Chapter 4

Two years can change a lot of things.

I rented out my Upper West Side apartment, using the income to subsidize our living expenses and Leo’s education. Leo and I moved into a modest two-bedroom in Forest Hills, Queens.

During the day, I dropped him off at private preschool, then took the train to the fertility center at a private hospital in Manhattan. At night, I cooked, played with him, and put him to bed.

Money was tight, but life was peaceful.

About three months after our divorce, Ethan and Vanessa got married. It was the wedding of the year. The media hailed them as "true love." In the photos, Vanessa wore a custom gown worth around a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Ethan had his arm around her waist, looking gentle.

It was a gentleness I hadn't seen in years.

After the wedding, Vanessa was desperate to get pregnant. She needed an heir to secure her place in the family trust and cement her status in New York high society. Her Instagram was a daily feed of prenatal vitamins and fertility teas.

"Can't wait for our little one."

The comments were flooded with blessings. I saw it once, smiled to myself, and kept scrolling.

A year passed. No pregnancy.

The Sterling family started getting anxious. Elaine dropped passive-aggressive hints. Ethan quit smoking and cut back on drinking.

Another year passed. Still nothing.

Vanessa became a frequent visitor at the top private fertility clinics in New York. Her test results were perfect. There was absolutely nothing wrong with her. But she still couldn't conceive.

Ethan grew restless. What made it worse were the whispers. The women he kept on the side—none of them had ever gotten pregnant either.

The rumors started spreading. At first, Ethan dismissed them. When Leo was born, he had personally reviewed the paternity test. The report explicitly confirmed he was the father. How could he be the problem?

But at family gatherings, the branch shareholders started looking at him differently.

Late one night, Richard tapped his fingers against his mahogany desk, his voice heavy. "Ethan, this family cannot stake its future on a child that doesn't exist. Look into these rumors."

Ethan sat alone in his study until dawn.

I was frying eggs for Leo when the clinic called.

"Dr. Hart, we have a VIP requesting a comprehensive fertility assessment. Ethan Sterling. Given the history, we need to know if you're recusing yourself."

I set the spatula down. "I'm recusing myself from his clinical care. Assign an independent andrology specialist."

When I arrived at the hospital, Ethan was already sitting in the consultation room. His back was stiff, as if his posture was the only thing holding his pride together.

"I want a full, comprehensive male fertility assessment," he said.

I didn't sit down at the computer. "I'm not your doctor, Ethan."

He looked up at me.

"Aside from the obvious conflict of interest, I was involved in your original workup years ago. The center is providing an independent specialist for the andrology testing."

He went quiet for a moment, his jaw tight. "I want you in the room."

"Unless you sign a written authorization, I can't even look at your file," I told him. "And even then, I won't diagnose you. I'll only sit in as an observer while the specialist explains the findings. If that's what you want."

Ethan stared at me. Finally, he picked up the authorization form the clinic provided. "Set it up."

The independent specialist took over immediately. Ethan signed the informed consent forms with his lawyer present. The testing took all day.

Three days later, the results were in.

Ethan was waiting in the consultation room. His lawyer sat a few feet away. I stood by the door, keeping my distance from his medical file.

The independent doctor slid the sealed envelope across the desk. "Mr. Sterling, I will walk you through the results."

Ethan’s fingers curled into tight fists on his knees.

"Speak."