Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I see red for a moment, and my skin flashes hot.
For the bulk of my adult life, anything I’ve ever wanted has been a snap of the fingers away. “No” isn’t a word I’m accustomed to hearing. What mother wouldn’t want to meet her child’s donor father if given the rare opportunity?
“I don’t understand.” I sit straight, jaw tensing as my gaze bores into her. “That’s half the reason I agreed to this in-person meeting.”
Not to mention, the meeting is costing an arm and a leg in legal fees. The flights alone were several grand on such short notice, though I intend to have the firm bill Wickham’s office. Had I known the recipient wasn’t going to show, we could’ve fucking Zoomed this shit show.
Rhonda’s gaunt, papery cheeks flush. “When we spoke on the phone yesterday, Mr. Catalano, I informed you there was no guarantee. I spoke with your recipient yesterday and there was no changing her mind. She was adamant that she not meet you. I’m sorry.”
I shoot Steen and Farber a look, but they remain impressively stone-faced. As soon as we’re alone, we’ll have to discuss our next move and hopefully get ahead of any impending storms. More than likely this woman is looking to cash in on this … unfortunate mishap.
The door opens again, this time ushering in a tall, reedy man with salt-and-pepper lining his temples and thick rimmed glasses. The white lab coat covering his suit identifies him as Dr. Martin Wickham.
“Sorry I’m late, folks,” he says in a humble Midwestern tone. “Was just finishing up an embryo transfer. Can’t rush those.”
He chuckles as he takes a seat at the far end of the table, opposite of me, and he meets my stare without an ounce of reservation. His casual buoyancy is impressive given the circumstances.
“Mr. Catalano, as the founder and owner of this clinic, I want to first offer my sincere apologies. This entire thing has been a blemish on our pristine history, and quite frankly, we’re disappointed and embarrassed. We’ll do everything we can to ensure it never happens again,” he speaks as if he memorized a script his lawyers gave him. “In the meantime, we’re happy to offer you a settlement. I know it won’t change what’s already taken place, but it’s a show of good faith.”
The older-looking of his lawyer team slides a folder to Steen, who flips it open and scans the top document.
“Is this a joke?” Steen asks, sliding the folder to his partner. “A million dollars?”
A million? I make that in my fucking sleep.
“You do realize Mr. Catalano is worth hundreds of millions—and your actions have adversely affected the rest of his life,” Steen adds.
“All due respect, Mr. Catalano knew exactly what he was getting into when he first made his donation sixteen years ago. While the breach is unfortunate, it doesn’t change the fact that he was okay with the prospect of having a child or children out there who he’ll never know about.”
Farber clears her throat, tapping her glossy power-red nails on the folder. “This isn’t about that. Obviously our client knew what he was getting into when he signed on for this. This is about the recipient knowing the name of her donor and that donor being one of the richest athletes in the world. There’s a lot at stake for Mr. Catalano. She could make things extremely complicated for him if she wanted to. With cancel culture in the media lately, a single unflattering interview could affect his reputation—which would trickle down to endorsement deals and sponsorships and—”
Wickham’s first lawyer lifts a palm. “Yes, okay. We understand that. The issue is Dr. Wickham’s insurance company places limits on what they’ll pay out. In this case, they were only willing to pay a hundred grand. But because of who you are, Dr. Wickham is willing to front the other nine hundred from his personal funds. In our opinion, it’s an extremely generous gesture—one he isn’t legally obligated to do. And while we all know you’re not in need of the money, this is our best and final offer.”
“Everything’s negotiable.” Steen chuffs, shooting Farber a knowing glance.
“If you want to draw this out despite the fact that your client has no need for any of it, then by all means,” his second lawyer chimes in. “But I’d highly recommend putting this to bed so we can all move on.”
“How’d this happen anyway?” I interject. “Who’s responsible for sending that letter?”
Rhonda steeples her fingers. “It was a new hire. She’d only been on the job a few days. Somehow she cross-referenced your address with the recipient’s address. Even she was shocked at the error. Carelessness, I assume. We have no reason to believe it was intentional. In fact, she’s the one who realized the mistake after the mail had gone out. She came to me immediately.”