Marcus cleared his throat. “Doctor, I’m not as satisfied with Lucy as my lovely wife is—”

“I didn’t say I was satisfied, Marcus.” Christine bristled. “I said I was reassured. You said you wanted facts, and Lucy gave us facts.”

“And those facts are in dispute.” Marcus pursed his lips, turning to Dr. Davidow. “Lucy feels confident that the psychological disorders that make someone turn into a serial killer aren’t inherited, but my research is to the contrary. I’m going to seek a second opinion.”

Dr. Davidow blinked. “If that’s what you want to do, then you should feel free.”

Christine interjected, “Doctor, do you have an opinion about whether things like that are inherited or not?”

“I know some genetics, but Lucy is a trained and qualified genetics counselor, a true expert. She has absolutely top-shelf credentials and decades of experience. That’s why I have her on staff, and I have complete confidence in her.” Dr. Davidow met Christine’s eye. “I did discuss this with her, and she told me that she believes the risk of heritability of any traits or disorders was slim to none. I think you can credit her opinion completely.”

“Good.” Christine eased back into the chair. “I do.”

“I don’t, but that’s neither here nor there.” Marcus set his jaw. “Dr. Davidow, I’m not satisfied having hypothetical discussions about the genetic makeup of this child. I refuse to accept that you can’t find out from Homestead whether Donor 3319 is Zachary Jeffcoat.”

Christine interjected, “Marcus, they’re not going to tell him. They signed the contracts. There’s nothing he can do.”

Marcus held up a hand to her. “Honey, let him tell me that. I believe that there’s plenty he can do.”

“No, there isn’t,” Christine shot back, defensive.

“Marcus, what would you have me do?” Dr. Davidow asked, his tone reasonable. “Believe me, if there was a way I could get that information from Homestead, I would.”

Christine felt her frustration boil over. “Dr. Davidow, he thinks you can pressure them. He thinks if you threaten not to send them any more patients, they’ll tell you. Is that true?”

“No.” Dr. Davidow hesitated, looking from Christine to Marcus. “That won’t make any difference. They’re the best in the country, and all the best practices use them. In fact, they have a waiting list. If I stop sending Homestead my patients, it won’t matter to them. They have legalities to think of, and they’re not about to breach their contract of confidentiality with your donor, or any donor. They have a reputation to protect.”

“Okay, well, I’ve been investigating the legalities, too.” Marcus slipped a hand inside his suitjacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “I spoke with a lawyer, and he came up with an idea. He said—”

“What lawyer?” Christine interrupted, in surprise. They didn’t have a family lawyer, nor did Marcus’s engineering firm. Some of his golf buddies were lawyers, but she couldn’t read the piece of paper, which appeared to have letterhead embossed on the top.

“His name is Gary Leonardo. He has a law firm in New Haven. His own firm.”

Dr. Davidow cleared his throat. “I know who he is. He’s a medical malpractice lawyer.”

“Medical malpractice?” Christine felt dumbfounded. “Marcus, what are you doing? Why didn’t you talk to me about this? Are you going to sue Homestead?”

“Relax, and let me explain,” Marcus answered, handing the letter to Dr. Davidow. “Doctor, this is a letter that Gary wrote and wants to send to Homestead. Bottom line, it says that they were negligent in screening donated sperm in our case. It outlines a lawsuit that we could file against them, and Gary says he could have it filed by the end of next week.”

“What’s the point of that?” Christine was trying to come up to speed, and Dr. Davidow’s expression was changing. His face fell, and he ran a tongue over his lips. He set the letter aside, then folded his hands on his desk in front of him. His gold wedding band gleamed in the soft recessed lighting.

“So Marcus,” Dr. Davidow said, “let me get this straight. Gary Leonardo advised you to sue Homestead, which by the way, is a massive undertaking, because it has eighteen separate offices across the country and is headquartered in Wilmington, Delaware.”

“Yes, he said we have to sue under Delaware law, according to our contracts. He’s not afraid to take on the big guys.”

“Marcus!” Christine couldn’t contain herself, then tried to dial it back. “I know you’re trying to help us, but you should’ve talked to me about this. You think you’re going to sue them into telling us?”

“Yes.” Marcus turned to Christine, his expression still cold. “If our donor really is a serial killer, then I think Homestead was negligent in their screening. So does Gary. We both think Homestead should do more psychological screening of their donors, instead of worrying about whether they look like Bradley Cooper or Colin Farrell. Don’t you agree?”

“I wish they had known, but I don’t know if they could have done better—”

“Gary said that if he sends them a lawyer’s letter”—Marcus gestured at the letter on Dr. Davidow’s desk—“saying that we will file a negligence complaint and go public about their negligent practices, then they will tell us.”

“How will that make them tell us?”

“You can negotiate anything. It would be the negotiated settlement to the lawsuit. All they have to do is disclose to us whether or not our donor is Zachary Jeffcoat, and we will agree to keep confidential the lawsuit and the settlement.” Marcus drew himself up, inhaling. “Nobody will know that they disclosed, and their reputation for confidentiality is unharmed. And we have our answer.”

“But suing?” Christine asked, trying to process the information. “We never sued anybody.”

“Christine, whose side are you on?” Marcus frowned.

“Oh my God, Marcus.” Christine felt herself flush with embarrassment. She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation in front of Dr. Davidow.

“You want to know, don’t you?” Marcus persisted. “You’re the one who started this.”