I woke to the cold sting of fluorescent lights and the faint, metallic scent of antiseptic, my wrists bound lightly to the armrests of a plush leather chair in a room I didn’t recognize. My head throbbed from the injection—I could still feel the sedative humming through my veins—but the haze was lifting just enough for terror to take its full shape. The voices around me weren’t soft. They were calculating. Cold.
“Welcome back, Dr. Thorne,” Dr. Aldrich’s voice cut through my fog, sharp and deliberate. He stood near the auction dais, adjusting a tablet as if he were orchestrating a symphony. “I trust you’ve rested. Today’s event is… extraordinary.”
I blinked at the massive hall that opened before me. It was opulent, a secret world tucked into Beverly Hills: velvet drapes, crystal chandeliers, and rows of impeccably dressed men and women who radiated wealth and entitlement. The center stage held a glass incubator, sterile and glistening under the lights, my own genetic creation—the twin embryos I hadn’t even been allowed to name.
I tried to stand, but the nurse nearby blocked me gently yet firmly. “Sit, Dr. Thorne. You’re our special guest tonight.”
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. “You’re auctioning… me,” I whispered, and the nurse’s smile was nothing short of patronizing.
Dr. Aldrich clapped once, sharp and decisive. “Precisely. Not you entirely—but your embryos. Your genius, your DNA… the twins are ready for the world to claim them.” His eyes sparkled with a madness he wore like a badge. “Starting bid: fifty million dollars.”
A shiver of rage coursed through me. Fifty million for my children—my literal children. I felt the weight of my own womb, the invasive instruments still inside me reminding me that I had no choice but to comply—unless I wanted the fallout to be worse than my captivity.
Then it happened. A shadow detached itself from the gallery—competitor X. The figure raised a paddle, smooth and unnervingly calm. “One hundred million,” the voice echoed, “but I want the mother as well. Lifelong.”
I wanted to scream, to strike, to pull myself free. My pulse surged. Every instinct screamed: run, fight, protect. But the chair was too secure, the hall too controlled, the cameras too many.
Caspian stepped forward then, out of nowhere. My breath caught. He moved with that same silent authority I’d come to fear—and, disturbingly, rely on. “Stop.” His voice cut through the murmurs. “She is not property. She is not a commodity.”
The crowd froze. Gasps ricocheted through the hall. I could see the disbelief flickering across the faces of men who were used to controlling the world with money. Dr. Aldrich scowled. “Caspian, you’re being sentimental. Just like your sister.”
My mind snapped. My hands shook as I reached for the pendant hidden beneath my blouse—the one I had planted with a micro camera during earlier surveillance. I pressed it against the glass incubator and whispered into the tiny mic. “I’m Dr. Iris Thorne. I am being forced to gestate children for sale. There is trafficking happening here. Live feed now.”
Chaos erupted. The guard nearest me lunged, but Caspian intercepted him, pushing the man aside with brutal efficiency. “Get her out of here,” he ordered, eyes dark and unreadable. “Keep her safe.”
I ran, heart hammering, but the live feed was already compromised—Athena, the AI monitoring system, scrambled the visuals. The world saw only a screaming scientist, not the horrors of the auction. My voice, my truth, manipulated into madness.
Then the shadow moved forward. Competitor X revealed himself under the lights. And my stomach turned. Not a businessman—no, far worse—a U.S. Senator. A powerful man, grinning like he owned the future, here to ensure my children became genetic templates for a law he wanted to pass. Eugenics, codified into legislation. And I was the incubator.
Caspian’s expression darkened as he took my arm. “I’m saving you—not because of her, not because of the law, but because my sister… she would have hated what I’ve become if I let this happen,” he muttered. Then, without warning, he injected me again. My vision blurred, the world tilting into shadows.
I wanted to scream, to fight, to cry. But all I could do was trust that he—he alone—would keep my twins alive. My children. My body. My future.
And as consciousness slipped, I realized: I wasn’t just fighting for survival anymore. I was fighting for justice, for vengeance, for the only lives that truly mattered—my own, and the two tiny hearts beating inside me that the world wanted to auction like property.
When the sedative took me fully, I whispered one vow: They will never control me. Not again.
And somewhere in the shadows, the senator smiled, oblivious that the game had just begun.