My Robot Replacement

My skull slammed against the cold, granite pavers of the estate with a sickening crack that vibrated through my sensors.

A sickening CRACK echoed through the courtyard.

Then, the pressure inside my socket gave way. My left eyeball didn't just disconnect; it sprang from the socket, bouncing across the stone. There was no splatter of blood. No gore.

On the third-floor balcony, the man I loved stood with his arm around the woman who had just shoved me over the edge. He was waiting for the tears. Waiting for me to beg like a dog.

But his smirk died.

Frozen.

Because pouring out of my fractured skull wasn't gray matter or red blood.

It was a tangled mess of blue wires, hissing and spitting electric sparks.

Chapter 1

[SYSTEM ALERT: LEFT PATELLA SHATTERED.]

[WARNING: HYDRAULIC FLUID LEAK DETECTED. CORE TEMPERATURE CRITICAL.]

[STATUS: FORCED REBOOT INITIATED]

Red warning pop-ups flooded my vision. After the deafening crash, the world went on mute.

I lay on the manicured lawn of the front yard, folded in a way no human body ever could. My limbs were twisted at impossible angles.

The woman who pushed meScarlettwas clinging to the railing on the third floor, hands over her mouth, letting out a scream that was perfect for a soap opera.

"Oh my god! Cole! It's terrible! Lyra just jumped!"

Cole. My husband.

He heard the scream. He didn't run. He didn't panic. He walked over to the edge, looking down with pure disdain.

"Jumped? You mean Lyra? Of course she did. She's desperate for attention. She really thought something this stupid would make me care?"

"Fine. I'll give her what she wants."

There wasn't a trace of worry on Cole's face. He looked down at me like he was tossing a coin to a beggar. He saw "me" lying motionless on the grass, and his expression didn't flicker.

"Enough, Lyra. Cut the act. You're embarrassing yourself."

He thought I would crawl up. He thought I would take his acknowledgment as some kind of divine gift.

He waited.

Nothing happened.

Cole's face darkened. The patience was gone. "Lyra, don't push your luck. My patience has a limit, and you're testing it."

Scarlett, standing beside him, pitched her voice to be helpful. "Cole, maybe we should go down and check? What if something actually went wrong?"

Cole let out a cold laugh. "Check what? It's three stories, not thirty. Falling from that height is nothing. She'll walk it off. You think that could kill her?"

It's a three-story house. A fall like that might not kill a normal human instantly, but it breaks bones. It causes internal bleeding.

If you land on the back of your head, it kills you.

Cole ignored that fact. Or maybe he just didn't care. If I actually died right there in front of him, he would probably be relieved.

Too bad.

I died a long time ago. I can't die twice.

It has been three years, and Cole still hasn't figured it out. The thing lying on the grass, the thing that has stayed by his side for three full years isn't me.

It is a high-end companion android. I built her myself.

As for the real me? My mission failed. The system destroyed my physical body. But my soul stayed. By some glitch in the universe, my consciousness uploaded into this machine.

I can't control her. I don't need to. Her appearance, her programming, her every mannerism are a perfect replica of the woman I used to be. The chip in her head holds every single one of my memories.

Chapter 2

My servo-motors locked. A gear slipped out of alignment, jamming my hip joint. I was frozen in a crash stance, unable to twitch.

System Freeze.

Cole didn't see a malfunction. He saw a performance. He raised an eyebrow, his expression dripping with boredom. "Stop playing dead, Lyra. You're not that good an actress. Do you need a written invitation to get up?"

My system forced a hard reboot. Slowly, jerkily, I pushed myself off the grass. My movement was rigid, like a marionette with tangled strings.

"Cole," Scarlett whispered, clutching his arm. "Look at her leg. It's bent weird. Do you think she broke a bone?"

Cole didn't even blink. "She's young. She's not made of glass."

He waved his hand, dismissing the possibility of my pain. "If she's crazy enough to jump, she deals with the consequences. She's an adult, Scarlett. Don't waste your pity on an idiot. Besides, what's a few broken bones? She'll heal in a week. Stop being dramatic."

Scarlett let out a small, musical laugh. "You're right. Remember the neighbor's golden retriever? It fell off the roof and was chasing cars ten minutes later. Lyra is definitely stronger than a mutt, right?"

She called me Lyra, but her tone said *bitch*.

Cole wasn't stupid. He heard the insult. He just didn't care. In fact, he liked it. He liked hearing his childhood sweetheartthe one who got awaytear me down. It validated his own hatred.

They walked down to the yard. Scarlett rushed over, putting on a mask of wide-eyed concern. "Lyra! You scared me to death! Why would you do something so drastic? Are you okay?"

Cole hung back. He swept his gaze over "me." The awkward stance. The mud smeared across my cheek. The expensive silk dress torn by the rose bushes.

I looked dirty. Broken.

He clicked his tongue in disgust and took a step back, refusing to get his Italian loafers close to the mess. "This performance is pathetic, Lyra. Even for you."

His eyes drifted to the impact zone.

Something glinted in the dark grass. A silver hydraulic piston that had snapped off my knee joint. It reflected the moonlight, cold and metallic.

He saw it. But his brain filtered it out. He didn't want to see the truth.

Instead, he looked at the flattened flowerbed. "What a waste," he sighed, his eyes lingering on the broken petals. "You crushed the hydrangeas."

I knew he loved Scarlett.

I just didn't realize that a bush of purple flowers meant more to him than my life.

Three years of devotion. It was all a punchline.

"Lyra, look at Scarlett. She's shaking." Cole pointed a finger at my face. "Apologize to her. Right now. If you say you're sorry for scaring her, I'll let this go. I won't punish you for the jump."

The absurdity hit me like a physical blow.

Apologize.

To the woman who shoved me.

He wanted the victim to beg the executioner for forgiveness.

My vocal processor was still rerouting power. I opened my mouth to speak, to obey, but only a sharp static click came out.

The silence made Cole's jaw tighten. "You pick now to go mute? Really? You waited until I finally brought Scarlett home to pull a stunt like this?"

His voice rose, cracking with frustration. I was almost surprised. Did he actually remember that this villa was *our* home?

"Lyra, if you're jealous, just say it! Scream at me! Tell me you hate that she's here! Why do you have to be so passive-aggressive?"

Jealousy.

He was desperate for it. He brought women home to humiliate me. He paraded them through our living room, waiting for me to scream, to cry, to break plates. He wanted to see me unravel.

But he was destined to be disappointed.

When I built this android, I gave her one Prime Directive. One rule that overrode everything else:

*Love Cole.*

She would never be cold to him. She would never be impatient. She would never get angry. She would never get jealous. She would accept his cruelty with a smile.

Isn't that the perfect wife? Isn't that what he always wanted?

So why does he look like he wants to strangle me?

Chapter 3

Cole brought Scarlett home two days ago. The timing was poetic. It was the exact anniversary of my death.

I still remember the sensation of dying. It wasn't peaceful. It was a fire in my marrow.

I remember rolling off the mattress, my body convulsing in agony. My fingers, trembling like dry leaves, reached for the painkillers on the nightstand.

*Clatter. Scatter.*

The bottle tipped. White pills bounced across the hardwood floor, just out of reach.

Then came the red. A hot, metallic cough that splattered blood across the floorboards.

I begged CORE for one last favor. *Call him. Just let me hear his voice.*

One word. Just my name. That was all I needed to let go.

Cole didn't pick up. He was at the airport, busy saying goodbye to her.

CORE, in its infinite, cruel efficiency, projected the live feed into my dying mind. High-definition betrayal. They stood at the departure gate, wrapped in each other. Scarlett leaned in. She kissed him.

And Cole? He didn't pull away. He simply let it happen.

To anyone walking by, they looked like two lovers struggling to say goodbye.

My organic skin turned ashen, the last of my warmth fading into the cold plastic underneath. Silence took over the room. I initiated the activation sequence for the android standing in the corner.

Then, I closed my eyes forever.

After CORE disposed of my corpse, its voice echoed in the void.

[HOST. YOU FORFEITED THE MISSION. YOU TRANSFERRED THE TARGET'S MALIGNANT CANCER CELLS INTO YOUR OWN BODY.]

[DO. YOU. REGRET. IT?]

My soul, untethered and floating, whispered back. *No.*

My mission in this world was to capture Cole's heart. I knew him. I had watched him from the shadows long before Scarlett claimed him. I fell in love with the boy he used to be. The boy who emptied his wallet for the homeless. The boy who stopped traffic to help an elderly woman cross the street.

I staged a "meet-cute." I pretended to be in trouble. He saved me.

We fell in love. Or so I thought.

Then came the collapse.

We were on a date when he hit the ground. The diagnosis was brutal. Hereditary terminal cancer. Aggressive. Fast.

The system gave me a choice. Stay by his side until he died, and the mission would be complete. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't watch the light go out of his eyes.

I loved Cole. So I traded my life for his.

CORE was silent for a long time.

[LOGIC INVALID. EMOTIONAL VARIANCE DETECTED. AUTHORIZATION GRANTED: OBSERVER MODE.]

[YOU MAY REMAIN.]

So, I stayed.

Three years.

For three years, Cole never noticed the switch. He never realized the woman sleeping in his bed was a machine.

He grew to hate "me." He came home less and less. When he did return, he brought women. He paraded them through the house, flaunting his infidelity like a badge of honor.

The rumors spread through our social circle like wildfire. Lyra, the doormat. Lyra, the wife who smiled while her husband cheated. A disgrace to women everywhere.

I smiled bitterly. I never imagined our story would end like this.

Voices drifted in from the front porch.

"Cole, it's so late. Won't Lyra be upset if she sees me here?" Scarlett's voice was dripping with fake concern. "I don't want to make her jealous. Maybe I should just leave."

Silence. Then, Cole's voice, cold and sharp. "Ignore her. I make the rules in this house. Lyra doesn't get an opinion."

Scarlett giggled. "You really know how to handle a wife, Cole."

Cole didn't laugh. He just shouted toward the door. "Lyra! Get out here! We have a guest!"

The front door opened. "I" stepped out.

Without a word, "I" knelt down. "I" retrieved a pair of slippers for them, placing them by their feet. The movement was fluid, practiced. Servile.

Cole watched with a blank face. Scarlett, however, looked at me like she was seeing a ghost.

"Hey Lyra? Don't you recognize me?"

"I" looked at her. My facial recognition software scanned her features. I spoke her name perfectly.

Scarlett let out an exaggerated laugh. "Three years and you've changed, Lyra. You used to be so fiery. This obedient act? It's surprising."

Cole's lips thinned into a sneer. "She's acting. We all know what she's really likepetty, small-minded, jealous."

He glared at the robot standing so still in the moonlight. "She's playing the saint to make me feel guilty. Let's see how long she can keep the mask on."

Chapter 4

Scarlett and I never mixed. We were oil and water. Every time we clashed, Cole took her side. He didn't ask questions. He didn't care about the truth. He just defended her.

When I was alive, that used to feel like a knife twisting in my chest.

Now? I felt nothing.

Dinner was quiet until Scarlett let out a delicate, staged cough. Cole snapped his fingers at me. "Don't just stand there like a statue. Pour her some tea."

"I" turned and walked to the kitchen, returning with a fresh cup of tea.

Scarlett took one sip and wrinkled her nose. "It's lukewarm. My throat hurts, Lyra. I need it hot. Scalding."

"I" obeyed. "I" went back and refilled the cup with water straight from the boiling kettle.

Scarlett's eyes flashed with a malicious glint. She reached for the cup, and just as our fingers brushed, she let go.

Splash.

Scalding tea cascaded over the back of my hand, steam rising from the synthetic flesh.

It was such a childish trick. My chassis is waterproof and heat-resistant up to 500 degrees. I didn't feel a thing.

But Cole didn't know that. To him, I was flesh and blood. To him, that water should have blistered my skin instantly.

"Scarlett! Are you okay?"

Cole was out of his chair in a second, hovering over her.

"I'm fine, Cole. Lyra just slipped. Don't be mad at her."

Only then did Cole look at me. "What is wrong with you? You can't even serve a cup of tea without screwing it up? You are useless."

"I" didn't have permission to sit at the table. "I" stood in the corner, head bowed, absorbing his verbal abuse.

The irony was suffocating. I was the wife. I was the owner of this estate. Yet here I was, serving his mistress like a maid. Because he ordered it.

My programming had a hierarchy. Cole's commands were absolute. I knew he wouldn't believe me if I spoke up. Scarlett was special. She was untouchable.

Later, "I" limped back to the house, my hand mechanically brushing the back of my head. Cole stopped pacing. He frowned, his eyes narrowing on my movement.

"Lyra. Are you actually hurt?"

"I" froze. Then, "I" shook my head.

That was old habit. When I was human, I hid my pain. I didn't want to burden him. I programmed the android to do the same.

Cole didn't buy it. He remembered the fall. He remembered the sound of my skull hitting the pavement. He sighed, a sound of annoyed resignation. He marched over and grabbed my arm.

"Let me see. Did you smash your brain into mush? Not that there was much to begin with."

He reached around to the back of "my" head. He shoved his fingers through my hair. His fingers found the dent. The skull was caved in.

But his fingers came back dry.

No blood. No pain. Not a single drop of life.

I fell three stories. I smashed my skull on granite. And I wasn't bleeding.

Cole's eyes went wide. For a second, true fear flickered in his pupils. He stared at his clean fingertips.

Then, the fear vanished. A cold, cynical smirk took its place. He thought I faked it. He thought I was wearing protection.

"Lyra, if you're going to play the victim, at least make it convincing."

He wiped his hand on his pants, disgusted. "Jumping off a balcony? Faking an injury? You've really upgraded your manipulation tactics. Anything to get me to look at you, right?"

He was gaslighting himself.

Back in the bedroom, "I" lay on the mattress. Androids don't sleep. I was in Hibernation Mode, running a level-one diagnostic and self-repair sequence.

The door handle turned. Cole walked in.

He stood by the bed, looking down at me. His expression was a war zone of conflicting emotions. "Next time, try a different strategy. You know I hate it when people use their lives to threaten me."

I didn't.

My voice module was fully repaired. The tone was smooth, devoid of glitches.

Cole's face hardened. "Lyra, we're past the point of pretending."

He sat on the edge of the bed. "You used to hate Scarlett. You used to scream at me every time I mentioned her name. I knew you were jealous. I told you to stop competing with her."

He leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "So why are you so quiet now? Are you holding a grudge for three years?"

I couldn't help but wonderwhat did he want? He hated the living Lyra because she had feelings. Because she got jealous. Because she was human.

Now he has the perfect, obedient Lyra. And he hates her too.

Maybe he just hates Lyra. Period.

"I" sat up. My face was a mask of calm.

Cole stared at me, frustrated by the lack of reaction. He climbed onto the bed. He straddled my waist, pinning me down. "Lyra. Do you even love me anymore?"

I should have been the one asking that question.

But my programming kicked in. "Cole. I will always love you."

The tension in his shoulders dropped. His expression softened, just a fraction. He lowered his chest onto mine, resting his ear against my heart. He heard the simulated heartbeat thumping rhythmically.

But then he frowned. "What is that buzzing sound?"

He lifted his head, looking around the room. He heard the faint, high-pitched whine of the cooling fans and the electric current running through my core.

He dismissed it.

"Lyra. If you say you love me prove it."

His hand moved to the buttons of my dress.

Three years.

For three years, he hadn't touched me.

Tonight, he wanted to be a husband.

Chapter 5

Cole leaned down. His lips pressed against mine.

I saw the flicker of confusion in his eyes. He must have felt it. The anomaly. My lips weren't warm. They were room temperature. Cool to the touch. Synthetic.

He hesitated, pulling back just an inch. But before he could analyze the sensation, a voice drifted in from the hallway. Weak. Trembling.

"Cole? Cole, where are you?"

It was Scarlett.

"My stomach it hurts so bad. I think I need to go to the ER."

Cole froze. He hovered over me, his body tense. His dark eyes bored into mine. There was a storm behind his irisdesire, frustration, anger.

His hair fell forward, brushing against my cheek. Three years ago, that touch would have made me shiver. It would have sent a rush of dopamine through my nervous system.

Now? My tactile sensors registered the friction. Emotional output: 0%.

I lay there like a mannequin.

"Cole," "I" said, my voice void of inflection. "Scarlett is calling for you. Are you not going?"

Cole's jaw clenched. The mood shattered. "Is that what you want, Lyra? You want me to leave?"

"What about Scarlett?"

He let out a harsh laugh. "Are the maids and the butler dead? They can call an ambulance."

He knew. He knew we had staff. Yet for years, he treated me like the help. He made me serve him. He made me serve the women he brought home.

Suddenly, he grabbed my chin. "Lyra. Tell me not to go. If you ask me to stay, right now, I won't walk out that door."

It was a test.

But my code didn't have a subroutine for selfishness.

"I respect your decision, Cole."

The light in his eyes died. "Fine. Have it your way."

He rolled off me, disgusted. He grabbed his keys and stormed out without looking back. He drove Scarlett to the hospital himself.

CORE activated the livestream. Every day Cole was gone, CORE broadcast his life to me. I watched him in 4K resolution.

The hospital room was sterile and bright. Cole sat by the bed while Scarlett was hooked up to an IV. He was tender. He brushed the hair off her forehead.

"Are you hungry?" he asked softly. "Can I get you anything?"

Scarlett pretended to think. "I'm craving that seafood noodle soup the one Lyra makes. It's so rich. Can I try it?"

"Of course."

Cole pulled out his phone. A second later, my notification pinged.

[Make the seafood noodle soup. Bring it to St. Luke's Hospital. Now. Make it snappy.]

I stared at the screen. When we first started dating, Cole got sick. I learned to cook that soup specifically for him because it was the only thing he could keep down.

He used to brag about it on Instagram. He told everyone, *This is exclusive. Only I get to eat Lyra's cooking.*

Times change. Hearts rot.

I prepped the meal. I packed the thermos.

When "I" arrived at the hospital room, Scarlett was asleep. Her head rested on Cole's shoulder. Cole looked wrecked. Dark circles bruised the skin under his eyes. But he didn't move. He wouldn't risk waking her up.

He glanced at me, his eyes cold. "You took too long," he whispered harshly. "She's asleep. It's useless now. Throw it in the trash. It's garbage now, just like the effort you put into it."

He spoke to me like I was a piece of trash.

"I" nodded. "I" turned to leave.

"Wait," Cole whispered. He frowned, pointing his chin toward the bedside table. "Just leave it there."

"I" walked toward the table. Scarlett's eyes were closed. Her breathing was even.

But as I passed the bed, her foot shot out.

Calculated. Precision strike.

"I" tripped. My balance sensors failed to compensate in time. I hit the floor. The thermos flew from my hand.

*Splash.*

Hot, savory broth exploded across the hospital tile. Shrimp and noodles scattered everywhere.

Cole stared at the mess, his face blank.

"Oh no! Lyra!" Scarlett sat up, wide awake. She clutched her stomach, feigning shock. "Look at the floor! Why are you so clumsy?"

She looked at Cole, her eyes watering. "She did that on purpose, Cole. She didn't want me to eat it, so she wasted it. That's just shameful."

"I" opened my mouth to explain.

Cole cut me off. "Lyra. Did you hear her?"

His voice was terrifyingly calm. "Wasting food is shameful."

He pointed at the puddle of soup on the dirty floor. "Clean it up. Eat it."

Eat it?

On my hands and knees?

Like a dog?

Chapter 6

I knew Cole was trying to humiliate me. He was baiting me, waiting for the spark of anger, the flash of defiance.

But dignity is a biological luxury. It belongs to humans. Machines do not have egos.

The moment "I" bent my knees to crouch on the dirty hospital floor, Cole snapped. "Lyra!"

He lunged forward. His hand bunched into the fabric of my collar, jerking me upright with enough force to strain my cervical servos. "Have you lost your mind? People are watching! If you don't have any shame left, at least pretend for my sake!"

The rage followed us all the way back to the estate. It radiated off him in waves. Even Scarlett, usually so eager to talk, stayed quiet until we were inside the safety of the living room.

Then, she saw her opening.

"Lyra, you are so dull now. It's painful to watch." She walked a circle around me, her heels clicking on the hardwood. "No wonder Cole is sick of you. Anyone would be. You should just leave. Why are you holding onto a position that doesn't belong to you? It's pathetic."

Cole heard her. Scarlett flinched, waiting for a rebuke, but he didn't stop her.

Emboldened by his silence, she aimed for the throat. "Cole, don't be mad at me for saying this. But Lyra is just a jobless freeloader. She hasn't worked a day in years. She is completely useless. She doesn't deserve you."

I looked at Cole. He didn't deny it.

Five years ago, when I extracted the cancer cells from his body and took them into my own, I resigned from my public job. To the world, I became a housewife. A recluse.

But in the basement of this very house, with CORE's assistance, I didn't stop working. I became Z.

I became the ghost engineer behind the most advanced robotics patents of the century. A single blueprint from my server sells for ten million dollars on the private market.

When Cole's company hit a liquidity crisis last year, when the banks turned off the tap, it was me. I was the anonymous investor who injected the capital to save him.

Yet, standing there, I heard Cole say: "Scarlett, I know you mean well. And I haven't forgotten that you stepped in with the financing during the crisis."

He glanced at me with cold indifference. "Lyra will never be on your level. She can't be. But we are legally married. Keeping her around is just another line item in the budget. It costs me nothing to feed an extra mouth."

Scarlett huffed, disappointed she didn't get a divorce announcement, and stormed off to the guest wing.

Cole pulled out a chair and sat down. He looked at the butler. "Rupert. Run the numbers."

"Sir?"

"I want to know Lyra's expenses for the last three years. Check the accounts."

I processed the request. Was he finally checking? Was he trying to settle a score?

Rupert wiped a bead of sweat from his receding hairline. He tapped on his tablet, pretending to calculate figures he already knew. "Mr. Chen. We've verified the accounts. The monthly allowance you provided for Mrs. Chen she has used it all."

"All of it?"

"Yes, sir. Every cent. Balance: $0.00."

Cole let out a dark, arrogant laugh. He looked at me with pure contempt. "See that, Lyra? You're expensive. You spend every dime I give you. You need me. Without my money, you wouldn't last a day."

"I" remained silent.

Rupert let out a long, shaky exhale. He was safe.

In the beginning, the staff pitied me. They saw how Cole treated me. But pity rots. It turns into opportunity.

Over time, they realized something important: Cole never checked the household accounts. And "Lyra" never complained.

First, they skimmed a little off the grocery budget. Just a few hundred dollars. When no one noticed, they got bolder. They took half. Eventually, they stopped buying food altogether. They pocketed the entire allowance.

If "I" asked for money to buy groceries, they would just shrug and say Cole hadn't transferred it. They knew the robot wouldn't argue. They knew the robot wouldn't call Cole to check.

They knew I didn't matter.

To them, I wasn't the lady of the house. I was just a broken ATM they could rob blind.

Chapter 7

Cole's hatred didn't happen overnight. It was a two-stage decay.

The first fracture happened five years ago.

That was the day I handed in my resignation letter. I walked away from a career that was on a rocket trajectory. Cole didn't understand. He demanded a reason.

I looked him in the eye and lied. "I'm tired, Cole. I don't want to grind anymore. I just want to stay home. You're rich. You can afford to keep a trophy wife, right?"

Cole froze. He looked at me like I was a stranger. Years ago, I promised him I would never be a burden. I promised we would be partners, equals in everything.

"Lyra. Are you serious?"

I nodded.

"Fine."

He agreed. But the light in his eyes dimmed. Disappointment replaced the pride. He walked out of the room.

The second the door clicked shut, my knees hit the floor. I clamped my hands over my mouth, but it wasn't enough.

Blood.

Blood. Dark, metallic, and terrifyingly hot. It pushed past my fingers, dripping onto the carpet.

CORE spoke in my ear.

[MALIGNANT CELL TRANSFER COMPLETE. HOST BODY INFECTED. METASTASIS RATE: CONTROLLED.]

I wiped the blood from my chin. "Thank you."

The deal was done. The cancer that was eating Cole alive was now eating me.

But I needed to be sure. I dragged Cole to the clinic for a full checkup. His results came back pristine. Clean bill of health.

I looked down at my own report. Stage Four. Terminal.

"How are you?" Cole asked, tapping his foot.

I crumpled the paper in my fist and shoved it deep into my pocket. "Same as you. Healthy as a horse."

Cole rolled his eyes. "Oh. Great. You dragged me here for nothing? I have a meeting, Lyra. I don't have time to play these hypochondriac games with you. Since you're unemployed now, you have all the time in the world. I don't."

He left me standing in the hallway.

I waited until he was gone. Then I shredded my diagnosis and fed it to the trash can.

Cancer isn't just a disease. It's a torture device.

I thought I was tough. I thought I could handle the pain alone. I was wrong.

There were nights when the pain was a physical entity. It felt like a serrated knife scraping against the inside of my spine. I curled up on the bathroom floor, biting a towel to keep from screaming.

In those moments, I wanted him. I wanted Cole to hold my hand.

But I couldn't tell him. If he knew, the sacrifice meant nothing.

So I compromised. I called him. I just needed to hear his voice. His voice was my morphine.

"Cole?" I would whisper, sweat dripping off my forehead.

In the beginning, he would answer. "Lyra, I'm working. Can this wait?"

"I miss the boy who used to love me."

He would laugh, a tired, soft sound, and blow a kiss into the phone. "Miss you too, babe."

It helped. The pain receded just enough to breathe.

But then, the calls stopped going through. Voicemail. Voicemail. Busy signal. When he finally did pick up, his voice was ice.

"Lyra, stop. You are smothering me. I have important things to do."

My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. "Cole I'm sick."

I panicked. I didn't want him to worry, but I needed him to care. Just a little. "It's not bad. I took medicine. I just I really need you to talk to me. Just for a minute. Please."

I begged. I stripped away my pride and begged. I thought he would ask what was wrong.

Instead, he exploded. "You have to be sick now? Really?"

His voice was a lash. "If you took medicine, then go sleep it off. What am I supposed to do? I'm a CEO, Lyra, not a doctor."

Tears blurred my vision. "Cole, I just miss you."

Silence stretched on the line. Heavy. Suffocating. Then, a sigh.

"Drop the act, Lyra. You know it's Scarlett's birthday."

My blood ran cold.

"You pulled this 'I'm sick' stunt because you knew I was taking her to dinner. You're trying to guilt-trip me into coming home. We are just eating. Stop being crazy. You are literally exhausting to be around."

Click.

The dial tone hummed in my ear. My heart felt like it had been put through a meat grinder.

"Okay, Cole. I won't disturb you."

I whispered the words to an empty room.

After that, I stopped calling. I retreated to the basement. I poured every ounce of my remaining energy into my work.

I knew I was dying. I knew I wouldn't be around to look after him. And I didn't trust anyone else with his heart.

So I built her. The perfect companion. The android.

She had one purpose: To exist for Cole.

She was advanced. She was a masterpiece. But she had flaws. If Cole had looked at mereally looked at mehe would have seen the seams. He would have noticed the lack of warmth.

But he never looked. He was too busy looking at Scarlett.

Chapter 8

Three years ago.

Cole came home after putting Scarlett on a plane. He went straight to the guest room, locked the door, and cried.

It hit him then. Too late.

He realized that what he felt for Scarlett wasn't just friendship. It was the kind of love that burns cities down. But he was already married to me.

He wiped his face, masking the red rims of his eyes, and came out looking for me. "Lyra? Lyra, where are you?"

He hunted through the house, desperate for a distraction. He didn't know the truth. He didn't know that while he was at the airport kissing Scarlett goodbye, I had died alone in the master bedroom.

The woman standing in the hallway wasn't his wife. She was a replacement.

"I'm here, Cole."

He rushed over. He pulled "me" into a crushing hug. His body was shaking. "Lyra if I'm just saying if what if I had to leave you one day? What would you do?"

"I" answered instantly. "I would die."

Cole stiffened. He pulled back, his face twisting with sudden anger. "Stop it. You know my parents died from this genetic curse. You know how much I hate that word. Why would you use your life to threaten me?"

"It's not a threat, Cole. It's the truth."

"Enough!" He shoved "me" away. "I have nothing to say to you."

A cold war began.

Cole didn't come home for a week.

CORE filled in the blanks.

[TARGET LOCATION: THE ALPS. TARGET LOCATION: MALDIVES.]

He went to find Scarlett. They skied down snow-capped peaks. They went scuba diving in the tropics. They did every romantic thing a couple could do, all under the safe, plausible label of "friendship."

They didn't sleep together. But it didn't matter. Emotional cheating is still cheating.

CORE asked me again.

[DO. YOU. REGRET. IT?]

This time, I didn't answer. I just floated in the silence.

When Cole finally returned, he came clean. Or at least, he admitted to the trip.

He swore it was just a final farewell. He promised he wouldn't contact her again. He braced himself for the explosion. He expected me to scream, to throw vases, to demand a divorce.

"I" looked at him calmly. "I" tilted my head. "You must be tired from the flight, Cole. Do you want a massage?"

Cole blinked. The fear in his eyes turned to confusion. He looked like a man who had braced for a punch that never came. "Lyra aren't you mad?"

"No. I'm not mad."

Cole didn't feel relief. He felt dread. He thought it was the calm before the storm. But the storm never hit.

Days turned into weeks. No matter what he did, "I" remained gentle. Patient. Perfect.

A puppet without strings.

He started to hate it. He thought I was punishing him with indifference. He thought it was a mind game.

To break me, he escalated.

He brought women home. Blondes. Brunettes. Models. He paraded them past me, watching my face for a crack in the porcelain mask.

Nothing.

Zero reaction.

Countless nights, he pinned "me" against the wall, his hands wrapped around my throat, squeezing tight enough to bruise human skin.

"Why aren't you jealous?!" he would scream, his eyes wild. "Why don't you care anymore?! You used to hate this! You used to fight me tooth and nail! Who is this saint act for?!"

He wanted the old Lyra. The one who cried. The one who bled.

Then, Scarlett came back. And "I" jumped.

When he saw me fall, Cole felt a sick surge of victory. He thought, *Finally. She broke. She's still in there.*

He was ecstatic. He thought he had won the game.

He was wrong.

He was so incredibly wrong.

I can't even imagine what his face will look like when he finally understands the truth.

Chapter 9

Scarlett didn't bother lowering her voice anymore. The mask was off. She wanted blood.

"Just file the papers, Cole. Why are you keeping this dead weight around? You have a prenup. She walks away with nothing. Why suffer?"

They dissected my marriage right in front of me. I was just furniture.

Cole turned his head. He looked at me, really looked at me, for the first time in months. "Lyra. I want a divorce. Do you agree?"

I pinged CORE.

[OVERRIDE PROTOCOL: AGREE TO SEPARATION.]

Cole and Scarlett grew up together. They shared a past I could never touch. I was the intruder. I was the glitch in their perfect timeline.

I deserved this ending.

I decided to let them win.

"Yes."

Cole stared at "me" for a long time. The silence stretched, tight as a piano wire. Finally, he clapped his hands together once. Sharp. "Fine. Let's go to the lawyer's office. Now."

We walked out of the attorney's office into the blinding afternoon sun.

Cole was distracted. He was staring at the ground, lost in thought. Maybe he was regretting it. Maybe he was just planning dinner with Scarlett. He stepped off the curb.

He didn't hear the horn.

A delivery truck was barreling down the street, brakes screeching, tires smoking. It was too fast.

[THREAT DETECTED. IMPACT IMMINENT.]

My processor didn't hesitate. I didn't think. I reacted.

"I" slammed into Cole, shoving him with every ounce of hydraulic pressure in my chassis. He flew backward, landing hard on the safety of the sidewalk.

But physics demanded a trade.

The chrome grille of the truck slammed into "me."

*CRUNCH.*

I was launched. I flew thirty feet through the air before skidding across the asphalt like a discarded doll.

"Lyra!"

Cole's scream tore through the noise of the traffic. He scrambled up, ignoring the scrapes on his hands. He sprinted toward me. His face was a mask of pure terror.

He expected a horror show. He expected a pool of crimson. He expected mangled flesh and shattered bone.

He reached me. He froze.

The road wasn't red.

It was littered with silver shards. Gears. Springs. Blue optical cables.

Cole stood there, his brain unable to process the visual data. The grief on his face short-circuited. It was replaced by a blank, hollow confusion. "Lyra?"

He dropped to his knees. His hands hovered over my body, afraid to touch. "Why why aren't you bleeding?"

He stared at the exposed cavity in my chest. "What the hell are you