“Complete analysis. Results show elevated hCG levels.”

“No, no, no, no,” Lena muttered, icy fear creeping up her spine and coiling in her stomach as a jolt of panic ran through her. “That can't be right. It must be a contaminated sample.”

Lena reached for a sealed test tube waiting on a shelf, opened a metal drawer and rummaged through the neatly arranged medical supplies to pull out another packed needle. She applied a tourniquet to her left arm, sat down on a stool, looked at the pale skin in the crease of her elbow, full of blue-green veins, and opened the needle with her teeth.

“Miss Luthor, the sample is not contaminated. The results show increased blood volume, and the physical symptoms of your condition are consistent with early gestational symptoms of pregnancy. By my calculations, you should be six...”

“I'm not pregnant,” Lena blurted out, her voice cracking as she jumped to her feet, the needle in her hand and the tourniquet slowing the blood supply to her left arm. “It's indicative of a uterine infection or tumor. Ovarian cancer. But I'm not pregnant. It has to be a mistake...”