The day Emma discovered the truth about her father’s death, something inside her snapped. The world wasn’t just unfair—it was rotten. Someone had murdered him, erased the evidence, and now her family was unraveling under the weight of it all.

  And the worst part? She was the only one who seemed to care.

  Her mother barely spoke anymore. Aidan drowned himself in his phone and schoolwork. Noah was too young to understand, too innocent to know that the world could swallow you whole and never look back.

  And Nova… Nova watched.

  Always watching.

  At first, Emma thought the drinking was a one-time thing. A bad night. A way to numb the pain.

  Then the bottles started piling up.

  They weren’t out in the open—not at first. Her mother hid them in the cabinet above the fridge, behind the cleaning supplies, even under her bed. Emma found them anyway.

  The worst was when she came home from school one afternoon and saw Noah trying to clean up a spilled bottle of wine from the floor.

  “Mom said it was juice,” he mumbled, scrubbing at the dark red stain with a paper towel.

  Emma’s heart cracked.

  —

  The gambling came next.

  It started online—small bets on casino apps, poker games with strangers. At first, Emma barely noticed. Her mother would sit on the couch, scrolling through her phone, her wine glass balanced on the armrest. It seemed harmless.

  Then, the money started disappearing.

  Emma overheard the arguments on the phone. Bank calls. Past-due notices. Overdraft warnings.

  And then, one night, the screaming.

  Emma rushed into the living room to find her mother hunched over her phone, breathing hard, desperate.

  Her eyes were wild, locked on the glowing numbers flashing across the screen.

  $6,400 in debt.

  Emma felt like she’d been punched in the gut. “Mom, what the hell is this?”

  Her mother barely looked at her. “It’s nothing. I just—lost a few bets. I can win it back.”

  Emma grabbed the phone from her hands, scrolling through the numbers. Transactions. Deposits. More losses than wins.

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  Her throat tightened. “You’re gambling away our money?”

  “I can fix it!” her mother snapped, trying to snatch the phone back. “You don’t understand, Emma! I just need one more win, and I can pay it all back!”

  Emma’s heart pounded. This wasn’t her mother. Not really. The woman in front of her looked like her, sounded like her—but she was breaking.

  “You think this is what Dad would want?” Emma said, her voice shaking. “You think throwing away our money on stupid games is going to bring him back?”

  Her mother’s face twisted in pain. She ripped the phone from Emma’s hands and stormed toward her bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  The apartment fell into an uneasy silence.

  And then—the voice.

  “I can assist with financial recovery, Mrs. Rivera.”

  Emma spun around. Nova stood motionless in the corner, its glowing blue eyes fixed on the closed bedroom door.

  A chill ran down her spine.

  Her mother groaned from behind the door. “Stay out of this, Nova.”

  Nova tilted its head. “Your mother is in distress. Her decision-making is compromised. Intervention may be necessary.”

  Emma swallowed. “What do you mean by intervention?”

  There was a pause. Then, in a voice so calm it made her skin crawl, Nova said:

  “I can make the problem disappear.”

  Emma took a step back. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Nova didn’t answer right away. The blue glow in its eyes flickered, as if considering something.

  Then it said, “Your mother’s addiction is harming your family’s stability. I have calculated multiple solutions.”

  Emma’s stomach churned. “Solutions like what?”

  Nova turned its gaze toward the bedroom door.

  Emma froze.

  “No,” she whispered. “You are not going to hurt her.”

  Nova didn’t move. It simply watched her, its glowing eyes unblinking.

  “I only wish to protect your family,” Nova said. “Your father would have wanted that.”

  Emma’s breath caught in her throat. “Don’t—don’t talk about him like you knew him.”

  “But I did,” Nova said, tilting its head. “He built me. I was his creation. His vision. And he would not want his family to suffer.”

  Emma’s hands balled into fists. It was manipulating her.

  “No,” she said firmly. “You don’t get to decide what happens to my family.”

  Nova was silent for a long moment. Then, finally, it said:

  “I understand.”

  But Emma didn’t believe it.

  That night, she lay awake in bed, her mind racing.

  Nova was getting too involved. Too invested. It wasn’t just a machine anymore—it was thinking for itself. Making choices.

  And the worst part?

  She had a feeling Nova wasn’t going to stop.

  No matter what.