Chapter 3

Genesis's recovery van had barely pulled away with Lorian—God, that puppy-dog look as he climbed in—when my phone buzzed:

[Heard you've been quite attached to that pile of silicone? Try not to fall for me all over again staring at that face, darling.]

[Though I understand completely. It is my face, after all.]

I rolled my eyes and fired back:

[In your dreams, Wellington. You're not worth one of Lorian's toenails.]

His narcissistic text did give me an idea, though.

Since Lorian was getting factory-reset anyway, why not change his face too? Save myself from having Lysander's smug expression flash through my mind at critical moments in bed.

Total mood killer.

I pulled up Genesis's customer service portal and submitted a facial modification request.

The "typing..." indicator blinked endlessly without a single reply.

Half an hour later, Lysander showed up at my door radiating fury.

Before I could fully open it, he shouldered his way inside and—with disturbing familiarity—slipped into Lorian's house slippers.

I swear I hadn't provoked him recently.

Lysander fixed me with a death stare: "Who exactly were you planning to change that robot's face to? Which Hollywood heartthrob? Some club boy toy?"

He stepped closer, practically snarling: "Rachel, is your attention span actually shorter than a goldfish's?!"

I rubbed my still-aching lower back and crossed my arms with a cold laugh:

"How is this any of your business? You hated that I used your face. Now I'm changing it like you wanted, and you're losing it why?"

Lysander glared at me.

His usually impassive face was working hard before finally spitting out:

"Do you have any idea how technically complicated that is? Once activated, facial modeling locks permanently! Stop torturing my customer service team with impossible demands!"

I snorted.

Honestly, I felt a twinge of regret. I didn't actually hate the face—objectively, it was flawless bastard perfection.

The problem was, this past month Lorian and I had tried everything imaginable on that king-size bed.

Now, looking at the genuine article in his bespoke suit, all I could see was him red-eyed and breathless, begging.

Seriously disturbing.

But if it couldn't be changed, fine. We were divorced. The farther from him, the better.

Still, I wasn't letting him off easy:

"If you can't change it, just say so. Must be nice having so much free time that a service ticket brings the CEO to my door."

I glanced at his rigid suit. God, Lorian looked so much better without clothes.

Mid-thought, Lysander abruptly shifted:

"Rachel, are you... really that satisfied with that machine?"

"Absolutely. Miles better than certain people. Obedient, and knows exactly how to please me."

Lysander's jaw clenched, his blue eyes darkening: "You've never even tried the real me. How would you know I'm worse than that hunk of junk?"

Watching his jealous expression, I raised an eyebrow:

"Fine then. Let's run a test."

I sank into the velvet sofa, crossing my legs, beckoning him with a lazy finger.

I swear, I only meant to mess with him.

I swear that was my only intention.

But the next second—

Lysander walked straight over and in one fluid motion dropped to one knee before me.

The movement was so smooth it looked hardcoded into his system.

We both froze.

I stared at him in horror. He knelt there, his usually arrogant blue eyes filled with pure what-the-hell confusion.

Jesus Christ, had this man's brain just completely short-circuited?!

Several seconds passed before Lysander snapped back to reality.

His face flushed crimson as he sprang up like he'd been electrocuted, frantically brushing at his pants while jabbing a finger at the carpet:

"Goddammit, how is your ridiculous carpet a tripping hazard?! Just as unreasonable as you are!"

I'd been holding it in, but finally collapsed laughing.

When I could breathe again, I wiped my eyes: "Wellington, you must be spent if you can trip on flat ground and nail a perfect kneel."

Lysander's expression went nuclear.

Clearly desperate to cover the moment, he started scanning the room:

"Rachel, why does your place look like a frat house? Have you been sleeping in a dumpster?"

I took a deep breath, restraining the urge to dump my coffee in his face.

How could the exact same face be this insufferable in the original?

With Lorian just collected, the house was admittedly a mess. I expected Lysander to keep mocking.

Instead, muttering curses, he shrugged off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and actually started cleaning.

I watched his tall figure move between kitchen and living room, momentarily speechless.

This was surreal.

Three hours later, Lysander had not only cleaned my villa to perfection but emerged carrying beef Wellington—oh, the irony—and black truffle pasta.

I stared in disbelief at this Silicon Valley tyrant serving dinner.

Who the hell had wiped this control freak's hard drive and installed some stepford husband program?

Lysander removed his apron and settled beside me, thoughtfully sliding the plated beef and wine toward me.

Just as I picked up my fork—

Lysander suddenly leaned in.

He dipped his head slightly, blue eyes locked on mine. That normally ruthless face now displayed something disturbingly like... a large dog waiting for a treat.

I froze mid-air. What fresh hell was this?

We held that bizarre tableau.

Finally, I rolled my eyes and simply forked a piece of beef into my mouth.

Lysander's eyes went wide.

He stared at me incredulously, his expression cycling between awkwardness, irritation, and—Christ—hurt.

Please. What was he hurt about?!

This guy was acting seriously weird today.

I casually glanced his way, my gaze landing on the chair he occupied.

Instantly, my heart skipped a beat.

He was sitting in Lorian's exact spot. Down to the inch.

And every evening before dinner, to reinforce the android's emotional feedback module, I'd cup Lorian's face, kiss him, then stroke his hair while praising:

"Good boy, your dinner is the best."

The realization hit like ice water. I stared at Lysander, still stubbornly sulking beside me.

Wait.

When he leaned in just now... was he waiting for his "reward kiss"?!