Page 11 of The Housewife's Robot
I stretch my arms above my head, wincing as my spine cracks after hours hunched over the keyboard. Two thousand more words to go, and my brain feels like soggy bread. The article on sustainable urban planning veers into a rant about self-centered men who take and take without giving anything in return. Not exactly what my editor asked for.
The soft glow of my desk lamp creates a small circle of light in the darkness of the spare room. Rain patters against the window, calming my soul. I’ve gotten used to these nights—me, my laptop, and the hollow echo of a marriage that exists only on paper.
A sudden clattering sound from down the hall jerks me from my thoughts. I freeze, fingers hovering above the keyboard. The house is supposed to be empty except for me and Caspian. Buthe usually moves carefully and silently, never disturbing me. For him to be loud is unreal.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice sounding thin in the quiet house.
No response. Just the persistent drumming of rain against the windows.
I push back from my desk, the old chair squeaking in protest. The sound scrapes against my already frayed nerves. I shouldn’t be scared. Besides, I have Caspian, the world’s most advanced security system in human form.
My bare feet make no sound on the hardwood floor as I walk down the dark hallway—a sliver of light spills from beneath Daniel’s office door. I hesitate, hand hovering over the doorknob. Daniel usually keeps his office locked.
I turn the doorknob and the door swings open at my touch, revealing Caspian kneeling on the floor, gathering papers from a toppled box. His head snaps up when I enter, eyes widening slightly—an expression almost like guilt flickering across his perfect features.
“Mrs. Bennet,” he says, straightening immediately. “I apologize for disturbing you. I was dusting Mr. Bennet’s office and accidentally knocked over these files.”
Something about his explanation seems off.Was he lying?He’s a freaking machine, though.
But suddenly, my eyes turn to Daniel’s computer, which is on and unlocked. It’s usually locked because of Daniel’s obsessive nature. Yet there it sits, displayed bright in the dim room, a message notification blinking in the bottom right corner.
“Is that a message?” I ask, quickly walking towards his desk.
Caspian steps to the side to let me through. “Yes, it appears to be synced to his phone. I was about to shut it down.”
The message notification catches my eye, and the preview of it makes my stomach twist in disgust:
“Can’t wait to feel you inside me again tomorrow. Same time?”
My legs carry me forward on autopilot, my heart dropping. I sink into Daniel’s chair, grabbing the mouse immediately to read the rest of the messages.
CHAPTER FOUR
ROSE
Heart pounding wildly, I click on the message icon, and suddenly the screen fills with a conversation thread. I notice a conversation between my husband and someone saved in his contacts asK.
“Mrs. Bennet, perhaps…” Caspian begins, but his voice fades into background noise as I scroll up through the messages.
“Last night was amazing. I can still taste you.”
“Can’t stop thinking about how wet you get for me.”
“Make sure to wear that red thong I like tomorrow.”
These are all messages fromhim. Each message is like a slap to my face.
My fingers tremble on the mouse as I continue scrolling, unable to stop this self-inflicted torture. And then I see thephotos of them. So many photos. Her body, naked and posed provocatively. Daniel’s dick, hard and ready. Selfies of them together, her lips swollen from kissing, his hand gripping her hair.
“Oh my god,” I whisper, bile rising in my throat.
Last night. Last night, Daniel came home and fucked me. Grunted and thrust inside me while I lay there, thinking at least he still wanted me sometimes. And all the while, he’d been with her first. Maybe came home to me smelling of her, his body still warm from hers.
I want to vomit. My skin crawls with the memory of his hands on me.Why haven’t I suspected him at all?!
I keep scrolling. I need to know everything. There are hundreds of messages dating back months. Almost a year of betrayal is documented in graphic detail. Plans for hotel rooms. Office quickies. Jokes at my expense.
“She doesn’t suspect a thing. Too busy begging me for a baby.”
