Three

CHAPTER THREE: THE MISTAKE

"Tell me how another woman ended up with my sample, and don’t waste my time with excuses."

Sebastian Blackwood’s voice cut through the conference room so sharply that the junior executives stopped pretending to study their notes. He had been halfway through a discussion about a new hotel acquisition when his assistant handed him a message from the fertility clinic. The director had requested an urgent call and refused to explain the reason through staff. Sebastian had stepped into a private room expecting a storage update. Instead, he heard the words *sample mix-up* and *possible pregnancy*.

“It was a handling error,” the clinic director said. “We are conducting an internal review, and we sincerely regret—”

“Do not give me a rehearsed apology before you tell me what happened.” Sebastian shoved his chair back so hard that it struck the wall. “You were entrusted with biological material that could result in a child. Explain how you used it in someone else’s treatment.”

The director swallowed. “A patient underwent insemination today. During the processing stage, the wrong sample was selected. We have reason to believe yours was used. The patient has been contacted about a procedural irregularity, and we are verifying every record.”

“You believe? You have a label, a barcode, a chain-of-custody log, and staff whose job is to prevent exactly this. I want names, timestamps, and a full report.”

Sebastian’s anger was not quiet or polished. He paced while the director spoke, interrupted when an explanation sounded incomplete, and demanded that the clinic preserve every record before anyone could accidentally overwrite it. He was not embarrassed by the people listening outside the glass wall. He was furious that a serious mistake had happened at all.

His family had spent years turning the idea of an heir into a deadline. A condition in the Blackwood family trust would be reviewed before the end of the year, and the next generation’s succession rights were tied to the existence of a direct heir. His grandfather’s recent cardiac crisis had made the subject more urgent. Every visit ended with the same question: when would Sebastian stop treating marriage like a choice and give the family someone to inherit the empire?

Sebastian wanted a child someday. He did not want to marry a stranger merely to satisfy a trust clause, and he refused to pretend affection could be manufactured by a family lawyer. He had begun exploring a carefully supervised fertility arrangement, with clear consent and legal protections, but he had not yet made a decision. He had certainly not consented to having his sample used in a patient’s procedure without authorization.

“Who is the woman?” he demanded.

“Her name is Elena Hayes. She underwent her fourth insemination attempt. We cannot yet confirm pregnancy.”

“Was she told it may not have been her husband’s sample?”

“She has been told that an error occurred. We did not want to give her incomplete information before verifying the source.”

“You have already given her incomplete information by hiding the most important part. Tell her the truth as soon as you have enough evidence to do so. She deserves to know what happened to her body.”

He ended the call and immediately summoned Marcus, his lawyer. Marcus found him pacing near the window, jacket discarded over a chair and anger still bright in his eyes.

“I need the clinic’s complete incident report,” Sebastian said. “No summaries. No attempt to soften the language. I want the records preserved and an independent specialist reviewing the handling process.”

Marcus took notes. “Should we prepare compensation?”

“Not as a way to make her disappear. The clinic is responsible for its mistake. We will meet our legal obligations, we can talk to her if she is ready to carry the child as a surrogate and sign the document.”

Marcus paused. “they are still investigating,”

“I am aware.” Sebastian rubbed a hand over his face. “That is why this is serious. It does not mean I own her choices.”

Marcus opened the patient summary the clinic had sent under its emergency protocol. Elena was married, and her husband’s name was Adrian Hayes. Sebastian recognized him from business functions: a man who wore expensive suits and treated every conversation like a contest he expected to win.

“Does her husband know?” Sebastian asked.

“The clinic hasn’t confirmed that.”

“Then don’t contact him behind her back. She is the patient. We speak to her through the proper channels, and we do not share her information with her husband without a legal basis.”

Sebastian’s phone began vibrating across the table. His grandfather’s name appeared. He almost ignored it, but he knew the old man would keep calling until someone answered.

“Have you finally made a decision about the heir?” his grandfather demanded as soon as the call connected.

“Something serious happened at the clinic. My sample was used in another patient’s procedure by mistake.”

“Then perhaps this is an opportunity.”

Sebastian went still. “A woman has been dragged into a situation she did not choose, and your first thought is that it might solve your succession problem?”

“Watch your tone. If the child is yours, you must protect the family’s future.”

“The child’s future begins with the woman who may be carrying it. I will not treat her as a vessel or turn an accident into a plan.”

His grandfather began to answer, but Sebastian ended the call. His hands were shaking with anger. He hated the clinic for its carelessness, his family for seeing a possible heir before a human being, and himself for realizing that this mistake might change his life in ways no contract could control.

“Find out what support Elena needs,” he told Marcus. “And make sure she receives the full truth. I want to meet her.”

Marcus nodded and left to make the arrangements. Sebastian stood alone by the window, looking down at the city he had spent his life learning to control. For the first time in years, he had no idea what the next move should be. The phone rang again. It was the clinic director, and his voice sounded even more strained than before