Chapter 3 · My Girlfriend Was Worth 230 Million

The key was in the lock, but I couldn't make myself turn it.

I opened this door every day, but right now it felt like the entrance to hell. Behind it was what I used to think was my whole world. Now it might be a lie I never saw coming.

I took a deep breath. My chest hurt with how tight it felt. I pushed the door open, and the soft light in the entryway came on.

"You're back?"

Eva poked her head out of the kitchen, wearing the Winnie-the-Pooh apron I'd bought her. She had the same gentle smile as always, the kind that could melt anything. She jogged over and wrapped me in a tight hug.

Her body was warm and soft, carrying a faint scent of body wash. I hugged her back stiffly, but then my nose caught a trace of another smell, something that didn't belong here.

It vanished in a flash, but there was no way I'd mistaken it.

It was formaldehyde mixed with metal. The smell of the morgue, of cold instruments and colder bodies.

My heart sank on the spot.

"What's wrong? Rough day? You look awful." She cupped my face with concern, and the warmth of her fingertips felt so real it made me dizzy.

"N-no, I'm fine." I forced out a smile uglier than crying. "Something urgent came up at work. I... I need to go deal with some files in the room. I'll be right back."

My voice scraped out like sandpaper.

She didn't suspect a thing. She just kissed my forehead and said, "Okay. I'll start dinner. Go on, then hurry back."

Watching her head back into the kitchen, I felt my whole world cracking apart inch by inch. I rushed into her bedroom, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of my throat.

I searched like a madman.

Closet, drawers, vanity... everything was neat and tidy, full of the normal little traces of a girl's life. The perfume I'd given her. The books she liked. Photos of us together. Everything looked so normal that I started wondering if I really was losing my mind.

But that smell... that smell didn't lie.

My eyes finally dropped to the space under her bed. I got on my knees, almost flat on the floor, and reached underneath. Aside from a few storage boxes, all I could touch was the cold, smooth floor.

Wait.

At the seam of one floorboard, my fingertip felt the tiniest dip. I pressed down hard. With a quiet click, part of the floor popped up.

A hidden compartment.

My breathing stopped.

I lifted the floorboard away, and a stronger rush of cold chemical-and-metal scent hit me in the face. There was no diary inside. No hidden cash. None of the usual secrets a girl might keep.

There were only rows of neatly arranged glass tubes glowing with a ghostly blue light. Each one was filled with a thick liquid, something like highly concentrated nutrient solution. The labels were printed with molecular formulas I couldn't understand and long serial numbers.

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back.

My hand shook as it reached into the box, fumbling under those icy glass tubes.

My fingertips touched something even colder and harder.

I pulled it out.

It was a metal card about the size of a credit card, matte silver on the surface. No magnetic strip. No chip. Just one cold, emotionless line of laser-etched text.

"Unit G-7, Companion-Class Test Model. Wake-Up Countdown: 72 Hours."

Chapter 3

The key was in the lock, but I couldn't make myself turn it.

I opened this door every day, but right now it felt like the entrance to hell. Behind it was what I used to think was my whole world. Now it might be a lie I never saw coming.

I took a deep breath. My chest hurt with how tight it felt. I pushed the door open, and the soft light in the entryway came on.

"You're back?"

Her body was warm and soft, carrying a faint scent of body wash. I hugged her back stiffly, but then my nose caught a trace of another smell, something that didn't belong here.

It vanished in a flash, but there was no way I'd mistaken it.

It was formaldehyde mixed with metal. The smell of the morgue, of cold instruments and colder bodies.

My heart sank on the spot.

"What's wrong? Rough day? You look awful." She cupped my face with concern, and the warmth of her fingertips felt so real it made me dizzy.

"N-no, I'm fine." I forced out a smile uglier than crying. "Something urgent came up at work. I... I need to go deal with some files in the room. I'll be right back."

My voice scraped out like sandpaper.

She didn't suspect a thing. She just kissed my forehead and said, "Okay. I'll start dinner. Go on, then hurry back."

Watching her head back into the kitchen, I felt my whole world cracking apart inch by inch. I rushed into her bedroom, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of my throat.

I searched like a madman.

But that smell... that smell didn't lie.

My eyes finally dropped to the space under her bed. I got on my knees, almost flat on the floor, and reached underneath. Aside from a few storage boxes, all I could touch was the cold, smooth floor.

Wait.

At the seam of one floorboard, my fingertip felt the tiniest dip. I pressed down hard. With a quiet click, part of the floor popped up.

A hidden compartment.

My breathing stopped.

I lifted the floorboard away, and a stronger rush of cold chemical-and-metal scent hit me in the face. There was no diary inside. No hidden cash. None of the usual secrets a girl might keep.

Cold sweat instantly soaked my back.

My hand shook as it reached into the box, fumbling under those icy glass tubes.

My fingertips touched something even colder and harder.

I pulled it out.

It was a metal card about the size of a credit card, matte silver on the surface. No magnetic strip. No chip. Just one cold, emotionless line of laser-etched text.

"Unit G-7, Companion-Class Test Model. Wake-Up Countdown: 72 Hours."