Karma Comes Knocking for the Winsperes'

As soon as it was reported that Nicolette was not only no longer in our care, but had also managed to leave the state, I received a call from the head of the Genetics department. He demanded our presence at the home office in New York.

There was to be a summit before the Council so we could explain how we managed to lose a multi-billion dollar piece of property.

Peter and I hardly had time to react before we were carted off to a secluded airport and onto a private jet. The moment we stepped onboard, I knew that this plane was usually reserved for VIPs.

It dripped with opulence. From the velvet seats, to the minibar, to the young flight attendant; who for a brief second, made me question my beauty. It was divine, delicious, and nothing short of exquisite.

The fear I had been suppressing came roaring to the forefront of my mind as the captain announced that we were about to land. We would soon be walking into the lion's den. I had no illusions. We had messed up on an immeasurable scale! Failed experiment or not, Nicolette wasn't our property to lose.

The plane had scarcely touched down before we were whisked off and heavily armed security guards grabbed Peter and me by the arm. Terror bubbled up from my stomach to my heart when they separated us; taking Peter to the right and me to the left.

I was quickly deposited into the backseat of a black, heavily tinted, Cadillac Escalade with armed men seated on either side of me.

By the time we pulled up in front of a nondescript high-rise building, my distress had intensified. It jumped to new levels when the car doors opened and more guards appeared looking even more intimidating than the ones that had taken me off the plane.

I was yanked from the car and hustled into an elevator that was as swanky as the private jet. My life flashed before my eyes, and I wondered if at the end of these proceedings I would walk out or be dragged out of this building in a body bag.

When we stepped off the elevator there was a moment of silence before the hallway exploded into chatter. Shaking in fear, I suddenly found myself desperate to step back onto the elevator. As if they could read my mind, the guards took hold of my arms and practically carried me to the front of the room.

Peter was already at the defense' stand. I was stunned to see him sporting a black eye and bloody, swollen, lips. When our eyes met, I saw pain and absolute horror. He was petrified!

Having to defend ourselves in front of our boss and colleagues was my worst nightmare come to life. I had heard rumors about the 4-seat Council. They only appeared once or twice a year, and that was only if there was a monumental scientific breakthrough or someone made an immense blunder and needed to be "handled."

For a second, a surge of anger washed over me. All of this was Peter's fault! If only he had quit this job when he had a chance; our family would not be in this mess. It's not like we needed the money. Not for the first time, I wished that the experiment they had inseminated in me had perished during the gestation period. Rage consumed me.

I was lost in thoughts of how to put all the blame on Peter and extricate myself when cold, clammy, fingers touched mine

Peter was searching for my hand and once he found it, he interlaced our fingers. All the anger I was feeling towards him disappeared. Rage and fear were replaced by a sliver of warmth and the knowledge that no matter what we were about to face, we would do it together.

Suddenly, a gavel banged. The room, and my mind, quieted. My heart, on the other hand, was threatening to jump out of my chest with every thump. The trial of our lives was about to begin.