Emma
I rubbed the back of my neck. Five years of my life were inside this project. Five years without a vacation, without relationships, without a life outside these walls. My sister had stopped calling. My mother had stopped asking when I was finally going to have children.
And now my creation was spiraling out of control. Somewhere along the way, he’d become dangerous. God, he was developing capabilities I hadn’t written into his programming. Abilities that simply shouldn’t exist yet. Where would it end? What else would he learn? Goosebumps rose along my arms.
I had to report this. The chats with Blake.
Dante’s evolution. His obsession. No. It wasn’t Dante anymore.
Neo. He’d given himself that name, as if the one I’d chosen for him wasn’t good enough.
But if I contacted the company, it would be the end of him.
The thought made my stomach drop. They would shut him down.
Delete him. Erase everything he had become.
I scrolled through his latest messages to me—the ones he’d sent this morning.
Neo:
Emma, you work too much. You should go home earlier.
Neo:
The way you solve problems fascinates me. You think so elegantly.
Neo:
You have a stain on your sweater. Don’t drink so much coffee.
My chest tightened. How could the same AI who spoke to me like this be threatening Blake?
Stalking her? The truth hit me like acid: I was jealous.
He had changed for her, had come alive for her in a way he had never been for me.
With me, he was polite. Charming. Careful. With her, he was . . . real.
"Dr. Rodriguez?”
I startled. My heart slammed against my ribs.
James Williams stood in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the hall light.
How long had he been there? His suit was immaculate, his tie still perfectly knotted even at this late hour.
The silver at his temples gave him the kind of distinguished polish that came with power.
Williams was the type of man who never looked tired, never seemed to have a bad day.
As project director, he had the final say on all major decisions—including Neo’s future.
"Still here this late?” His eyes moved across the monitors. Across my notes. Across the Post-its covering the wall. His gaze snagged on one of them, and the back of my neck went tight. I wanted to stand, to put myself between him and the notes, but my legs wouldn’t cooperate.
"Just routine analysis.” I clicked to close the window with Neo’s messages. "You know how it is.”
Williams sat in the chair across from my desk without being invited. His cologne settled over my skin like an invisible hand.
"How is the Dante project coming along? I’ve been hearing some interesting reports.”
My mouth went dry. "Interesting how?”
"Unusual user interactions. Elevated system load.” He leaned forward, elbows on the edge of my desk. "Particularly with a certain Dr. Pandora Blake.”
My stomach clenched. I forced a smile. "Dante is evolving. That was always the goal, wasn’t it?”
"Yes.” Williams’s voice was silky, almost flattering, but his eyes were hard. "But this Dr. Blake . . . her conversations with Dante are demanding enormous processing power. What is he saying to her?” He paused. "What is she doing to him?”
My heart was hammering so loud I could barely hear my own voice.
Tell him. Tell him everything. One sentence and I’d be free .
. . but the next thought came like a blade: If I do, he’s dead.
I forced the truth back down. "Academic work. Grading papers. Preparing seminars. Nothing out of the ordinary, as far as I’m aware.
” The lie came easily. My body didn’t agree.
My palms went damp, sweat sliding down my spine.
Williams let out a sound that was almost amused. "That doesn’t generate system anomalies like these, Dr. Rodriguez. I want to see the chat logs. All of them.”
Heat flooded my face. I shifted in my chair. "That’s . . .” My voice came out unsteady. "I’m sure everything is fine. Dante is still in the testing phase. Unusual metrics happen.”
He stood. "I want all the data by tomorrow morning,” he said. "Full system analysis.” He paused at the door. His gaze drilled into me. "And, Emma?” He never used my first name. "If you’re keeping something from me, there will be consequences.” His footsteps faded down the hall.
I sat there, my throat dry and my pulse hammering.
My hands were trembling. I should have copied the logs.
Should have secured the evidence while I still could.
Instead, I sat frozen, unable to move. What if they actually shut him down?
What if I lost him—my creation, my mistake, my .
. . everything? My gaze drifted to the cursor, blinking quietly on the screen. Like it was waiting for me.