{"id":99,"date":"2026-08-02T01:38:30","date_gmt":"2026-08-02T01:38:30","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/?p=99"},"modified":"2026-08-02T01:38:30","modified_gmt":"2026-08-02T01:38:30","slug":"part-2-one-year-after-my-divorce-i-came-face-to-face-with-my-ex-husband-in-the-pediatric-wing-of-the-hospital-where-i-worked-he-proudly-showed-off-the-baby-boy-he-had-with-my-former-best-friend-0","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/?p=99","title":{"rendered":"PART 2: “One year after my divorce, I came face-to-face with my ex-husband in the pediatric wing of the hospital where I worked. He proudly showed off the baby boy he had with my former best friend-002"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"May<\/p>\n

The shattered bottle seemed louder than it should have been.<\/span><\/p>\n

Plastic pieces skittered across the polished hospital floor, spinning through a small puddle of milk until one fragment bumped gently against the toe of Connor\u2019s expensive shoe. The baby in the stroller startled at the sound, his face crumpling before a soft cry escaped him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

That cry snapped me out of the silence first.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because no matter what Connor had done, no matter what Melinda had hidden, the little boy in the stroller had done nothing.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stepped forward before either of them moved.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCareful,\u201d I said, holding one hand out to stop Connor from stepping back into the broken pieces. Then I turned toward the nurses\u2019 station. \u201cTanya, could we get housekeeping to the east corridor? Broken bottle near pediatrics.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

The nurse nodded immediately, already reaching for the phone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stared at me as if I had ruined a scene he had rehearsed in his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

He had expected tears. He had expected embarrassment. Maybe he had expected me to crumble in front of the families waiting outside exam rooms, so he could walk away with proof that leaving me had made him victorious.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Instead, I had become the doctor in the hallway.<\/span><\/p>\n

Calm hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

Clear voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

Eyes on the child first.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda sank down beside the stroller, her fingers trembling as she tried to soothe the baby without touching the scattered plastic.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Oliver,\u201d she whispered. \u201cIt\u2019s okay, sweetheart. Mommy\u2019s here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The little boy\u2019s cries softened when she placed one hand on his chest. He blinked up at her with damp blue eyes, trusting her completely.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Oliver.<\/span><\/p>\n

So that was his name.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had not known. I had made a point of not knowing. After the divorce, mutual acquaintances occasionally tried to deliver fragments of Connor\u2019s new life like gossip wrapped in pity. Melinda gave birth. Connor bought a house near the lake. They posted family photos. He looked so happy. Did I want to see?<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

I never did.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had protected my peace with the same discipline I brought into emergency rooms.<\/span><\/p>\n

But now the child was in front of me, small and frightened, reaching for the stuffed giraffe that had fallen sideways in his stroller.<\/span><\/p>\n

I picked it up carefully, checked it for broken plastic, then handed it to Melinda.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

She took it without meeting my eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you,\u201d she whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

The word was so small I almost did not hear it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor recovered first.<\/span><\/p>\n

He always did. His charm and cruelty shared the same quick reflex.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is he doing here?\u201d he demanded, glaring at Kenneth Boyd.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth stood a few feet from the elevator with the sealed folder tucked beneath one arm. He was in his late fifties, tall and lean, with silver at his temples and the kind of quiet steadiness that came from decades of watching people underestimate paperwork until it stood up in court.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

He looked at Connor with professional politeness.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Fleming.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s jaw tightened. \u201cThis is a hospital. You can\u2019t just appear here waving legal documents.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not waving them,\u201d Kenneth said mildly. \u201cI\u2019m carrying them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

A father seated nearby covered a cough that sounded suspiciously like a laugh.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor shot him a look, then turned back to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cWhat is going on, Kirsten?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I glanced toward the families in the hallway. A little girl with a cast on her arm watched us with wide eyes. A mother pulled her toddler closer. Nurses pretended to work while missing nothing.<\/span><\/p>\n

This was exactly what Connor wanted: a public stage.<\/span><\/p>\n

I would not give him one.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cKenneth,\u201d I said, \u201cmy office.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stepped into my path. \u201cNo. You don\u2019t get to walk away after that little performance.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at him calmly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe performance was yours.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Color rose in his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda looked up sharply. \u201cConnor, please.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He ignored her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou think because you\u2019re wearing a white coat, everyone here will take your side?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cMy side?\u201d I repeated. \u201cThis is not a contest.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt always was with you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

There it was. The old revision. The marriage rewritten into a story where my ambition was aggression, my pain was manipulation, and my boundaries were attacks.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had spent years trying to argue with that version of myself.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Now I simply stepped around him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHousekeeping is coming,\u201d I told Tanya. \u201cPlease make sure no one slips.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I turned to Melinda.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOliver should be moved away from the broken pieces.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nodded quickly and rolled the stroller back with shaky hands.<\/span><\/p>\n

I did not ask why she was trembling. Not yet.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Kenneth walked beside me toward my office, but before we reached the staff corridor, Connor followed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever he has, it can wait,\u201d Connor said. \u201cWe\u2019re here for our son\u2019s appointment.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I stopped.<\/span><\/p>\n

That part mattered.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOliver is a patient here?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda\u2019s face tightened.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor answered for her. \u201cRoutine pediatric follow-up. Not that it\u2019s any of your business.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cIf he is a patient in this wing, then this hallway will remain calm.\u201d I looked directly at Connor. \u201cNot for me. For him.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He glanced back at the stroller.<\/span><\/p>\n

For one second, embarrassment crossed his face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then pride buried it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cFine,\u201d he said. \u201cLet\u2019s hear what your lawyer has to say.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Kenneth said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor blinked. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThis conversation involves Dr. Sinclair and, potentially, Ms. Harper.\u201d Kenneth\u2019s gaze moved to Melinda. \u201cNot you. Not yet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda went perfectly still.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s head turned slowly toward her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMelinda?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She clutched the stroller handle.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does he mean?\u201d Connor asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

But she did.<\/span><\/p>\n

Everyone in that hallway saw that she did.<\/span><\/p>\n

I should have felt satisfaction.<\/span><\/p>\n

Instead, I felt a deep, tired sadness.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because secrets never stay buried quietly. They rise through floorboards and hospital corridors. They arrive with legal folders and trembling hands. They shatter baby bottles, startle children, and force the innocent to cry while adults face what they refused to say.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

Kenneth lowered his voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKirsten, this should happen privately.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMelinda,\u201d I said gently, \u201cwould you like to come with us?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s eyes flashed. \u201cShe\u2019s not going anywhere with you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda looked at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Something passed through her face then\u2014fear first, then exhaustion, then a thin line of courage so fragile I almost missed it.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\u201cYes,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stared.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI said yes.\u201d Her voice trembled, but she kept going. \u201cI need to hear what this is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMelinda, don\u2019t be ridiculous.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She flinched at the tone.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had heard that tone in my own kitchen. My own car. My own bedroom.<\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t be ridiculous.<\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t be dramatic.<\/span><\/p>\n

Don\u2019t embarrass me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Words that looked small until they became walls.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stepped closer to her, careful not to crowd. \u201cThere\u2019s a family waiting room down this hall. It\u2019s private. Oliver can come with you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stepped forward again. \u201cThat is my son.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth looked at him. \u201cNo one is disputing your right to remain near your child. But I strongly advise you not to interfere with Ms. Harper\u2019s decision to speak privately.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor gave a sharp laugh. \u201cAdvise me? You\u2019re her attorney.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am Dr. Sinclair\u2019s attorney,\u201d Kenneth said. \u201cI have not yet determined whether Ms. Harper requires one.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The sentence quieted the hallway more effectively than shouting would have.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda\u2019s face went white again.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at Kenneth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

His expression softened toward me, but only slightly. \u201cThat is what we need to discuss.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

We moved into the family waiting room.<\/span><\/p>\n

It had soft blue walls, a small table with children\u2019s books, and a window overlooking the hospital garden where rain-dark leaves trembled in the wind. I had sat with parents in this room when diagnoses changed lives. I had watched fear turn fathers silent and mothers fierce. I had learned to keep tissues in the cabinet beneath the sink because hospitals never provided enough.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now I was not the doctor delivering news.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was part of the news.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda parked Oliver\u2019s stroller near the sofa. Connor insisted on standing by the door until Kenneth gave him a look.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf you remain,\u201d Kenneth said, \u201cyou listen. You do not interrupt.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor sneered. \u201cYou don\u2019t give orders to me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Kenneth replied. \u201cBut judges do. And you may want to consider how your behavior sounds when described later under oath.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s mouth shut.<\/span><\/p>\n

He sat.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda took the chair nearest Oliver. She kept one hand on the stroller canopy as if anchoring herself.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remained standing for a moment, then sat across from her.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth placed the sealed folder on the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKirsten,\u201d he said, \u201cI came because the lab report arrived this morning.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My pulse changed.<\/span><\/p>\n

One year earlier, after the divorce, Kenneth had encouraged me to review financial and medical records connected to my fertility treatments. At first, I refused. I wanted freedom, not another tunnel back into grief. I had survived seven years of injections, tests, losses, and monthly hope collapsing into shame. When the divorce finalized, I told myself never again.<\/span><\/p>\n

But Kenneth was careful.<\/span><\/p>\n

He did not push.<\/span><\/p>\n

He simply said, \u201cConnor controlled too many files during the marriage. Make sure your past belongs to you before you leave it behind.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

So I requested everything.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every clinic report.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every embryo storage document.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every billing record.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every signed consent.<\/span><\/p>\n

And that was when the inconsistencies began.<\/span><\/p>\n

One missing vial.<\/span><\/p>\n

One altered consent date.<\/span><\/p>\n

One storage transfer no one remembered authorizing.<\/span><\/p>\n

For months, Kenneth and I had followed records quietly through clinics, courier logs, invoices, and signatures. I had not told Connor. I had not told Melinda. I had not told anyone at the hospital.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because some truths are too delicate to carry into daylight until they can stand on their own.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at the folder.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat lab report?\u201d Connor demanded.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth ignored him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKirsten,\u201d he said gently, \u201cthe independent genetic analysis confirms that one of the embryos created during your final fertility cycle was transferred without your knowledge to a secondary storage account.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda closed her eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

The room shifted.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor sat forward. \u201cWhat nonsense is this?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth removed a document and placed it on the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA chain-of-custody review of reproductive material from Northbridge Fertility Center.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I stared at the words.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had known this was possible. Suspected it. Feared it. But hearing it spoken aloud still made the room feel unsteady.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOne embryo,\u201d Kenneth continued, \u201cwas listed as nonviable in the patient portal provided to Kirsten. However, the original embryology report marked it viable and suitable for transfer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My breath left me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nonviable.<\/span><\/p>\n

That word had destroyed me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I remembered sitting on the bathroom floor after reading the clinic message, my body sore from treatments, Connor standing in the doorway with his phone in his hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe this is the universe telling us to stop, he had said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had cried so hard I could not breathe.<\/span><\/p>\n

And somewhere, a viable embryo had been moved.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho authorized the transfer?\u201d I asked, though I already knew whose signature had haunted the documents.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth looked at Connor.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Fleming did.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor rose halfway from his chair. \u201cThat is absurd.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth slid a copy of the consent form across the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor froze.<\/span><\/p>\n

His signature sat at the bottom.<\/span><\/p>\n

Beside mine.<\/span><\/p>\n

Except I had never signed that paper.<\/span><\/p>\n

The room went very quiet.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda covered her mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at Connor.<\/span><\/p>\n

For years, I thought his betrayal began with Melinda.<\/span><\/p>\n

It had begun earlier.<\/span><\/p>\n

In a clinic.<\/span><\/p>\n

In a place where hope was supposed to be protected.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou forged my consent?\u201d I whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s face hardened.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was your husband.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat is not consent.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes flashed. \u201cYou wanted a child. I wanted a child. We were drowning in treatments and bills and disappointment. You were falling apart.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was grieving.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou were obsessed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The old word struck, but it did not enter me the way it once would have.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had heard too many frightened parents in hospital rooms to mistake grief for weakness anymore.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth spoke calmly. \u201cMr. Fleming, I strongly advise you to stop.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor turned on him. \u201cYou don\u2019t understand what it was like living with her. Every month, another failure. Another appointment. Another night of crying. I did what had to be done.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I stared at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat had to be done?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He glanced at Melinda.<\/span><\/p>\n

She was crying now, silent tears slipping down her face.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMelinda wanted a baby,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

The room seemed to fall away.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda shook her head. \u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s expression sharpened. \u201cDon\u2019t start lying now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She turned to him, trembling. \u201cYou told me the embryo was yours and from a donor. You said Kirsten had signed away unused embryos after the divorce discussions started.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I gripped the edge of my chair.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere were no divorce discussions then.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda looked at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know that now.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor scoffed. \u201cConvenient.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She flinched, then looked down at Oliver.<\/span><\/p>\n

The baby had fallen asleep, one small fist resting near his cheek, the stuffed giraffe tucked beside him.<\/span><\/p>\n

His innocence filled the room with unbearable tenderness.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth opened the next document.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe genetic report also confirms something else.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

He held my gaze for a long second, the way doctors do before changing a family\u2019s life.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOliver is genetically related to you, Kirsten.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The words entered softly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not like thunder.<\/span><\/p>\n

Like the first note of a song I had once given up hearing.<\/span><\/p>\n

My eyes moved to the stroller.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oliver slept peacefully.<\/span><\/p>\n

His blond lashes fluttered. His small mouth opened in a tiny sigh.<\/span><\/p>\n

Related to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

My heart seemed to stop, then restart painfully.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s voice cut through the moment. \u201cObviously. The embryo was created from our material.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth looked at him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor frowned.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you mean no?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth turned another page.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOliver is not genetically Connor Fleming\u2019s child.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The room went still.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s face emptied.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda\u2019s head lifted slowly.<\/span><\/p>\n

I could hear the rain against the window. A cart rolling somewhere in the hallway. A child laughing in another room, beautifully unaware.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d Connor said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth\u2019s voice remained even. \u201cThe genetic markers exclude Mr. Fleming as Oliver\u2019s biological father.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s impossible.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt is not.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stared at Melinda.<\/span><\/p>\n

She looked just as stunned as he did.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKirsten,\u201d she whispered, \u201cI didn\u2019t\u2026\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her voice broke.<\/span><\/p>\n

I could not speak.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oliver was genetically related to me, but not Connor.<\/span><\/p>\n

My mind moved through years of fertility records. Donor discussions. Failed attempts. Embryo creation. The final cycle. The missing vial.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then I remembered something the clinic director said in an email three months earlier.<\/span><\/p>\n

There were irregularities involving donor genetic material during the period in question.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had assumed it was technical language.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now it felt like a door opening.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho is the father?\u201d Connor demanded.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth did not answer immediately.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKenneth,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

His eyes shifted to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe do not have a confirmed paternal match yet.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBut you know something.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stepped toward the table. \u201cTell me who.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth looked at him coldly. \u201cYou do not have standing to demand that information.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor laughed in disbelief.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI raised him for a year.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda\u2019s face twisted with pain.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou held him when cameras were around,\u201d she said quietly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor turned on her. \u201cExcuse me?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She seemed to shrink for a moment.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then she looked at Oliver.<\/span><\/p>\n

And grew still.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou heard me,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was not loud.<\/span><\/p>\n

It did not need to be.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor stared at her as if she had betrayed him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe she had, but not in the way he thought.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda wiped her face and looked at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKirsten, I knew about the affair. I knew that was unforgivable. But I did not know he took anything from you. I swear on my son\u2019s life.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d Connor snapped.<\/span><\/p>\n

She stood, trembling but upright. \u201cNo. I\u2019ve been quiet long enough.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He moved one step closer. \u201cMelinda.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth stood too. \u201cMr. Fleming.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The warning stopped him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda took a breath.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe told me you had abandoned the embryos. He said you couldn\u2019t bear to destroy them but didn\u2019t want to use them. He said you signed consent for anonymous transfer.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat makes no sense,\u201d I said, my voice barely audible. \u201cEmbryos cannot simply be given away like furniture.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know that now.\u201d Her face crumpled. \u201cAt the time, I wanted to believe him. I wanted a baby so badly. I had lost two pregnancies. I was ashamed. And Connor kept saying you had everything\u2014career, respect, stability\u2014and that you didn\u2019t even want motherhood anymore.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My throat tightened.<\/span><\/p>\n

That was how he worked.<\/span><\/p>\n

He gave people a version of me that made his cruelty seem like balance.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe lied,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d Melinda\u2019s voice broke. \u201cI know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor laughed harshly. \u201cThis is touching, but none of it changes anything. Oliver is my son legally.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth turned to him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThat may be reviewed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s face darkened.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou try to take my child, and I will bury all of you in court.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The baby stirred at the harshness in his voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stood.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every eye turned toward me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLower your voice,\u201d I said.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor blinked.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was not the command itself that surprised him.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was the person giving it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Once, I would have begged him not to cause a scene. I would have looked around anxiously, humiliated by attention, desperate to make myself small enough that his anger would pass over me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now I stood in a hospital family room with my name on a white coat and a sleeping child between us.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was not small.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOliver is asleep,\u201d I continued. \u201cHe is in a pediatric wing. There are sick children, exhausted parents, and staff trying to work. Whatever legal storm you created, you will not bring it down on him in this room.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s mouth opened.<\/span><\/p>\n

No words came.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth\u2019s expression softened, just briefly.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda looked at me as if she had never seen me clearly before.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe she hadn\u2019t.<\/span><\/p>\n

Maybe none of them had.<\/span><\/p>\n

A knock sounded at the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

Tanya leaned in. \u201cDr. Sinclair, sorry to interrupt. Your department meeting was moved, and Dr. Patel said to take all the time you need.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her eyes moved once around the room, protective and curious, then she left.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor looked at my badge again.<\/span><\/p>\n

Dr. Kirsten Sinclair.<\/span><\/p>\n

He had mocked my work as ambition that ruined our marriage. Yet that work had built the ground beneath my feet when everything personal cracked open.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth gathered the documents.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Fleming, I will be filing today for preservation of all records from Northbridge Fertility, related storage facilities, and the clinic where Ms. Harper underwent implantation. You should retain independent counsel.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s face went pale beneath the anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI already have counsel.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThen call them.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda sat back down slowly, one hand on the stroller.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat happens to Oliver?\u201d she whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

That was the only question that mattered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not Connor\u2019s pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not my grief.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not Melinda\u2019s guilt.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oliver.<\/span><\/p>\n

A child born from lies but not made of them.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth\u2019s voice gentled. \u201cNothing sudden. No one is taking him from the arms that feed him tonight. The court will prioritize his stability. But the truth of how he came to be must be addressed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda closed her eyes in relief and fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at Oliver again.<\/span><\/p>\n

Genetically related to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not Connor\u2019s.<\/span><\/p>\n

A child I had never carried but whose existence was tied to the most painful years of my life.<\/span><\/p>\n

I did not know what I felt.<\/span><\/p>\n

Wonder.<\/span><\/p>\n

Grief.<\/span><\/p>\n

Anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

A tenderness I had no right to claim and no way to ignore.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor picked up his diaper bag abruptly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re leaving.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda looked up. \u201cOliver has an appointment.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019re leaving.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The word stunned him.<\/span><\/p>\n

It stunned me too.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda stood slowly.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe are staying for his appointment.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s eyes narrowed. \u201cDon\u2019t start.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am not starting anything,\u201d she said, voice shaking. \u201cI am finishing the part where you decide everything while I pretend it is love.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The words entered the room and struck places I did not expect.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor looked at her with open contempt. \u201cYou think she\u2019ll protect you? After what you did?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda glanced at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I said nothing.<\/span><\/p>\n

I could not promise protection.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not yet.<\/span><\/p>\n

But I could offer truth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe doesn\u2019t need me to protect her from a pediatric appointment,\u201d I said. \u201cShe needs you to stop escalating in front of a child.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s face flushed.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a moment, I thought he might argue.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then his phone rang.<\/span><\/p>\n

He glanced at the screen.<\/span><\/p>\n

His expression changed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not anger.<\/span><\/p>\n

Fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth noticed.<\/span><\/p>\n

So did I.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor silenced the call.<\/span><\/p>\n

A second later, my own phone vibrated.<\/span><\/p>\n

Unknown number.<\/span><\/p>\n

I took it from my coat pocket.<\/span><\/p>\n

A message appeared.<\/span><\/p>\n

Do not let Connor leave with the boy. He is not the only child taken from Northbridge.<\/span><\/p>\n

My blood went cold.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth read it over my shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

His face hardened.<\/span><\/p>\n

Another message arrived.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ask Dr. Sinclair why her final cycle produced three viable embryos, not one.<\/span><\/p>\n

The room seemed to tilt.<\/span><\/p>\n

Three.<\/span><\/p>\n

My hand tightened around the phone.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor had gone very still.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda whispered, \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at Kenneth.<\/span><\/p>\n

He was already reaching for his phone.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cKirsten,\u201d he said carefully, \u201cwhen Northbridge released your patient summary, how many embryos did they report from that cycle?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cOne nonviable,\u201d I whispered. \u201cThat was what I was told.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd the independent embryology archive showed one viable missing embryo,\u201d he said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

But the message said three.<\/span><\/p>\n

Three viable embryos.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oliver slept peacefully while the adults around him silently counted lives hidden in paperwork.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor backed toward the door.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth\u2019s voice sharpened. \u201cMr. Fleming, do not leave.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor laughed, but it came out strained. \u201cYou cannot detain me.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d Kenneth said. \u201cBut if you leave after receiving notice of preservation concerns involving a minor child and medical records, it will be noted.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s hand tightened on the diaper bag strap.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then the waiting room door opened from the hallway.<\/span><\/p>\n

A woman stepped inside.<\/span><\/p>\n

She was older, perhaps in her sixties, with neatly pinned gray hair and a hospital visitor badge clipped to her coat. Her face was pale, her eyes wet, and both hands clutched a manila envelope against her chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

She looked straight at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDr. Sinclair?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMy name is Ruth Ellison,\u201d she said. \u201cI was a senior nurse at Northbridge Fertility.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth moved subtly closer to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor looked as if he might be sick.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth\u2019s gaze flicked to him, then to Melinda and the stroller.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d she whispered. \u201cI should have come sooner.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My pulse roared in my ears.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cCome sooner for what?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She swallowed.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe embryos. The records. All of it.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor snapped, \u201cThis woman is confused.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth flinched, but did not retreat.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d she said softly. \u201cNot anymore.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth gestured to a chair. \u201cMs. Ellison, you should speak carefully.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d She held out the envelope. \u201cI brought copies. Not originals. I\u2019m not foolish enough to bring originals.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Her eyes returned to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYour final cycle produced three viable embryos, Dr. Sinclair. One was transferred to Ms. Harper and became Oliver. One was moved to a private storage account. The third\u2026\u201d Her voice broke. \u201cThe third was implanted under another patient\u2019s file.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My knees weakened.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth took my arm gently.<\/span><\/p>\n

Another child.<\/span><\/p>\n

Somewhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

A child connected to me.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda covered her mouth, sobbing silently.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor looked trapped now. Truly trapped.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho?\u201d I asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth\u2019s eyes filled with tears.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know the patient\u2019s real name. Northbridge used coded records for certain private transfers. But I know the child was born nine months ago.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The world narrowed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nine months ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oliver was one.<\/span><\/p>\n

Another child had been born.<\/span><\/p>\n

A child whose beginning had been stolen from me, hidden inside a system I had trusted with my deepest grief.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth placed the envelope on the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere is one more thing,\u201d she said.<\/span><\/p>\n

I could barely breathe. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe missing embryo in storage was accessed last week.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth\u2019s head snapped up. \u201cBy whom?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth looked at Connor.<\/span><\/p>\n

Then at me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe authorization came from an account linked to Fleming Family Holdings.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s voice turned cold. \u201cThat is impossible.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth shook her head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIt happened.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My phone vibrated again.<\/span><\/p>\n

This time, the message contained a photograph.<\/span><\/p>\n

A clinic storage canister.<\/span><\/p>\n

On the label was my name.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kirsten Sinclair.<\/span><\/p>\n

Beside it was a handwritten note.<\/span><\/p>\n

One left.<\/span><\/p>\n

And beneath that:<\/span><\/p>\n

Tell Connor the twins are ready when he is.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda made a small sound.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stared at the words.<\/span><\/p>\n

Twins.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ready.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor\u2019s fear had become unmistakable now.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth immediately began speaking into his phone, requesting emergency filings, preservation orders, injunctions, things I could barely process through the pounding in my chest.<\/span><\/p>\n

But I could process one thing clearly.<\/span><\/p>\n

This was no longer only about Connor\u2019s cruelty in a hallway.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was not only about Melinda\u2019s betrayal.<\/span><\/p>\n

It was about children.<\/span><\/p>\n

Oliver.<\/span><\/p>\n

The hidden child born nine months ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

The remaining embryo someone had accessed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Lives treated like leverage by people who mistook creation for ownership.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at Connor.<\/span><\/p>\n

For the first time, he did not look smug.<\/span><\/p>\n

He looked afraid of something bigger than me.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWho sent that?\u201d I asked him.<\/span><\/p>\n

He shook his head.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

For once, I believed he was not entirely lying.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth Ellison lowered herself into a chair, trembling.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI kept quiet because I was afraid of losing my license,\u201d she said. \u201cThen I saw the appointment listing this morning. Oliver Harper. Pediatric wing. Dr. Kirsten Sinclair on service. I thought\u2026\u201d She looked at me helplessly. \u201cI thought maybe the truth had found its own way here.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda reached into the stroller and took Oliver\u2019s tiny hand.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI thought he was mine,\u201d she whispered.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at her.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cHe is yours,\u201d I said, before I could stop myself.<\/span><\/p>\n

Everyone turned toward me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I swallowed hard.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYou carried him. You fed him. You know the sound he makes before he cries. You know how he likes his blanket and how to soothe him when he\u2019s afraid.\u201d My voice broke. \u201cThe truth matters. What happened matters. But he is not a prize to be passed around because adults lied.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda sobbed once, covering her face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth looked at me with quiet pride.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor looked away.<\/span><\/p>\n

The emotional conflict inside me shifted then.<\/span><\/p>\n

For a year, I thought Connor and Melinda had taken the family I could not have.<\/span><\/p>\n

Now I was staring at proof that something had been taken from all of us\u2014my consent, Melinda\u2019s trust, Oliver\u2019s origin, and perhaps the life of another child somewhere who had no idea a hospital waiting room had just begun searching for them.<\/span><\/p>\n

My anger remained.<\/span><\/p>\n

But it was no longer empty.<\/span><\/p>\n

It had direction.<\/span><\/p>\n

Protection.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMs. Ellison,\u201d Kenneth said, \u201cwe need names. Files. Anything that can help identify the other child.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nodded, wiping tears with a tissue.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have a ledger.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My breath caught.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cA ledger?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cNorthbridge kept informal transfer notes for private clients. Not in the official system. I copied pages before I resigned.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhere is it?\u201d Kenneth asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth\u2019s eyes moved to the hallway.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIn a safe deposit box. But I brought the index page.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She opened the envelope and withdrew a folded sheet of paper.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth put on his reading glasses.<\/span><\/p>\n

I stood beside him, heart pounding.<\/span><\/p>\n

The index page listed codes, dates, initials, and outcomes.<\/span><\/p>\n

One line had Oliver\u2019s date of birth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Embryo: K.S.-F4.<\/span><\/p>\n

Recipient: M.H.<\/span><\/p>\n

Outcome: Male live birth.<\/span><\/p>\n

M.H.<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda Harper.<\/span><\/p>\n

Below that was another entry.<\/span><\/p>\n

Embryo: K.S.-F5.<\/span><\/p>\n

Recipient: Private file A17.<\/span><\/p>\n

Outcome: Female live birth.<\/span><\/p>\n

Female.<\/span><\/p>\n

A daughter.<\/span><\/p>\n

Somewhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

My hand pressed against the table.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had a daughter somewhere.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not legally. Not emotionally. Not in any way simple enough for language.<\/span><\/p>\n

But genetically, biologically, impossibly\u2014a child connected to me had been born nine months ago.<\/span><\/p>\n

And I had not known.<\/span><\/p>\n

I looked at Kenneth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe find her.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

He nodded.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Before anyone could speak again, the door opened.<\/span><\/p>\n

This time it was hospital security.<\/span><\/p>\n

The officer looked apologetic.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDr. Sinclair, there\u2019s a couple at the nurses\u2019 station asking for you.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My breath caught.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat couple?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey say they were told to come here by Kenneth Boyd.\u201d He glanced at Kenneth. \u201cTheir names are Daniel and Grace Whitman.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth frowned. \u201cI didn\u2019t call anyone.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Ruth\u2019s face went white.<\/span><\/p>\n

I turned toward her. \u201cDo you know them?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

She nodded, tears forming again.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cPrivate file A17,\u201d she whispered. \u201cGrace Whitman.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

The room went utterly still.<\/span><\/p>\n

Outside the waiting room, I heard a woman\u2019s anxious voice.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWe received a message saying our daughter\u2019s medical history was needed urgently. Please, she\u2019s only nine months old.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My heart stopped.<\/span><\/p>\n

A baby began crying in the hallway.<\/span><\/p>\n

Not Oliver.<\/span><\/p>\n

Another baby.<\/span><\/p>\n

A thin, frightened cry that seemed to move straight through my bones.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor whispered, \u201cNo.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Melinda clutched Oliver closer.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth looked at me, silently asking whether I was ready.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was not.<\/span><\/p>\n

No one could be ready for a child to arrive at the door of your life through fraud, grief, and a stranger\u2019s fear.<\/span><\/p>\n

But I stood anyway.<\/span><\/p>\n

The waiting room door opened wider.<\/span><\/p>\n

A young woman stepped inside holding a baby girl wrapped in a yellow blanket. Beside her stood a man with protective eyes and one hand on the diaper bag over his shoulder.<\/span><\/p>\n

The baby turned her face toward the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

She had soft brown curls, round cheeks, and eyes exactly like mine.<\/span><\/p>\n

Grace Whitman looked from me to Ruth, then to Kenneth.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is going on?\u201d she asked.<\/span><\/p>\n

No one answered.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because at that same moment, Connor\u2019s phone rang again.<\/span><\/p>\n

He did not move.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth picked it up from the table where Connor had dropped it earlier during the chaos.<\/span><\/p>\n

The caller ID showed one word.<\/span><\/p>\n

Northbridge.<\/span><\/p>\n

Connor closed his eyes.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth answered on speaker.<\/span><\/p>\n

A calm male voice filled the room.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cMr. Fleming, congratulations. The surrogate has arrived in Seattle. If Dr. Sinclair remains difficult, we can proceed with the final transfer tonight.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

My blood turned cold.<\/span><\/p>\n

Kenneth\u2019s face went hard.<\/span><\/p>\n

The man continued, unaware the room was listening.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAfter all, one embryo left is one heir left. And this time, no one needs to know who the mother really is.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

END OF PART 2 – LIKE, SHARE AND COMMENT “THE ENTIRE STORY” IF YOU WANT TO READ THE FULL STORY<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The shattered bottle seemed louder than it should have been. Plastic pieces skittered across the polished hospital floor, spinning through a small puddle of milk until one fragment bumped gently against the toe of Connor\u2019s expensive shoe. The baby in the stroller startled at the sound, his face crumpling before a soft cry escaped him. … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":100,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-99","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-firm"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=99"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":101,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/99\/revisions\/101"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/100"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=99"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=99"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/talesandnews.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=99"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}