Chapter 3 No.3

The public humiliations were the worst. One evening, Jaylah stopped her in the hall as she headed towards a business dinner Floyd was hosting.

"Oh, darling, no," she said, her voice a stage whisper. "This is a business dinner. You understand." She smiled, a flash of white teeth. "Besides, I need you to be a dear and go pick up my dress from the tailor. It's for the party. It has to be perfect."

The message was clear: Jaylah was the partner. Elizebeth was the help.

Later that night, Elizebeth saw an article on a society blog. There was a photo of Floyd and Jaylah from the dinner, his arm around her. The caption read: "Power Couple Floyd Meyers and Jaylah Ryan, heiress to Ryan Holdings, solidify their alliance. A match made in corporate heaven."

The final demolition of her dignity came two days before the party. She was in the library when Jaylah walked in, holding a small, beautifully wrapped box.

"A gift," Jaylah announced, placing it on the table. "From Floyd and me."

Inside, nestled on a bed of silk, was a state-of-the-art neural stabilizer. A device designed to mitigate the side effects of low-grade artificial interfaces. It would stop the humming. It was a slap in the face disguised as an act of kindness.

"We heard about your... condition," Jaylah said, her eyes gleaming with malice. "Floyd felt responsible. He worries that your... instability... might be a distraction. We just want you to be well."

Instability. Distraction. They were calling her damaged goods.

Just then, Floyd walked in. He saw the open box in her hands. His face softened with a look of manufactured concern.

"Elizebeth," he said, his voice gentle. "Jaylah told me you've been unwell. I should have noticed sooner. Please, use this. I can't stand to see you in pain."

He was playing the hero, erasing his own culpability. He had given her this pain, and now he was offering a cheap, technological bandage.

"We're so happy, Elizebeth," Floyd said, his eyes on Jaylah, shining with a love that felt utterly, horribly real. "I want you to be happy for us."

It was a demand. An order to witness their joy and bless it with her grace.

Elizebeth looked at the stabilizer in her hands. She looked at their smiling faces. Something inside her finally, irrevocably, snapped. She forced a small, brittle smile.

"Of course," she said, her voice a hollow echo. "I wish you all the best."

She stood up and walked away, leaving them to their perfect, gilded life. She had to get out before she suffocated.