Chapter 4

Back in the day, Rachel and I never got along. And every time we butted heads, Edward would just take her side. He never bothered to ask what was going on.

Back then, it used to hurt like hell. But now? Honestly, I couldn't care less.

At dinner that night, Rachel let out a little cough.

Edward immediately snapped at me, "What are you standing there for? Go get her some water!"

I turned and went to the kitchen to pour her a glass of warm water. But Rachel complained, "This is way too cold. I want it hot, like, burning hot. Got it?"

So I went back and brought her a fresh glass, straight from the kettle.

There was a cunning sparkle in Rachel's eyes as she took the cup. She "accidentally" let go, and the boiling water splashed all over the back of my hand.

That was lame, seriously. I was a robot. Water and heat didn't bother me one bit.

But Edward's got no clue. In his eyes, I was just a normal, living, breathing woman. No way a real person could take that kind of heat.

"Rachel, are you alright?" Edward asked, his voice full of concern.

As always, his concern was only for Rachel.

"I'm fine, Edward. Claire probably just slipped up. Don't blame her," Rachel said.

Only then did Edward bother to glance my way.

"Seriously, what are you even good for? You can't do anything right. Can't even pour a glass of water without messing it up," he snapped.

I didn't even have the right to sit at the table. I just stood off to the side, meek and silent, taking his scolding.

Wasn't it laughable? I was supposed to be the lady of this house, yet I was stuck waiting on him and his lover like some maid.

Because that was what he ordered.

His orders were hardwired as my highest priority.

I knew Rachel wasn't like any of the other women Edward ever dragged home. She was in a league of her own, which was his absolute favorite, no doubt about it.

So even if I called her out for shoving me off the balcony, Edward would just laugh it off. He'd never believe me, not when it came to Rachel.

I hobbled back into the house, still reaching up to rub the back of my head every so often.

Edward scrunched up his brows and called out, "Claire, did you really get hurt or what?"

I stopped and shook my head at him.

Back when I was alive, I always kept my illnesses and injuries to myself, never letting Edward see I was hurting. Naturally, I programmed the robot to do the same.

Edward went quiet, thinking back to how I'd landed, right on the back of my head.

He sighed, like he was reluctantly giving in, then walked over, and grabbed my arm, pulling me closer.

"Let me see. You didn't crack your head open or anything, did you?" he muttered.

Edward reached out and parted my hair, checking the back of my head.

He felt a slight dent there.

But there was no blood.

Not a drop.

I'd fallen from the third floor, smashed into the ground so hard that my head was dented in, and still, not a trace of blood.

Edward's gaze flickered with confusion and fear, panic creeping into his eyes.

He kept staring for ages, then finally curled his lips into a mocking smile, and let out a cold laugh.

He probably just assumed I'd set up some kind of protection for myself.

"Claire, if you're going to play the victim, at least try to make it believable," he sneered.

"Jumping off the balcony and faking an injury? So now you're pulling these tricks just to get my attention? That's pathetic," he said.

He was laying on the sarcasm thick.

Or maybe there was something else in his voice.

Back in my room, the bionic version of me lay down on the bed.

Robots didn't need sleep anyway. I was just in rest mode, letting my system quietly patch itself up.

I never thought Edward would actually come by.

He stood at the edge of the bed, looming over me, his eyes hard to read.

"Next time, come up with a better trick. You know I can't stand people trying to guilt-trip me with their lives," Edward said.

"I didn't," I said.

My voice system had rebooted. There wasn't the slightest hint that anything was wrong.

"Even now, after everything, are you still pretending?" Edward kept his expression icy.

"You could never stand seeing me with Rachel. Every time you two were in the same room, it was a fight waiting to happen. I knew you were jealous, so I told you to stop getting worked up over her," he said.

"Are you really still holding onto this grudge after all this time?"

I just didn't get it. What did Edward even want from me? Was there anything I could do that would actually make him happy?

When I was alive, I'd act up and get jealous every time he got too close to another woman. He hated me for being real and emotional.

Now I was just a robot, doing whatever he said, never making a fuss, and he still couldn't stand me.

Maybe it was not about what I do. Maybe Edward just hated me, no matter what shape I took.

I sat on the bed, my eyes full of confusion as I looked at Edward.

Edward looked cold and distant as he climbed onto the bed, straddling me without a word.

Edward asked, "Claire, do you still love me?"

Wasn't that the question I should be asking you?

But I still replied, "I'll always love you, Edward."

Edward's expression softened a little as he leaned in, pressing his ear to my chest. He could hear the heartbeat I was programmed to mimic, and... was that a faint electric hum?

"Where's that electric sound coming from?"

Edward looked around the room, a bit suspicious, but quickly brushed it off. "If you say you love me, then show me."

He reached out, his hands moving to undo my clothes.

Three years. This was the first time Edward had ever made a move on me as my husband.