My Husband Drugged Me for His Fake Robot Mistress

I spent three days planning the dinner. White tablecloth from the linen closet in the Hamptons house. Candles—the tall ivory ones, not the tea lights. Fresh peonies in the crystal vase his mother gave us on our first anniversary, back when she still pretended to like me. I wore the blue dress from our first date, the one I kept in the back of my closet wrapped in tissue paper like something holy.

Ten years. A decade of marriage. I wanted tonight to feel like proof that we'd made it.

I set the table at six. Eithan said he'd be home by seven. By eight, the candles had burned halfway down and the chicken was cold. I reheated it twice. At nine, I heard his key in the lock.

I stood up fast, smoothing my dress. "You're here," I said, and I hated how relieved I sounded.

Eithan walked in pulling something behind him. Not a suitcase. A pod. Glass and steel, about the size of a coffin, rolling smooth on hidden wheels. Inside was a woman. Dark hair. Perfect skin. Eyes closed like she was sleeping.

I stared.

"Mya," Eithan said, like he was introducing me to a colleague. "This is the GL-7 prototype. Humanoid AI companion. Fully interactive. She'll be living here for the next phase of field testing."

The thing inside the pod looked exactly like Sariyah Sanchez. The woman from his lab. The one in the photo on his phone he said was just a work friend.

I couldn't move. "That's… tonight is our anniversary."

"I know." He didn't look at the table. Didn't look at the dress. "This is a major breakthrough, Mya. She needs a residential environment for data collection. I'm setting her up in the master bedroom."

Something cold dropped through my chest. "Our bedroom?"

"It has the best light and the most space." He was already rolling the pod toward the stairs. "You can take the guest room. It's temporary."

"Eithan." I followed him into the hallway. My voice came out thin. "Can we just… can we talk about this?"

He stopped at the base of the stairs and turned. His face was the one he used in board meetings. Flat. Patient in a way that wasn't patient at all. "Your family's money made this work possible. You of all people should understand sacrifice."

I felt my throat close. "I do understand. I just thought—"

"Then don't make this harder than it needs to be."

He turned and pulled the pod upstairs. I heard the wheels bump against each step. Heard our bedroom door open and close.

I stood in the hallway for a long time. Then I walked back to the dining room. The candles were almost gone. The flowers were wilting in the heat. I sat down in my chair and looked at the empty place across from me.

I didn't eat.

Around midnight, I heard the storm start. Rain hammered the windows. Thunder rolled through the walls. I was still sitting at the table in the blue dress when I realized I couldn't breathe right. The air felt too thick. I needed to step outside. Just for a minute.

I grabbed my phone and opened the front door. The rain hit me immediately, cold and sharp. I stepped onto the stoop and the door swung shut behind me.

I heard the lock click.

I turned fast and pushed the handle. It didn't move. I knocked. "Eithan?" My voice barely made it over the rain. I knocked harder. "Eithan, I'm locked out!"

Nothing.

I pulled out my phone and called him. It rang and rang and went to voicemail. I called again. Voicemail. I texted: *I'm outside. The door locked. Please.*

The rain soaked through my dress in seconds. I banged on the door with both fists. "Eithan! Please!"

The lights were on upstairs. I could see them through the window. Our bedroom window.

I kept knocking until my knuckles split and bled. Kept calling until my phone battery died. The rain turned everything cold and numb. My legs gave out and I sank down against the door, shaking so hard my teeth clattered.

I don't know when I stopped shivering. I don't remember closing my eyes.

I woke up to Mr. Freeman's voice. "Mrs. Scott. Mrs. Scott, can you hear me?"

I opened my eyes. Gray morning light. Freeman's face above me, creased with something close to horror. He had his phone out. He was calling someone. An ambulance.

"I'm okay," I tried to say, but my lips wouldn't shape the words right.

Freeman took off his coat and wrapped it around me. "Don't move," he said quietly. "Help is coming."

I looked up at the townhouse door. It was still closed. Eithan hadn't opened it.

He'd left me outside all night.