Hypergeniture Bk 02 Pt 02

Author's Note:

All sexual activity is between characters that are 18 or older. This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, places or events is purely coincidental. The below is not intended to serve as a guide for real-life sexual encounters or relationships. Stay safe, happy and healthy! :-)

As always, feel free to reach out with any feedback!

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06 • Diagnosis

I had no choice but to see a professional.

After I was stabbed, we hid out on Alicia's family farm. There were minor -- insignificant -- memory lapses and the most subtle moments of madness back then. But the hallucination on the train, the imagined conversation with Sian and the appearance of 'Jane' were episodes of full-blown psychosis.

Much of it could be attributed to stress or even insanity, but somehow I had managed to intuit the existence of Alicia's half-sister.

"The subconscious mind is truly incredible," the psychiatrist remarked. He was an ancient man with youthful energy, three doctorates -- none of them honorary -- and an easy demeanour. Despite more than a little unmistakable charm behind his smile, his face was cadaverous. His dark hair was undisturbed by age, full and thick... Probably because he was wearing a wig.

We were in a nondescript room in Dubai, with our plane having just landed and a convoy of two-dozen blacked-out SUVs having delivered us to some soulless penthouse we'd be renting for our stay. I remembered landing in Singapore months ago and falling in love with the city, and I felt no such love for this new place as the man interrogated me, and I had nothing to look at except him and the gaudy skyline.

"I'm not here to make you feel better, Mr Orwell," he said bluntly. "I'm here to find out what's wrong with you and fix it."

"There's a difference between the two?"

"Yes."

"What's the difference?" I asked.

The shrink started colouring something on his notepad. As we spoke, he'd been doodling, which I found moderately annoying, but it helped him formulate his probing questions, and I wanted him to ask the right ones. I wanted to get better, stop hallucinating, and arrest my descent into madness.

"Why do these visions only happen in South Africa?" the doctor asked, alluding to the last time my imagination got carried away. "Why do they only happen when you're close to your bodyguard's childhood home?"

"She's my chief of staff," I corrected.

"But her primary task remains protecting you... So, why do the hallucinations only ever happen when you're near where she grew up? Is it because you both had predatory fathers, perhaps?"

Shaking my head, I exhaled and accepted that I had to work with this man. I had to be honest. "I can't be sure my father was a creep," I explained, but the shrink wasn't buying it.

"As I said, Mr Orwell, the subconscious mind is remarkable. You may not have direct proof, but you've collected enough clues to have made a conclusion. You could, of course, ask your mother if he molested and abused her, but you've already made up your mind that he did. In the same way, you figured out Alicia Le Roux has a half-sister..."

Setting his pen and pad aside, the therapist reached for something: A bottle of red wine.

"You want us to have a drink?"

"No, Mr Orwell, I want you to remember being on Alicia's family farm -- a winery -- and enjoying some of their product. For example, this bottle of merlot has three figures on the label: One man, one woman, and one child."

"Her father designed it," I guessed. "For Alicia and her mother?"

"Don't play dumb."

I took a deep breath. "You're right. They left him, so if he dedicated anything to his wife and daughter, it would have been a new wife and a new daughter... Jane and her mother. Alicia told me she'd killed the last man who tried to hurt her -- she said so when we were held captive -- but I knew it wasn't her father. I knew she'd never kill to protect herself or seek revenge, but she would easily defend someone she loved. I guessed that person was this half-sister I'd never met or even heard of, considering that Alicia doesn't seem to have many other friends and no other family."

The shrink reminded me of my earliest hallucinations. I recalled being on Alicia's family farm and picking up a photograph in my room -- a photograph that disappeared as soon as I set it down. The people in that picture were arranged in the same way as the figures on the label, which led to my subconscious deductions.

Once I accepted this, the psychologist nodded and carried on. "Very good, but the half-sister's name isn't Jane. Her name is Nicole Le Roux, and she is indeed incarcerated in South Africa. But I don't want to talk about her real name or the real half-sister... I want to talk about the name you invented for your hallucination."

"Jane? I must've seen it somewhere..."

"The name Sian is a variant of Jane," the shrink instructed. "These two hallucinations represent the same thing. Sian appeared in your dreams as Hamlet's

father

and 'Jane' is Alicia's half-sister on her

father's

side."

I couldn't help but snort. Don't get me wrong, I believe in psycho-analysis, but I found this line of reasoning reductive. "So, it all comes down to my daddy issues? Be more creative--"

"I'm not talking about your state of mind, Mr Orwell. I'm talking about your thinking on a very logical level. They haven't told me everything, but I know you're confronted with a threat you don't fully comprehend and that your father was somehow involved. Your subconscious can't stop trying to piece it all together."

This was interesting. "I need to take my dreams seriously because they might be the result of some incredibly complex process in the back of my mind?"

"Yes."

"Still, my thoughts are running away with me. I'm dangerously close to being delusional."

"Yes."

"If I can't trust myself, how can my sisters trust me? How can anyone trust me?"

"I've interviewed everyone," the doctor assured. "I can promise you that your relationships are genuine, Mr Orwell. You are beloved, and you adore those who adore you. But these limitless relationships are something I must caution against. I can't tell you to stop, but you have to be careful."

"You just can't put me on meds," I plead. "They'll dull my sense. I won't be able to take good care of my family anymore."

"I don't have a choice, Oliver. It would be best if you were placed on anti-psychotics for the hallucinations."

The doctor explained that my hallucinations are psycho-dynamic -- that the unconscious has emerged in the conscious. He didn't see a need for further tests and wasn't prepared to offer a more conclusive diagnosis. However, he reminded me that I'd been stabbed with a poisoned blade, involved in a jungle ambush, beaten, and shot at... It wasn't inconceivable that there would come a time when I took a turn for the worse.

He assured me again that the immediate treatment wouldn't severely affect my daily life, and he warned that the mental disturbances were far more harmful than anything he could prescribe.

"Luckily, all that weight on your shoulders can be shared with your family, friends and staff. It's time to realise what it means to be a leader -- a family's leader! It's not just about self-sacrifice... It's about working together, and it's about delegating."

"I don't want to expose anyone to--"

"To what?!" the shrink bellowed. "You don't want to expose them to real life? To reality? Well, get over it. If you think they're ready to cast aside fundamental social rules, they're surely ready to stand by you for what's to come!"

I knew the doc was right. I knew I had to listen to him.

I knew it was time.

"I guess I'm a little frightened by it all," I confessed.

"Naturally," he conceded. "That's why you need to be the best -- the very best. You seem to want to live a life unlike any other, where you can do things forbidden for the rest of us. Well, you'll need to be the world's greatest fighter, businessman, friend, lover, thinker and worker -- things you've always aspired to in a much more limited sense. But, mark my words, you can't do it alone. Once you realise that the people around you are ready to support you if you lead them, you will destroy your enemy, and you

will

live happily ever after."

"Happily ever after..." I let the words linger having enjoyed the old man's passionate outburst.

"What about my mother?" I asked. "Will she join me for this happy ending?"

"That depends," my interlocutor shrugged. "Are you willing to stop being her worried son, so you can start being her leader? She's lost. She needs a firm but loving guide to the world, Oliver. Can you be that?"

I didn't have an answer, so I looked to my feet and waited for a piece of advice. Eventually, the doctor -- who seemed all-knowing -- indulged the desire.

"You've done your best," he said. "Now, give someone else a chance... Trust someone else to take a shot and see what happens."

• • •

I searched our 80th storey penthouse high and low for signs of family or staff. Aside from a few maids and a handful of armed guards, the only other person I found was Tecla. She was sitting in an unused bedroom, playing a slow tune on one of her brand-new guitars.

My sister was hunched over the large acoustic instrument; her long black hair concealing her face as she plucked the chords to some song I didn't recognise.

"Sometimes I forget how good you are at playing," I interrupted, meeting my sister's smile as she flicked her hair back and looked into my eyes.

"Are you okay, Olly?"

"Gonna need some pills," I admitted, "but I'm okay."

Tec set the guitar aside and approached me, holding onto my collar as our lips met and heat built between us. If a lifetime of love could be summarised in a few seconds of contact, then that kiss would be the ultimate memoir of our dedication to each other. We blitzed through the pages of our story with tongues meeting as our minds discovered the metre and rhyme of our passion.

Who needed pills when you could have kisses like that?

I reached for my sister's belt. It was a thin leather strap with a flimsy buckle that I could easily snap in two -- ripping it off her body so I could make love to her. But I sensed hesitation, and I'd never take advantage.

I took a beat, making sure I was confident in my sense, and stepped back. "What's wrong?"

"Elle and Natasha are doing some online shopping... Your sister-wife feels our cousin needs a wardrobe befitting a billionaire's mistress. They want to surprise you with some sexy outfits."

"And Tash being here makes you feel uncomfortable?"

"No!" Tecla smiled, playful punching me on the shoulder as if I'd just said the dumbest thing ever uttered. "We just can't have sex without Elle here, silly."

I nodded before giving Tec an appreciative peck on her cheek. "Twins... You two always have to do everything together. Can I ask you a serious question, though?"

"Sure, Olly, you know we have no secrets."

"Okay... I've just sensed a real connection between you two, and I guess I'm wondering why you haven't completed our circle... Why you haven't made love?"

My sister shrugged. "Is that what you'd like? Because if it's what you want--"

"I want you to be happy," I clarified.

"Well... It's not that I don't find Elle attractive... If I'm being honest... When we have sex together... I... I sometimes feel a little infatuated with her. But... Uhm..."

Without hearing Tecla complete her thought, I felt I understood completely. "You can't put it into words right now, but one day you will..."

Tec smiled. "Oh, big brother, I'll do much more than just put it into words! But, patience is a virtue for those who want to do, and those who want to watch."

"In the meantime," I shifted, "you did such a good job managing our money while I was away that I want you to play a central role in the family's business affairs as our private investment arm's chief operating officer."

Tecla grinned from ear to ear in a mixture of shock and delight. "Don't be crazy, dude! I got lucky while you were gone. I don't have an education or experience in this stuff."

"You do have an education," I countered. "Every morning before school, we all read the newspapers together. You used to help me run the family's accounts and manage our debt! I know it's not the same, but you know how the world works, and I trust you to make me proud. At first, there won't be a massive paycheque... We're starting from scratch to ensure we're not too exposed to Pellinore's

unique

situation. If you do what I know you can do, you'll make this family stronger and wealthier than we would've been had I kept all the responsibility to myself and some suits we hardly know."

Tec seemed flummoxed, striding back to her guitar so she could play something for me. She grabbed the instrument and wanted to start, but then she set it down again and reached for her phone with this excited look on her face.

"When Elle and I were running things, she had us do background checks on the whole staff. We found this adorable picture of Skylar, which I've been dying to show you!"

Tecla was using a distraction tactic to avoid talking about new responsibilities, but when I saw what she had to show me, I didn't mind.

It was an old yearbook photo of my stunning and super-suave bodyguard-cum-valet. She didn't have the same sculpted platinum blonde hair, devastatingly divine bright pink lips or movie-star teeth. Instead, she had dark hair that seemed dirty, horrible acne and a dour expression.

Back in Singapore, many moons ago, I realised a lot of Skylar's brand was for show -- that she was compensating for being bullied when she was younger. With photographic proof of her awkward phase, I felt I better understood her... I felt that underneath what you might call ego was a normal person with insecurities and a history replete with ups and downs.

The picture may have shown a girl with many physical flaws, but it also revealed someone with intense complexity. I knew why Tecla showed it to me -- to confirm that they had someone human looking out for them while I was away. Someone who wasn't just a stale professional, but was very much part of our family and our lives.

As Tecla settled into a comfortable pose with her guitar, she raised her eyebrows to draw my attention to a visitor.

"Isabelle!" I greeted, spotting my driver by the door. We'd reunited in South Africa, but I was still determined to embrace her each chance I got -- to show her how happy I was that she was back.

"Could we have a quick chat, boss?" she asked.

"Sure, let's go to my office."

While we walked through the spacious penthouse, I asked Isabelle how she settled after all the changes. I sensed some tension between her and her fellow Catholic -- Skylar -- with both of them having attended similar girls' schools, albeit in different parts of the world. My job was to make sure my people were happy, especially if those people risked going to jail for me or rescued me from a guerrilla army by putting together a strike force on short notice. As we reached the office, though, it became clear Isabelle's happiness was the last thing on her mind.

"Alicia was a little freaked out by your hallucination on the train, and not just because she's worried about your health."

"How do you mean?"

"Obviously, she knows you can't control your dreams or these hallucinations, but it kinda feels like you reached into her head. In a way, I guess she feels violated. Whether you did anything wrong or not, it's just how she feels."

I understood. "She values her privacy, and she makes a point of being a little distant. Now, she probably feels very..."

"Vulnerable?"

"Exposed," I concluded. "She must feel very exposed."

"Yeah... Yeah."

"With her history--"

"Don't tell me anything I'm not supposed to know," Isabelle reminded that she knew far less about her colleague than me. "Alicia will be a little cold -- she's going to pull away -- but she will never let anything stop her from supporting you. It's her life's mission, and sometimes I think it's the only thing in this world that matters to her. But... Forget about being her friend. Forget for just a little while, so she can wrap her head around being so close to a man that he can decipher her secrets in his sleep."

Before I could reply, there was a knock on the door -- both my sisters looking rather serious. Isabelle took their arrival as her cue to leave, and they walked in with pep in every step, shutting the door behind them.

Now that they were together, the girls wanted a full report on my session with the psychiatrist. I trusted them to handle every last detail. Strong and full of love, my girls didn't flinch as I revealed all. They offered their unconditional support.

"I think having Tecla handle some of our investments is a great idea," Elle affirmed, looking sternly at her sister as she did. If she didn't back me up on the decision, Tec would've resisted it -- afraid to take the risk -- but she had the confidence to take on the task with both her siblings in favour.

At that moment, I saw a role for Elle... Something I should've realised a long time ago.

She was my co-parent growing up. Together, we kept the wheels rolling and managed to make a family out of our shattered existence. Now, I believed she could use the management, negotiation, and compromise skills that we employed to run our private life on a much bigger scale. After all, she'd always been a better 'herder' than me, corralling our lives to ensure everyone took their place and felt good doing it.

"Elle," I started, "you're going to become a lawyer one day."

My sister beamed. "Like you, Olly?"

"Kind of... Tecla will handle finance, and you're going to handle diplomacy... Look, I've spent my whole life trying to shield you guys from mom. At first, that was the best possible approach, but now you're old enough to face her. She hasn't been listening to me, no matter how hard I've tried to win her over and help her. Maybe... Maybe it's time I gave you a shot -- giving you a chance to do what I haven't been able to."

Elle's eyes went wide. Out of instinct, she extended her hand for me to shake. We were making a deal, and after I shook her hand, I did the same to Tecla.

I'd raised them, and now that they were all grown up, I needed their help.

07 • Admission

My Singapore penthouse was the ultimate urban property. Nothing in the world compared, though the place we were renting in Dubai certainly had its merits.

I kept an irregular schedule. During the days, I slept. At night, I worked harder than I'd ever worked before. My purpose was simple: I wanted to build an infrastructure for our family... Not for some corporation or myself, but for anyone who shared my bloodline.

"This must be how it starts," I told Skylar, who was the only person who could keep up with my new schedule. She never left my side, whether she'd sit silently and read a novel while I worked or whether she'd be busy with tasks of her own.

"This is how what starts, sir?"

"Crime families," I answered. "Secret societies, mafia organisations and secret cabals that run the world. I'm starting a business, but its purpose isn't profit. Its purpose is to keep us alive, protect our interests and destroy our enemies."

Skylar's smile stretched across her whole face. She loved this -- loved being part of something. "I'm with you every step of the way, sir. But... You're going to burn out. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine..."

"And the new medication?"

"Skylar," I tutted, "I am perfectly fine."

The arrival of a computer technician interrupted our conversation. She was a petite redhead, flown in from the States to help set up our new secure networks. Skylar took a shine to the girl and shadowed her closely.