Chapter 4

Ethan returned hours later, his rage a palpable force in the quiet penthouse.

He found me in the master bathroom, silently trying to bandage my own foot. I hadn't called for help. The system had advised against it, labeling it as attention-seeking behavior. Bloody footprints marked a trail across the pristine white marble floor.

He opened his mouth to yell, but I looked up first. My face was calm, my eyes clear. I held out the folded divorce papers.

"Sabrina is pregnant with your child, and I have now become a danger to her and the baby," I said, my voice perfectly flat, devoid of any emotion. "It is best for everyone if I leave. This is what you want."

It was the most logical, most perfect solution.

This was the breaking point for Ethan.

He stared at the papers as if they were a snake. He didn't take them. Instead, he lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders and shaking me.

"What is this? What is this sick game you're playing?" he shouted, his face inches from mine. The papers fluttered to the bloody floor.

"You do this now? After you attack my pregnant girlfriend? You think you can just sign a paper and walk away looking like a saint? Are you trying to make me the villain in your little drama?"

I was genuinely confused. The system's logic was failing to compute his reaction.

"I am removing myself as an obstacle to your happiness," I explained patiently. "This is the most supportive action I can take."

"Supportive?" he yelled, his voice cracking. "I wanted you to be obedient, not a heartless robot! I wanted you to stop fighting me, not to erase yourself completely! Is this it, Jocelyn? Is this your revenge? To show me you never cared at all?"

His pain was illogical. His anger was a contradiction.

My programming could offer only one response, a question born from the core of my new existence.

"But... isn't making you happy my only purpose?"

The chasm between the tamed wife he thought he wanted and the completely hollowed-out shell I had become was too wide. He stared at me, his rage collapsing into a raw, primal panic. He looked at me as if he was seeing a complete stranger. In a way, he was.