Chapter 2 The Younger Son's Temptation, The Eldest Son's Captivity

# Chapter 2: The Younger Son's Temptation, The Eldest Son's Captivity

The morning after my wedding night revelation, I woke alone in the massive suite, sunlight streaming through windows that someone had remotely uncovered. My husband was nowhere to be found—not that I was complaining. The champagne stain on his custom tuxedo shirt had given me a small measure of satisfaction, but the reality of my situation remained dire.

I was legally bound to a man who viewed me as spare parts.

My phone buzzed with a text from Herbert: "Business in Tokyo. Back Thursday. The car will take you to the estate. Settle in."

No "good morning," no acknowledgment of last night's confrontation—just orders, as if I were another employee. I supposed in his mind, I was even less. I was inventory.

The Ballard estate turned out to be a modernist fortress nestled in the hills overlooking the city—all glass, steel, and imposing angles. A small army of staff greeted me with practiced deference, showing me to the "mistress suite" with its expansive views and separate everything from Herbert's quarters.

"Mr. Ballard prefers his privacy," explained the housekeeper, a thin woman with watchful eyes. "He mentioned you might want to redecorate to your tastes."

"How thoughtful," I murmured, noting the security cameras discreetly positioned throughout the house. My new home was a beautiful prison, and I was being monitored.

I spent my first day mapping the estate, memorizing exit points, and identifying blind spots in the security system. My father hadn't raised a fool, despite what the Ballards might think. Before our company's collapse, I'd headed our cybersecurity division. Those skills might prove useful now.

On my third day alone in the mansion, I was swimming laps in the infinity pool when I sensed someone watching me. I surfaced to find Maurice lounging in a deck chair, sunglasses hiding his eyes but not his smirk.

"Breaking in the family amenities?" he asked, offering a towel as I climbed out of the pool.

I wrapped it around myself, suddenly aware of my exposed skin. "Does Herbert know you're here?"

"My brother doesn't control my comings and goings." Maurice's smile was sharp. "Besides, I live in the guesthouse when I'm in town. Family compound and all that."

Great. The viper's nest had two snakes.

"What do you want, Maurice?"

"Just checking on my new sister-in-law." He removed his sunglasses, dark eyes assessing me. "Did you find the document interesting reading?"

I kept my expression neutral. "If you're trying to drive a wedge between your brother and me, you're wasting your time. Our arrangement is strictly business."

"Is that what he told you?" Maurice laughed. "Herbert doesn't do anything without multiple layers of purpose. The kidney is just the beginning."

My heart raced, but I refused to show fear. "I'm not playing whatever game you two have going."

"No game." He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folder. "Just thought you might want to see what you're really dealing with."

Against my better judgment, I took it. Inside was a medical report with Herbert's name at the top.

"What is this?"

"My brother's latest physical. Note the progression on page three."

I flipped to the indicated page and felt my blood run cold. The report detailed a rare genetic condition—progressive and terminal. According to the doctor's notes, Herbert had perhaps five years left, with significant decline expected after his thirty-sixth birthday.

"Why are you showing me this?" I asked, my mouth suddenly dry.

Maurice leaned closer. "Because you're not just a kidney donor, Linette. You're a human pharmacy." He tapped the report. "Herbert's condition requires specialized treatments derived from stem cells. Guess what the most viable source is?"

"Bone marrow," I whispered, the pieces clicking together.

"And with the right genetic match—say, from a compatible kidney donor—the treatments are significantly more effective." His voice dropped. "He won't stop at one organ, Linette. You're his pharmaceutical gold mine."

I thought I might be sick. "That's insane. Even Herbert couldn't—"

"Couldn't what? Marry a woman solely to harvest her body parts? Wake up, Linette. My brother is dying. There's nothing he won't do to survive."

I handed the file back, my mind racing. "Why tell me this? What's your angle?"

Maurice's smile was enigmatic. "Maybe I don't like seeing pretty things destroyed." He stood, sliding his sunglasses back on. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching Herbert's plans unravel."

He turned to leave, then paused. "By the way, he's not in Tokyo. He's at the medical facility on the north side of the property, preparing your 'donation' schedule. I'd start planning my exit if I were you."

After Maurice left, I sat trembling by the pool. If what he said was true—and the medical report looked legitimate—I needed to leave immediately. But where would I go? The marriage contract had clauses that would bankrupt what remained of my family's company if I fled.

I needed leverage, something to negotiate with. And for that, I needed proof.

That night, I slipped out of the main house, using the security blind spots I'd identified earlier. The medical facility Maurice mentioned wasn't on any of the estate maps shown to me, but I'd noticed a modern building partially obscured by trees on the north perimeter.

Using the key card I'd cloned from a distracted staff member, I accessed the building through a service entrance. Inside was a state-of-the-art medical facility that would make most hospitals jealous. Laboratories, recovery rooms, operating theaters—all empty and waiting.

In the main office, I found what I was looking for: a computer terminal. Using skills I hadn't employed since my company's better days, I bypassed the security and accessed the files.

What I found made my blood freeze. Not only was Maurice telling the truth about Herbert's condition, but the facility contained detailed medical plans for me—harvest schedules for bone marrow, blood, possibly even eggs. I was to be systematically mined for compatible biological material, kept healthy enough to continue producing what Herbert needed.

And there was more—files on other women, previous "donors" who had mysteriously disappeared after their usefulness ended. I downloaded everything I could onto a flash drive, my hands shaking.

A noise in the hallway sent me ducking behind a cabinet. Through a crack, I saw Herbert himself entering with a doctor, discussing what sounded like preparation protocols.

"—want to begin immediately after my return from New York," Herbert was saying. "The compatibility is unprecedented. Her cells respond even better than we projected."

"And she's agreed to all this?" the doctor asked.

Herbert's laugh was cold. "She signed the contracts. Agreement is a formality at this point."

They moved deeper into the facility, their voices fading. I slipped out and ran back to the main house, my mind spinning with plans. I needed to get this information out, create an insurance policy before Herbert returned and began his "treatments."

I spent the next day appearing normal while secretly preparing my escape. I contacted my old friend from cybersecurity under the guise of catching up, encoding a message asking her to create a secure drop for the files I'd stolen.

Just as I was about to send the data, my bedroom door burst open. Herbert stood there, his expression thunderous.

"Going somewhere?" he asked, eyeing my laptop.

"Just catching up on emails," I replied, closing the screen casually while my heart hammered.

He moved with unexpected speed, grabbing my arm. "Strange. Because security shows you visited a restricted area last night."

"I got lost on a walk," I lied. "Your estate is enormous."

"And needed a stolen key card to get lost?" His grip tightened painfully. "I expected better from you, Linette. After all, your cybersecurity background is partly why you were selected."

Selected. Like a lab specimen.

"Let go of me," I demanded, trying to pull away.

Instead, he forced me to stand. "I think you need time to reconsider your position. Perhaps somewhere with fewer... distractions."

Two security guards appeared behind him. Despite my struggles, they escorted me through the house and down to a lower level I hadn't known existed. Herbert followed, punching a code into a sleek panel that opened to reveal a luxurious suite—with no windows and what was clearly a reinforced door.

"Your accommodations until you become more cooperative," Herbert announced as the guards pushed me inside. "Everything you need is provided, except, of course, communication devices and access to the outside world."

I spun to face him. "You can't keep me prisoner! People will ask questions—"

"Will they? Your family thinks you're on an extended honeymoon. My staff is well-paid for their discretion. And as for your friend you just contacted—she now works for a Ballard subsidiary. Amazing how quickly people's loyalty shifts when their mortgage depends on it."

The door began to close, but Herbert held it open a moment longer. "Oh, and don't bother looking for cameras. They're there, but well-hidden. Get comfortable, Linette. You'll be here until I decide otherwise."

The door sealed with a soft hiss, the lock engaging with mechanical precision.

I stood frozen for several minutes before surveying my new prison. It was designed like a luxury apartment—bedroom, sitting area, bathroom with a soaking tub, even a small kitchen stocked with food. But the ventilation grills were too small to climb through, the furniture was bolted down, and every potential weapon or tool had been removed.

That's when I noticed the walls. What I'd initially taken for abstract art was actually photographs—dozens of them, artfully arranged in a modern gallery style. As I moved closer, my stomach dropped.

They were all of me. Me with Maurice at the pool. Us talking in the garden. Him handing me the medical file. All taken from various angles, some clearly from security cameras, others from a distance with a telephoto lens.

The message was clear: Herbert knew everything. He'd been watching us all along.

A small envelope sat on the coffee table, my name written in Herbert's precise handwriting. Inside was a simple note: "Betrayal has consequences. For both of you."

Fear gripped me—not just for myself, but for Maurice. Whatever his motives, he'd warned me, tried to help me. And now Herbert knew.

I paced the luxurious prison, searching for weaknesses, finding none. Herbert had planned this contingency too well.

As night fell, the lights automatically dimmed. I lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling, formulating and discarding plans. I needed leverage—something to make Herbert reconsider his position.

Then I remembered the flash drive, still hidden in my bra. He'd been so focused on my laptop he hadn't searched me personally. I had the evidence, but no way to use it.

Or did I?

The next morning, I spotted the hidden camera in the air vent above the bathroom door—amateur placement. Pretending not to notice, I showered and dressed in the clothes provided, all while planning my move.

When the door opened at precisely noon and a security guard delivered lunch, I was ready. As he set down the tray, I knocked over a glass, creating a distraction.

"I'm so sorry," I apologized, bending to help clean up. As he reached for napkins, I palmed his radio, slipping it under the sofa cushion.

After he left, I retrieved the radio and examined it. Standard security issue, with channel selectors and a panic button. I needed to time this perfectly.

At 3 PM, when I'd noticed the guard shifts changed, I pressed the emergency button three times—the universal distress signal. Then I waited.

The response was immediate. My door flew open, and two guards rushed in, weapons drawn.

"What's the emergency?" one demanded.

I sat calmly on the sofa. "Tell Herbert I need to speak with him. Now."

"That's not an emergency, Mrs. Ballard."

I held up the flash drive. "This contains evidence of illegal human experimentation conducted by Ballard Enterprises, including DNA harvesting without consent, false imprisonment, and possible homicide. If Herbert doesn't speak with me in the next hour, copies go to every major news outlet."

The guards exchanged glances before one spoke into his radio. Twenty minutes later, Herbert arrived, his expression glacial.

"Theatrics now, Linette? I expected more sophistication."

I held up the flash drive. "One guard leaves, or I swallow this. Your choice."

After a tense moment, Herbert dismissed one guard, keeping the burlier one by his side.

"What do you want?" he asked coldly.

"Release me, cancel the donation plans, and I'll give you the only copy."

Herbert laughed. "You expect me to believe that's the only copy? Please."

"It is," I bluffed. "I didn't have time to distribute it before you found me."

His eyes narrowed, assessing me. "And why would I trust you?"

"Because unlike you, I don't lie about everything." I held his gaze steadily. "We can negotiate new terms. One donation—the kidney you originally contracted for—and then I'm free. No more harvesting."

Herbert studied me for a long moment before his lips curled into a chilling smile. "You still don't understand your position, do you?"

He nodded to the guard, who produced a tablet and turned it to face me. On the screen was a live feed of Maurice, bloodied and tied to a chair in what looked like a warehouse.

My blood ran cold.

"You think he was helping you?" Herbert's voice was almost gentle. "My brother has always wanted what's mine. You're just his latest attempt to take what belongs to me."

On the screen, someone struck Maurice again. Despite the violence, he managed to look directly at the camera, his eyes communicating something I couldn't decipher.

"You're a monster," I whispered.

"I'm a survivor," Herbert corrected. "And you, my dear wife, are the key to my survival." He reached for my hand, his grip painfully tight. "Now, shall we discuss your real options?"

As panic threatened to overwhelm me, I remembered the high-heeled shoes I'd been provided—an unexpected luxury in my prison. Ballard arrogance at its finest.

With a sudden movement, I grabbed the nearest heel and smashed it into the surveillance camera in the corner, sending sparks flying.

"Your brother," I said, my voice steady despite my racing heart, "just messaged me that he has evidence of your crimes. All your crimes, Herbert. Did you really think he wouldn't have insurance?"

Herbert's face paled slightly—the first genuine reaction I'd seen from him. For a brief moment, doubt flickered in his eyes.

That tiny crack in his confidence was all I needed. The game had changed, and now I had to find a way to exploit it before time ran out for both Maurice and me.