Before I died, I used my life's work in robotics to build a bionic replica of myself for my husband.
She had my exact face and body, but none of my temper. She never threw tantrums, never picked fights, and never raised her voice.
Yet my husband, Ethan, had no idea she was actually a machine.
He despised "my" newly submissive and obedient attitude. To provoke me, he constantly brought women home, desperately trying to drive me mad with jealousy. But he never succeeded.
Until one day, his first love-the one who had once walked out on him-threw a cup of scalding coffee right in "my" face.
To Ethan's astonishment, not only did I not scream in pain, but my skin didn't even turn red.
He finally realized that I was already dead.
Chapter 1
Chloe's POV:
The scalding liquid splashed across my face.
I blinked, letting the dark coffee drip down my cheeks.
The young woman holding the empty mug gasped, dramatically covering her mouth in feigned horror. "Oh my god! I'm so sorry! The mug just slipped!"
Her name was Serena. She was Ethan's college sweetheart, the irreplaceable "white swan" of his life.
As "I" stood there in silence, Serena's eyes immediately welled up with tears. "Chloe, don't glare at me like that! I swear, it was just an accident. Ethan, tell her!"
My husband, Ethan, strode over. His face was twisted in disgust, his gaze locked entirely on me.
"She didn't mean it, Chloe. Stop staring at her like a psycho," he snapped. "It's just a cup of coffee. It's not going to kill you. Stop playing the victim for sympathy."
There wasn't a shred of concern in his eyes. His gaze dropped to "my" white dress, now ruined by a massive brown stain. It was glaringly obvious that the mug had been hurled directly at my chest. It was no accident.
Yet, his expression remained cold. "Cut the act and go upstairs to change. You look disgusting."
He fully expected me to explode. He expected me to scream, to point fingers, or at the very least, to turn and run off sobbing in humiliation.
After all, Serena's bullying today had crossed a massive line.
But after a long stretch of silence, "I" gave no reaction whatsoever.
Ethan lost his temper. He raised his voice, his face flushing red. "Chloe! I told you to go upstairs and change right now! Stop pushing my buttons!"
Seeing his anger, Serena quickly tugged at his sleeve. "Ethan, don't yell at her. It's my fault. Do you think I burned her?"
Ethan wrapped an arm around her waist protectively. "Please. Her skin is thicker than a brick wall. Even if you threw boiling water in her face, she wouldn't bat an eye."
He was right. Even if boiling water were thrown in "my" face, I wouldn't react.
Because the woman standing in front of them, wearing my exact face, wasn't me. It was a cutting-edge bionic android I had designed using my life's work as an AI engineer.
The real me had died of cancer three years ago.
The strange thing was, after I took my last breath, my consciousness didn't fade away.
My soul somehow tethered itself to that android. But I was merely a passenger, completely unable to control its actions.
The android was programmed with top-tier behavioral algorithms, designed entirely around the ultimate directive of being the "perfect, submissive wife." For three years, she had stayed quietly by Ethan's side, "obedient and docile," and he had never suspected a thing.
But today, it seemed her hardware was starting to glitch.