said, “I don’t know, ma’am. I’m simply relaying the message he asked me to deliver.”

When they hung up, a chill seemed to permeate the air. Something wasn’t right. Despite how she tried to blame her uneasiness on nerves over her appointment with Dr. Demetrios, Olivia knew she was justified being upset with Jamison.

Couldn’t he even spare five minutes to call her himself?

At least he still planned to be home this evening, and she had a doctor’s appointment to get ready for. Right now she needed to use every ounce of energy to prepare herself for the news Chance Demetrios had waiting for her.

News that was going to change her life…one way or another.

Olivia paused in the threshold of Paul’s office and knocked lightly on the door frame. Her brother scowled up at her from the open magazine on his desk,
Northeastern Journal of Medicine.
When he saw her, he closed the magazine and changed his expression in a flash.

“Well, hello! Look who it is.” His voice rang with cheer, and if she hadn’t seen the annoyance on his face a moment ago, she might have believed nothing was wrong.

“I’m a little early for my follow-up with Chance, and I thought I’d stop by and say hi,” she said. “I don’t mean to disturb you.”

He drummed his fingers on his desk.

“Of course you’re not disturbing me. Come in. Please.” He gestured toward the chair in front of his desk.

“What are you reading?” she asked.

“Nothing.”

“It sure looked like something judging by the way you were scowling. Is everything okay?”

He breathed an exasperated sigh and raked a hand through his curly, dark hair. In that moment of letdown, she could see the dark circles under his brown eyes. He looked exhausted.

Olivia reached out across the desk and touched his arm. “What is it, Paul?”

He shook his head. “I might as well tell you now, because it’s likely to come out in the near future.”

Paul hesitated and held up the issue of the medical journal he’d been reading when she walked in.

“The institute is teetering on the brink of a public relations disaster. It’s a nightmare, Liv. A ticking time bomb that could explode in our faces if we don’t act fast and smart.”

She’d never seen her brother look so distressed, not in all the years since he’d picked up the Armstrong reins and started running the fertility institute that his father had dedicated his life to building.

“What’s going on?”

Paul cleared his throat. “This periodical ran a story saying that the institute used donor eggs and sperm to impregnate many wealthy couples.”

“Right, there’s nothing wrong with that. That’s what you do here.”

Paul frowned. “They alleged that some of the couples were unaware of the substitutions. That they thought they were impregnated with their own sperm and eggs.”

A cold wave of shock slapped her, and Olivia’s blood turned to ice. That sounded exactly like what Derek had suggested she do. Except he’d told her. He
hadn’t tried to do the substitution behind her back. Though he’d urged her to lie to her husband in exactly that same way.

Oh, my God.
“Paul, forgive me, but I have to ask. Is the allegation true?”

Her brother pulled a face. “Of course it’s not true. I can’t believe you’d think for even one second that it would be.”

She felt queasy watching her brother in such distress. His identity was so closely tied to the institute that if one questioned the business practices, they were essentially questioning his personal integrity.

Paul took pride in his scrupulously clean record. Derek, however, was altogether another animal. It was amazing how twin brothers could be such polar opposites.

Slow simmering anger roiled in the pit of her stomach as Derek’s suggestion rang her ears. There was no way she could tell Paul that Derek had essentially offered her the same arrangement.

No, if she told him, World War Three would erupt.

Even so, the longer she thought about it, the more she wondered if there was, perhaps, some truth to the allegation…brought on by Derek’s doings.

Somehow, she managed to ask, “What are you going to do about it?”

Paul sighed. “It’s tricky. Right now, only two
minor medical journals have run the story. None of the mainstream news outlets have picked up on it—yet. Our attorneys have threatened to slap the publishers with libel suits, because they presented no hard proof.”

But
she
had proof.
Right from Derek’s mouth.

“The problem is,” he continued, “if we file, it’s likely to let the cat out of the bag. Reporters are always trolling the court dockets. They could easily get wind of the case that way.”

Olivia scooted forward in her seat. “They’re going to print a retraction, aren’t they? They have to, since they have no proof.”

Uncertainty clouded his expression. “That’s another dangerous catch twenty-two. On one hand, it would be vindicating to have them admit in the pages of their own journals they were wrong. However, they’d probably bury the retractions in a places where they would go unnoticed. Besides, rehashing only gives new life to the story. Every day that the story goes unnoticed by the mass media means there’s less of a possibility that it’ll be discovered and broadcast to the world. So, a retraction could do more harm than good in the long run.”

Olivia’s mind swirled with doubt over whether she was doing the right thing by keeping the secret from Paul. But no, no, she had to talk to Derek
first. As she stood to go, she asked, “So, you’re not going to do anything except hope it’ll die a quick, silent death?”

Paul nodded.

“Unless the story explodes in the mass media. Heaven forbid, but if that happens we’ll slap libel suits on both journals faster than they can say shoddy reporting. In the meantime, we’re putting together a crisis PR plan that we hope we won’t have to use.”

“I’m with you on that,” she said as she edged toward the door. “I hope you don’t have to use it. Listen, I’m sorry this has happened. Please keep me posted, okay? But I have to go.”

Olivia glanced at her watch as she made her way through the institute’s empty halls. She had ten minutes until her appointment. Just enough time to have a chat with Derek.

So the institute had come under fire for egg swapping? And Paul was claiming it wasn’t true?

Paul, she knew, was as ethical and squeaky clean as they came. She couldn’t say that much for her other brother, though. If he smelled money or a way to feather the nest, the ethics line blurred.

Had he gone too far this time? From what Paul said it sounded as if this could set the institute up for a legal mess. It wouldn’t only tarnish the family name, it would destroy her father’s life’s work.

A thought struck her and she stopped in her tracks.

The scandal might even be big enough to affect Jamison’s career. Because in politics, every skeleton and scandal was fair game and fodder for mudslinging.

A scandal of this magnitude could seriously set back Jamison’s shot for the presidency. The realization nearly knocked the wind out of Olivia.

Strike one: Jamison’s mother had never been very fond of Olivia.

Strike two: Olivia hadn’t been able to give him children.

Even if he didn’t want them now, he would eventually. That’s what the Mallory family was all about. They were one big, boisterous, the-more-the-merrier kind of clan, and once Jamison worked through these fears, he’d realize the importance of a family.

If, heaven forbid, there was a strike three—an Armstrong family scandal—it could spell the end of their marriage.

She flung open Derek’s office door, walked in and closed it behind her.

He glanced up from his computer, peering at her over the top of his reading glasses, looking plenty annoyed.

“Well, come in, Olivia.” His voice was dark with indignity. “Make yourself right at home.”

She walked toward him.

“Have you been switching donor sperm and eggs, Derek?” Her voice held all the fury that had been bottling up over the months that she and Jamison had been apart.

Derek reared back in his chair, looking utterly confused. “Excuse me?”

She leaned in over his desk. “You heard me. Have you been switching donor sperm and eggs to keep wealthy clients at the institute?”

He blew out a breath between his pursed lips. “Are you talking about that ridiculous story that ran in that hack medical journal?”

He laughed, and something about the hollow sound convinced Olivia he was covering up something.

“I’m talking about the story that ran in those journals. A story with allegations alarmingly similar to the solution you offered me the last time I was here.”

He smirked. “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. There’s no similarities there whatsoever. Who told you about this, anyway?”

“Paul told me,” Olivia spat. “And he’s pretty upset over it. Have you been engaging in unethical practices? This could ruin the institute, Derek!”

“Olivia, I simply offered you a means of saving your troubled marriage. That’s all. There are no similarities between what that rag asserted and what I
offered you. If I’d done what the journal suggested, then I wouldn’t have told you. I would’ve just relabeled the viable eggs with your name. Good grief, Olivia. What kind of monster do you take me for?”

She hated it when he talked down to her. But she wouldn’t let him intimidate her.

“Would you please explain where the eggs you offered me came from? Whose eggs are they?”

He looked at her as if she had two heads. As if this was painfully simple and she should understand. “They’re donor eggs. Ovum we paid for so we could help women like you who can’t produce eggs of their own. Pardon me for trying to help you.”

His words were a low blow even if they were true. He must’ve seen it in her face because he softened his tone.

“The ones I offered you are from our ‘egg bank’ and are absolutely free and clear. They do not ‘belong’ to anyone but the future recipient.”

He regarded her for a moment with piercing brown eyes. The longer he stared at her, the smaller Olivia felt.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything. But I still don’t understand why you implied there should be so much secrecy around giving me the eggs? Changing the files so that everyone thought they were mine rather than donor eggs? I mean, Derek, come on, you have to admit the allegations in the exposé mirror your offer.”

Derek sighed and rolled his eyes.

“There is no similarity whatsoever. The secrecy was simply for your and Jamison’s benefit—for privacy. As I said, I was just offering you a way to save your marriage and a means of keeping up appearances. Now, if you don’t mind, I have to get back to work.”