My Husband Planned to Harvest My Organs

The Hudson corporate headquarters gleams like a knife against the Seattle skyline. I can't see it from my garden prison, but I know it's there—the nerve center of the empire that owns me. Jaxson is there now, leaving me alone with my shattered illusions and Cooper's worried eyes.

In the executive suite, Jaxson's reflection stares back from the floor-to-ceiling windows. His gray eyes are fixed on the tablet in his hands, but he's not seeing the quarterly reports. He's seeing me.

'I want it done sooner.'

Sabrina's voice cuts through his reverie. She stands in the doorway, immaculate in a cream Chanel suit that probably cost more than most people's cars. Her blonde hair is swept into a chignon so tight it pulls the skin around her eyes taut. Those eyes—cold blue, calculating—are fixed on Jaxson with the intensity of a predator.

'The transplant date is already set for October,' Jaxson says without looking up. 'The medical team needs time to prepare.'

'October?' Sabrina's laugh is brittle glass. 'She knows, Jaxson. Your little pet project has figured it out.'

His head snaps up. 'What are you talking about?'

Sabrina crosses the room on stiletto heels, each click against the marble floor like a countdown. She drops a tablet on his desk, and the screen flickers to life with security footage from the estate. My estate. Me, staring at his phone. Me, reading the truth about Subject A and S. Ward-Hudson.

'You've been careless.' Her manicured nail taps the screen. 'She's not the docile little doll you thought she was.'

Jaxson's jaw clenches. 'She won't leave. She has nowhere to go.'

'Oh?' Sabrina's smile is poison-sweet. 'Then why did you lock her in the bedroom? Why is she huddled in a corner like she's afraid of you?'

The footage shows me exactly as I am—shaking, curled against the wall, Cooper's body pressed protectively against mine.

'She's confused,' Jaxson says, but his voice lacks conviction. 'She'll come to understand her purpose.'

'Purpose?' Sabrina's voice drips venom. 'You mean your obsession? You've been fucking your organ donor for five years, Jaxson. Do you think that's normal?'

His hand slams down on the desk. 'Watch your mouth.'

'Or what?' She leans closer, her perfume—expensive, suffocating—filling the space between them. 'You'll lock me away too? Oh wait, you can't. I'm your wife. Your real wife.'

The silence between them crackles with tension.

'October is too late,' Sabrina says finally. 'The transplant happens next week. I've already arranged it with the medical team.'

Jaxson's eyes narrow. 'You had no right—'

'I had every right.' Her voice is ice. 'I'm the one dying, not her. I'm the one you swore to protect.'

Back at the estate, I'm sketching the same rose for the hundredth time when the new maid appears. Maria, she said her name was. Hired yesterday, while I was locked in the bedroom. She carries a silver tray with steam rising from a covered dish.

'Your dinner, Mrs. Hudson,' she says, her accent thick.

Cooper's head snaps up. His ears go flat. A low growl rumbles in his chest.

'Did you make it yourself?' I ask, my pencil stilled.

'Yes, ma'am. Mr. Hudson asked me to prepare your favorite stew.'

Jaxson never asks about my meals. Never.

Cooper surges to his feet, barking sharply. He lunges at Maria, teeth bared.

'Mi perdoni!' She drops the tray with a crash. The silver dome clangs against the marble floor, and the stew spills across the white rug.

The liquid sizzles. The rug turns black where it touches.

Maria's eyes go wide. 'I—I did not—'

'Get out.' My voice shakes. 'Get out now.'

She flees, and I stare at the burning stain spreading across the floor. Cooper's still growling, hackles raised, his body between me and the ruined meal.

Someone tried to poison me.

The realization hits like a freight train. Not Jaxson—this wasn't his style. He'd use a syringe, make it look like a medical procedure gone wrong. This was messy. Desperate.

Sabrina.

I grab Cooper's collar, dragging him toward the master bathroom. The only room with a separate lock, a separate ventilation system. I push him inside, lock the door behind us.

'Cooper, stay.' I press my forehead to his golden fur. 'We'll figure this out.'

But deep down, I know we won't. Not here. Not in this beautiful prison where I'm nothing but a walking organ bank.

Night falls like a shroud. Cooper and I huddle in the bathroom, listening to the house's electronic systems hum. The security panel outside the bedroom door glows green. Armed. Secure.

Then it doesn't.

The light flickers red, then goes dark. Footsteps creep down the hallway—not Jaxson's confident stride, but the shuffle of multiple people trying to move quietly.

Cooper's growl vibrates against my chest. He knows. He always knows.

The bedroom door creaks open. Male voices mutter in the darkness. Cooper's body goes rigid, ready to protect me.

'Find her,' someone whispers. 'Boss says make it look like an accident. No survivors.'

The bathroom door rattles.

Cooper's bark shatters the silence.