The grainy black-and-white image flickered onto the monitor.
At first, David noticed nothing unusual. The doctor, however, became very still.
He adjusted the angle.
Looked again.
Adjusted it once more.
Allison noticed first. “Is there a problem?”
Dr. Rosen did not answer immediately. Instead, he pressed a button near the wall. “Please send legal counsel and security to Ultrasound Room Three.”
David straightened. “Why would you need security?”
Allison gripped the edge of the bed tighter. “Doctor, what’s wrong with my baby?”
Dr. Rosen removed the probe and folded his hands together. “I need to confirm some details before continuing.”
The atmosphere in the room shifted. Colder. Heavier. Charged.
A few minutes later, the door opened. A man in a navy suit entered beside two uniformed security officers.
David’s face hardened. “This is ridiculous.”
Dr. Rosen angled the screen slightly toward him. “Mr. Harlow, according to the intake form, Ms. Allison Greene reported conception approximately nine weeks ago.”
“That’s right,” Allison answered quickly.
Dr. Rosen nodded once. “The fetal measurements do not support that timeline.”
David frowned. “What does that mean?”
The doctor’s voice remained calm and clear. “Based on fetal development, conception occurred at least four to five weeks earlier than the date provided.”
Silence crashed into the room like a slammed door.
David blinked. “That’s impossible.”
Allison turned pale. “Maybe the dates are wrong.”
“By over a month?” Dr. Rosen asked.
The door behind them had not fully closed. Linda, Megan, and the others had drifted close enough to hear every word.
Megan pushed it open wider. “What is going on?”
Dr. Rosen turned toward the group. “It means the pregnancy predates the timeline given to this clinic.”
Linda stared at Allison. “No. No, that can’t be right.”
David looked from the screen to Allison and back again. “Tell him he’s wrong.”
Allison swallowed hard. “Doctor, machines can be wrong.”
Dr. Rosen lifted a printed report. “Measurements this consistent are not a machine error.”
David’s expression changed—first confusion, then realization, then a rage so sharp it drained the color from his face.
“You told me you got pregnant after our trip to Miami,” he said.
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