Dominion’s Doctrine

Geraldine stared at the flashing drive in her trembling hand—one Kaison's source had risked his life to retrieve. It was sleek, black, unmarked. But it buzzed like it held hell inside.

In the silence of her bedroom, she plugged it into her private laptop. The screen blinked, then a folder popped up.

DOMINION PROJECT: GENESIS

Her heart skipped. The mouse hovered, fingers icy.

She clicked.

Dozens of files loaded—scientific reports, email threads, biometric scans, trial schedules—children's names redacted, though two files were marked:

RE-4521

LO-8827

Reena. Lovia.

Geraldine covered her mouth as nausea clawed up her throat.

They were assigned numbers.

Subjects.

Not daughters.

Subjects.

She opened a file titled Parental DNA Deviation Analysis. Words bled into each other.

"Subjects RE-4521 and LO-8827 display significant anomalous neurological patterns. Paired with Donovan DNA, the children represent ideal specimens for Project Genesis phase II. Emotional resistance, high IQ thresholds, low empathy markers. Controlled breeding success confirmed."

Controlled breeding.

Geraldine's ears rang. Her vision swam.

She hadn't just been a wife.

She had been a vessel.

Bred for corporate legacy. Chosen not for love. Not for compatibility. But for scientific outcome.

Everything Bekett ever said, every flower, every smile—lies. Orchestrated like a script. Dominion had selected her because her blood matched their sick blueprints.

This wasn't a business.

It was a lab.

And Eden… wasn't a project.

It was a weapon.

Across the city, in the sleek, bulletproof office of Dominion HQ, the core board members convened in the shadows. A long obsidian table separated giants—corporate heads, medical tyrants, ex-military minds. Bekett stood at the far end, ice in his veins, rage in his eyes.

"She has the files," he said.

One of the board members, a woman in a violet suit with cruel eyes, tapped her fingers on the table. "Then eliminate her."

"She's the mother of the children."

"She was a contract." Another man said, voice colder. "You should've kept her obedient."

"She was never obedient," Bekett muttered.

"You're compromised," Violet Suit said. "Your business partner—Marx—is undermining you. Your wife's off-script. Dominion cannot afford emotional liabilities."

Bekett's jaw clenched. "Geraldine won't go public."

The room fell quiet.

Then, a slow voice rose from the end of the table.

It was Lachlan Valez—half in shadow, cigarette smoldering.

"Donovan," he said smoothly, "the problem isn't your wife or Kaison. It's that you forgot the most important rule in war."

Bekett glared. "And what's that?"

Lachlan leaned forward.

"Never breed a queen when you're scared of losing the throne."

Geraldine was breaking.

Sleep-deprived. Paranoid. Spiraling.

Tracy found her in the kitchen at 3:12 a.m., surrounded by documents, coffee stains, and drawn blueprints.

"Ma'am," Tracy whispered. "You haven't eaten."

Geraldine didn't answer.

She was staring at a scribbled page where she had written two names again and again.

Bekett.

Lachlan.

Bekett.

Lachlan.

"Bekett was working with him," she whispered, eyes wild. "He was planning to use Eden on children in Lachlan's territories. Selling access. Trials. But Lachlan double-crossed him. That's why Bekett lost control of Dominion."

Tracy stepped forward. "Ma'am… you need to sleep."

"No." Geraldine stood, her voice shaking with fury. "I need to find my daughters. And burn every single bastard who touched this project to the ground."

Meanwhile, at the Donovan office, Bekett stormed through corridors of glass and silence. He slammed into his suite, only to find Kaison sitting at his desk.

Feet up. Calm.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" Bekett barked.

Kaison tossed him a folder.

Photos. Wire transfers. Video captures of Dominion's experiments. Children sedated. Brain scans. Bio-enhancements.

"The board turned on you, old friend. They're cutting you loose."

"You're bluffing."

"No," Kaison said, rising, deadly calm. "I'm fighting back. I never signed up to breed weapons out of toddlers. I'm many things, Bekett, but not this."

Bekett's voice was ice. "You're siding with her."

"No. I'm protecting the legacy you swore you'd never destroy."