Chapter 7 - M-17
Luka told me the truth inside Rachel’s law office.
Nine years earlier, Luka had been twenty-nine and recovering from a serious abdominal injury.
Doctors warned that emergency surgery could leave him unable to have children.
Before the operation, Saint Vincent collected reproductive material with his consent for private storage.
It was labeled MORETTI SAMPLE 17.
M-17.
The material was never supposed to leave secure storage.
Six months later, Luka requested its transfer.
The hospital claimed it had been destroyed accidentally.
“My father discovered it hadn’t been.”
Luka nodded.
“He found internal billing codes showing M-17 had been moved to Hale Reproductive Center.”
I felt sick.
“The clinic where Ethan took me.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t my father tell me?”
“You were sixteen when he discovered it.”
“He believed he could stop the program before it ever touched you.”
“What program?”
Rachel slid several copied documents toward me.
Each had a patient number.
No names.
Next to them were genetic profiles.
Height.
Eye color.
Health history.
Education.
Family wealth.
I stared at the pages.
“They were selling people.”
“Genetic material,” Rachel corrected softly.
“Without consent.”
Luka’s expression hardened.
“Some samples came from patients.”
“Some came from donors whose consent forms had expired.”
“Some belonged to people who never agreed to donate at all.”
I stared at M-17.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
HIGH-VALUE PROFILE.
My stomach turned.
“Why you?”
Luka gave a bitter smile.
“My family name.”
The Morettis were not ordinary.
Even I knew that.
Their businesses stretched through shipping, construction, private security, and property across several states.
Luka had spent years avoiding the society pages, but the name still opened doors.
“They marketed your DNA?”
“To wealthy clients who wanted certain traits.”
I looked down at my daughter.
My hands trembled.
“No.”
Luka’s voice softened.
“We don’t know yet.”
“But you think—”
“I think Ethan selected a premium anonymous donor.”
“I think Vanessa gave him M-17.”
“And I think your father discovered years ago that Hale was reserving my stolen sample for clients connected to his network.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I whispered.
“I never consented.”
“I know.”
“Neither did you.”
“No.”
For the first time, Luka and I looked at each other not as strangers.
We were two people whose bodies had been used in a decision neither of us had made.
Rachel closed the folder.
“That’s why we need the safe-deposit box.”
The bank was closed.
But my father had anticipated that too.
The key also opened a private records locker maintained by Rachel’s firm.
She entered a code.
A steel drawer slid outward.
Inside sat one envelope.
My name was written across the front.
AVA.
I recognized my father’s handwriting instantly.
I opened it.
Inside was a flash drive.
A photograph.
And a letter.
My hands shook as I unfolded the page.
May you like
The first sentence destroyed me.
Ava, if you are reading this while holding a baby, then I failed to stop them.
