been insignificant compared with the rest of my portfolio.
Genevieve had taken an interest in it because her father had died of lymphoma.
Elena continued.
“They tested Sofia and me.
A few weeks later, Genevieve came to the clinic.”
“My wife?”
“She wasn’t there as a patient.
She was asking questions about the research.”
“Why?”
“Because she had discovered that Helixor was using private genetic material from families without proper consent.”
The room seemed to shrink.
“That’s a serious accusation.”
“It gets worse.”
She pointed toward the report.
“Helixor had created an experimental fertility program for couples with certain inherited conditions.
Genevieve had trouble getting pregnant.
You knew that.”
I said nothing.
We had spent four years trying.
Two miscarriages.
One failed round of fertility treatment.
Months in which Genevieve stopped walking through the nursery wing of our house because it hurt too much to look at empty rooms.
“The
