Chapter 3

The monitoring dashboard was covered in red flags.

I started pulling the device logs.

I didn't bring it up with Ethan again. Asking him just meant hearing "I'll deal with it."

I sat on the floor of the guest room and logged in with the engineering account I'd kept from installation.

Following the log trail, I opened Vivian's old data records.

There was no clinginess in them. No performing for anyone. Just late nights refining project proposals, and clear, level-voiced messages telling Ethan to stop interfering with her work.

She had been independent. Proud. And in death she had been trapped inside a system that called itself love. It was pathetic and it was cruel.

The system was recording me every single day.

The bedroom. The kitchen. The bathroom door. The fitting mirror. The entryway.

Every clip came tagged. Tone deviation. Intonation deviation. Emotional deviation.

I opened one. It was from six months ago, when I had the flu.

I remembered that night. Ethan had sat by the bed coaxing me to take my medicine. I had said his name.

"Ethan. I feel awful."

He had lifted me up and said, "I'm here."

I had always thought that moment belonged only to us.

But now the recording had been sliced into fragments. Beside each one was a tag.

Correctable material.

The handle turned.

Ethan stood in the doorway, eyes on my screen.

I asked, "When I was sick, why were you recording this?"

He came in.

"I just wanted to keep the moments when you needed me."

"Then why did you have to break my voice apart?"

He didn't answer.

He crouched down and reached for my hand.

I moved my hand away and kept scrolling. I opened the system photo album.

Every picture of me and Ethan was split into two versions. Original and Enhanced.

In the enhanced version, the corner of my mouth had been lifted. My hair color and eye makeup had been altered.

Below it read, "Similarity to Vivian increased by twelve percent."

I remembered this photo.

Ethan had looked at the enhanced version and said, "This is my favorite picture of you."

I turned the phone toward him.

"Was it me you loved, or the version of me edited into her?"

He gripped the phone. His knuckles went white.

"I didn't know the photos were being altered."

"There's a lot you don't know."

That afternoon, the bridal shop called about my fitting.

Ethan took my hand.

"I'll go with you."

At the shop, the stylist brought out a gown that wasn't the one I'd chosen.

I stopped in front of it. A high-necked dress.

"This isn't the one I picked."

The stylist glanced at her clipboard, then at Ethan.

"Mr. Caldwell confirmed this design last night. This cut suits a bride with short hair better."

The one with short hair wasn't me. It was Vivian.

I turned to Ethan.

"I didn't confirm anything. Maybe the account sent it automatically."

I didn't say anything. I walked closer to the gown, and realized the high neck would cover the mole on my collarbone.

Ethan's phone lit up on its own.

【Distinguishing feature suppression complete.】

I let out a bitter laugh, turned around, and went back to the fitting room to change into my own clothes.

Ethan followed me to the door.

"Since we're already here with this one, could you just keep it?"

I stopped.

"This is your choice. Not mine."

His lips moved. He tried again.

"That's not what I meant. I just don't want to make things complicated for the staff."

"Every time something happens, you're worried about inconveniencing other people. Somehow you're never worried about upsetting me."

He looked down.

He took off his coat and put it around my shoulders.

"I'll order a new one. Whatever style you want, I'll pick it with you."

I didn't push his coat off. I didn't look up either.

"Ethan. Which time you said you'd handle something did you actually handle it clean?"

His phone lit up again.

A notification.

【Complete Iris voice recheck tonight.】

I saw it. He saw it too.

He killed the screen.

I laughed once.

"See? It's more honest than you are."