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.

Inside, he insists on checking my medication organizer—the vitamins and supplements his private physician prescribed. He watches me take them with water, his gaze tracking the movement of my throat as I swallow.

"Good girl." He kisses my temple. "Have you had any pain? Fatigue?"

"No, I'm fine. Really."

His hand splays across my lower back, fingers pressing into my spine like he's counting vertebrae. "You'd tell me if something was wrong?"

"Of course."

Liar. I wouldn't know what was wrong if it carved itself into my skin. I only know this: the garden, the house, Cooper, and Jaxson's weekly visits. The rest of the world is a story I half-remember, fading like old photographs.

That night, he makes love to me with a fervor that borders on desperation. His hands map my body like he's memorizing it, lingering over my abdomen, my sides. Afterward, he holds me so tightly I can barely breathe.

"Mine," he whispers into my hair. "Always mine."

I close my eyes and pretend the words don't sound like a threat.

The shower runs in the master bathroom. Steam curls under the door, carrying the scent of his cedar soap. I'm reaching for my sketch pad when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.

He never leaves it unattended.

The screen lights up with a notification, and my blood turns to ice water.

*Medical Alert: Subject A—Kidney Function Optimal. Transplant Date Confirmed: October 15. Recipient: S. Ward-Hudson.*

My hands shake as I pick up the phone. The passcode—I'd seen him enter it once, months ago, when he thought I wasn't watching. Six digits. Our supposed anniversary.

The phone unlocks.

There's a folder labeled "The Reserve." My fingers move without permission, tapping, scrolling. Medical files. My medical files. Blood type. Tissue compatibility. Organ function reports dating back five years.

A document: *Marriage Certificate—VOID—For Subject Compliance Only.*

Photographs. Jaxson in a tuxedo, his arm around a woman in a white gown. A real wedding. A real wife. The caption reads: *Hudson-Ward Merger Celebration.*

The shower shuts off.

I'm still holding the phone when he walks out, towel around his waist, water droplets trailing down his chest.

His eyes lock on the phone. On my face.

The air between us crystallizes into something sharp and cutting.

"Audrey." My name in his mouth sounds like a warning. "Put the phone down."

I can't. My fingers are frozen around it, around the evidence of my own stupidity.

"Who is S. Ward-Hudson?"

Silence. Then he moves, crossing the room in three strides, taking the phone from my nerveless hands.

"Who is she, Jaxson?"

His expression shifts—the mask of the devoted husband cracking to reveal something cold and calculating underneath.

"My wife."

The words hit like a physical blow. I step back, my hip colliding with the dresser.

"Your—but we're—"

"That was never real." His voice is flat, matter-of-fact. "You knew that, on some level. You had to."

"The certificate—"

"A prop. For your comfort."

My comfort. The room tilts. "The transplant date. My kidney. You're going to—"

"You should be grateful." He sets the phone down with deliberate care. "I found you with nothing. Your grandmother's medical bills were drowning you. I gave you five years of safety, luxury, purpose."

"Purpose?" The word tears out of me. "You're going to cut me open like—like I'm spare parts!"

"You're saving a life." His hand reaches for me, and I flinch. Something flickers in his eyes—surprise, maybe. Hurt. "Sabrina needs you. I need you to do this."

"I won't. I'm leaving."

I move toward the door. He's faster.

The lock clicks. Digital. Biometric. His palm on the scanner, and the light turns red.

"You're not going anywhere." His voice is soft, almost gentle. "You're mine, Audrey. You've always been mine. And you're going to fulfill your purpose."

He leaves me there, locked in the master bedroom that's become a cell, the bracelet on my wrist catching the light like handcuffs made of stars.