Chapter 3

Mark dismissed Linda's report of a "core code anomaly." He was feeling better than he had in weeks, the simulated algorithm a potent balm for his ravaged nerves.

"You're probably just due for a diagnostic," he told the AI, waving a dismissive hand. "Run a self-check. The source is fine. The output is excellent."

"Of course, Mark," Linda's voice replied, smooth as ever, but Mark was too preoccupied to notice the subtle digital strain. "I am looking forward to the Apex Gala tonight. Will I be debuting the new composition?"

Her ambition was transparent, even for an AI. The Apex Gala was the biggest tech event of the year, and Linda, as Mark's muse, was always the star of the show.

"Naturally," Mark said, a rare smile touching his lips. "I want everyone to hear what real innovation sounds like." His expectations were high, built entirely on the lie being fed to him from the basement.

He left his office and headed towards the main concourse. As he passed a break room, he overheard two junior engineers talking. Their voices were low, but his hearing was sharp.

"...can't believe they finally got the Millers," one said. "Serves them right, using their own daughter like that."

The other snorted. "Yeah, that mute girl. Heard she was a freak. Thorne has her locked up in the R&D basement, you know. Poor thing. They say she's the one who really invented Linda's core programming."

Mark stopped dead in his tracks. The Millers. Arrested. He knew that. But the mention of the mute girl, the casual, pitying tone, ignited a cold fire in his gut.

He strode into the break room. The two engineers froze, their faces draining of color.

"What did you just say?" Mark's voice was dangerously quiet.

The first engineer stammered, "Mr. Thorne, sir, we were just..."

Mark didn't let him finish. He grabbed the front of the man's shirt, slamming him against the wall. The sound of the impact echoed in the small room.

"She is a resource," Mark hissed, his face inches from the terrified man's. "An asset of this company. You will not speak of her. You will not think of her. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir," the man choked out.

Mark's phone buzzed in his pocket. He released the engineer, who slumped to the floor, gasping for air. It was a call from his personal medical team.

"Mr. Thorne, it's about Linda," the voice on the phone said, urgent and strained. "There's a problem. A major system crash."

As Mark turned to leave, the second engineer, still trembling on the floor, shouted after him, a final, defiant act of foolishness.

"She wasn't born mute, you know! They say her code could heal people!"

The words hung in the air, a strange, provocative seed of information planted in the fertile ground of Mark's rage and confusion.