“Julian,” Dr.
Harrison asked, “did you tell your family what I told you before Luke’s party?”
The question landed more heavily than an accusation.
Julian remained standing beside the fireplace, one hand still holding the two torn halves of Sarah’s legal notice.
His face had lost its color.
Across the room, Khloe shifted Luke higher against her shoulder, but the movement was too quick and too protective.
Eleanor looked from her son to the doctor.
“What did you tell him?” she demanded.
Julian’s jaw tightened.
“This is confidential.”
“You signed the release,” Sarah said.
She tapped the document on the table with one red-painted fingernail.
Julian had signed it that afternoon while threatening litigation.
He had wanted Dr.
Harrison to confirm that I was twisting an ordinary medical consultation into an attack on the family.
He had been so certain authority would protect him that he had handed it permission to expose him.
Dr.
Harrison did not raise his voice.
“I need a verbal confirmation as well, Julian.
Do I have your consent to discuss the diagnosis in front of everyone present?”
Julian looked at Eleanor, then Khloe, then me.
I saw the calculation behind his eyes.
Refusing would look like an admission.
Agreeing would surrender control.
He had spent his life believing control and truth were the same thing.
“Fine,” he said.
“Explain it.”
Dr.
Harrison opened the report.
“The testing identified a genetic deletion associated with nonobstructive azoospermia.
Two independent samples confirmed the absence of sperm production.”
Eleanor blinked.
“Speak English.”
Dr.
Harrison turned toward her.
“Julian cannot father a child through natural conception.”
No one moved.
Somewhere beyond the closed doors, a member of staff lowered a tray.
Crystal touched silver with a faint chime.
Eleanor laughed once, sharply.
“That is absurd.
He has three sons.”
“That,” Dr.
Harrison said, “is why I advised him to address the matter immediately.”
Khloe’s fingers dug into Luke’s blanket.
Eleanor took a step toward the doctor.
“Could this have happened recently? An illness? A medication?”
“The underlying defect is congenital.
Julian was born with it.”
Julian spoke before anyone else could.
“You said spontaneous cases exist.”
“I said laboratory errors are theoretically possible.
That is why the tests were repeated.”
“And miracles?” Eleanor asked.
Dr.
Harrison’s expression remained professional, but his answer was mercilessly simple.
