“He didn’t trust my mother’s digital security.”

Samuel pulled on a pair of thin latex gloves from a box on the desk.

He carefully opened the binder, the old paper crackling in the quiet room.

I walked back over, leaving Ethan in the alcove.

My heart hammered against my ribs as Samuel flipped through the pages.

There were medical charts, consent forms, and signature pages.

“Look at this,” Samuel said, pointing to a page near the back.

It was the original surrogacy and embryo transfer agreement.

My name was printed at the top, but the signature at the bottom was a clumsy forgery.

“This is the document they submitted to the clinic,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

“Yes, but look closer at the phrasing,” Samuel murmured.

He ran his gloved finger down a paragraph marked in small, dense print.

“There is an unusual addendum here,” Samuel said.

He squinted, reading the legal jargon.

“Clause 14.2, ‘Discretionary Custody Transfer’…” he muttered.

He stopped speaking, his eyes widening slightly behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

He looked up at me, then at Margaret, who suddenly looked very tense.