My Husband Planned to Harvest My Organs

The charcoal smudges on my fingertips match the clouds gathering over Puget Sound. I've been sketching the same rose for an hour, trying to capture the way its petals curl inward like secrets. Cooper's head rests heavy on my thigh, his golden fur warm against the chill creeping through my cotton dress.

Five years in this garden, and I still can't get the roses right.

The estate sprawls around me—manicured hedges, imported marble fountains, windows that reflect nothing but sky. Beautiful. Suffocating. The ten-foot privacy walls are disguised as landscaping, but I know what they are. Protection, Jaxson calls it. The Hudson family has enemies. Rivals. People who would use me to hurt him.

I've never seen these enemies. Never heard their names.

Cooper's ears perk up before I hear the car. His tail thumps against the flagstone, and something in my chest loosens. Thursday. Jaxson always comes on Thursdays.

The black sedan glides through the gate—the only gate, the one controlled by biometric scanners I'm not coded into. He emerges in a charcoal suit that probably costs more than my grandmother's house did. Was worth. Before she died. Before Jaxson saved me from that grief, from that empty life.

He's across the garden in long strides, and I'm standing before I realize I've moved. His hands cup my face, thumbs brushing my cheekbones like I'm porcelain that might shatter.

"You're pale." His gray eyes scan my face with an intensity that used to make me feel cherished. Now it just makes me feel seen. Examined. "Have you been eating?"

"I'm fine." I try for a smile. "I missed you."

His mouth claims mine, possessive and thorough, tasting of mint and something darker. When he pulls back, there's a Cartier box in his hand. Another gift. Another beautiful thing to fill the beautiful emptiness.

"For you."

The bracelet inside catches the fading light—diamonds and sapphires in a platinum setting. It's stunning. It's a collar.

"Jaxson, it's too much. You don't have to—"

"I want to." He fastens it around my wrist, his fingers lingering on my pulse point. "You deserve everything."

The weight of it feels wrong. I touch the clasp, searching for words that won't sound ungrateful. "I was thinking... maybe I could have a phone? Just to—"

"Audrey." His jaw tightens, that small muscle jumping beneath his skin. "We've discussed this."

"I know, but it's been five years. Surely the threats—"

"The threats are constant." His voice drops to that quiet register that means the discussion is over. "Do you think I keep you here because I enjoy the distance? I'm protecting you. Protecting us."

He pulls me against his chest, and I can feel his heartbeat through the expensive fabric. Steady. Controlled. Nothing like the erratic flutter in my own chest.

"What about internet access? Just for—"

"No." The word is final. Then, softer: "I can't lose you. You're everything to me."

The words should comfort me. They used to. Now they feel like walls closing in.