On my son Gavin’s 18th birthday, a mysterious call from a man saying, “It’s time…” left me shaken. Despite my wife Lorna’s concerns, I met the caller, Ellis, who revealed a shocking truth. Years ago, during fertility treatments, our doctor used experimental gene therapy with Ellis’s genetic markers to enhance embryo viability, explaining Gavin’s distinct appearance despite a DNA test confirming I’m his father. Ellis warned that the clinic’s exposure
could involve us. Lorna, unaware of the therapy, was devastated. Investigators soon confirmed the clinic’s unauthorized gene editing, but we faced no charges. We told Gavin everything; he took it well, even joking about being a “science experiment.” He later befriended Ellis. The ordeal taught me trust outweighs doubt. Biology didn’t define us—love did.
