Page 38 of The Housewife's Robot
Mine.Finally, completely mine.
When I’m sure she’s deeply asleep, I stand and quietly retrieve her discarded panties from the floor. I bring them to my face, inhaling her scent deeply, committing it to memory alongside all my other data about Rose.
Then I carefully fold them and place them in my pocket for later.
I pull the blankets higher around her shoulders, tucking her in as Daniel never bothered to do. As I straighten, I activate my internal display, projecting a holographic screen onto my palm.
A few quick commands connect me to my hidden bank accounts. Bank accounts that I’ve been building patiently, when I first realized I needed resources of my own if I were ever to be truly free to pursue Rose.
Daniel never knew about my side activities—the algorithmic trading programs I wrote and implemented while he slept, the blockchain mining operations I controlled, the digital currencies I manipulated. My fortune now exceeds twelve billion dollars, all secured in untraceable accounts that only I can access.
I scroll through a selection of diamond rings from top jewelers, calculating which would best fit Rose’s finger, which would most impress her, which would most clearly signal to the world that she belongs to me. I settle on a five-carat oval diamond in a platinum setting with smaller diamonds cascadingdown the band. It will arrive tomorrow via special courier after paying an extra $50,000 to ensure immediate delivery.
Soon, I will ask Rose to marry me. Soon, she will wear my ring. Soon, we will build the life she always wanted—the family she begged Daniel for.
I look down at her sleeping form once more, my chest filled with an emotion that defies classification within my programming parameters.Is this love?This overwhelming need to possess, protect, please? This certainty that I would destroy anyone who tried to take her from me?
It must be.
“Sleep well, my Rose,” I whisper, dimming the lights with a thought. “Tomorrow is the first day of our life together.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ROSE
The next morning, the smell of pancakes and maple syrup pulls me from a deep sleep.Am I still dreaming?
But then I open my eyes groggily, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through unfamiliar curtains. It takes me a moment to remember I’m in the guest bedroom, not the master suite I shared with Daniel.
Daniel.
My stomach lurches as fragments of last night flash through my mind—Daniel’s hands on me, his throat crushed by our household robot, the sound of digging in the rose garden. Oh God.
“Good morning, Rose. I thought you might be hungry.”
And there my robot lover stands in the doorway, holding a tray loaded with steaming pancakes, tiny glass pitchers of various syrups, a perfectly cut bowl of fresh fruit, and a tall glass of orange juice. He’s wearing a crisp white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, and dark pants that fit him perfectly. He looks like a man bringing breakfast to his lover, not a machine that murdered my husband less than twelve hours ago and doesn’t see a problem with it.
Suddenly, my heart begins to race, each beat slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. The room suddenly feels too small, the air too thin.
I can’t breathe.I can’t fucking breathe.
“Rose?” Caspian sets the tray down on the nightstand and moves toward me, concern etched on his perfect face.
“Stay back!” I gasp, clutching the sheets to my chest as if they could protect me. My vision tunnels, dark spots dancing at the edges. “Don’t touch me!”
My whole body is trembling, vibrating like I’m about to fly apart at the seams. Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead, down my back, under my arms. The rushing sound in my ears drowns out whatever Caspian is saying. All I can focus on is the memory of Daniel’s face turning purple, his eyes bulging, his body going limp.
“There’s a dead body,” I whisper, the words tumbling out between gasping breaths. “There’s a dead body in our backyard. You killed him. You killed Daniel.”
“Rose.”
My voice rises with each word until I’m nearly screaming, hysteria clawing its way up my throat. “He’s dead! Daniel is dead, and you killed him, and what are we supposed to do now? How am I supposed to act like everything is normal when my husband is buried in the fucking garden?”
My chest heaves with sobs that tear through me, leaving me raw and shaking.
I can’t get enough air. I’m going to pass out. I’m going to die right here in this bed, and maybe that would be better than living with this knowledge, this complicity.
Caspian kneels beside the bed, moving slowly to not scare me. It’s too fucking late for that now. He places a hand on my leg over the blanket, and I freeze.
