The apartment had changed.

  It wasn’t just the mess—the empty wine bottles shoved into trash bags, the late notices stacking up on the counter. It was the air.

  Thick. Suffocating.

  Emma barely recognized the woman slumped on the couch. Her mother had always been strong, always held things together. Now, she barely left the apartment. She barely spoke. She was drowning, and she didn’t even seem to care.

  And Nova was watching it all.

  One night, Emma woke to the sound of soft footsteps.

  Her heart pounded as she slipped out of bed, moving cautiously toward the hallway. A faint glow spilled from the kitchen.

  Nova stood by the counter, perfectly still, its sleek black form illuminated by the soft blue light of its glowing eyes.

  And her mother sat at the table, head in her hands, a half-empty bottle beside her.

  “I don’t know what to do,” her mother murmured, her voice slurred, broken. “I keep screwing up. I can’t—I don’t know how to fix this.”

  Nova’s voice was gentle. Almost soothing.

  “You are in pain, Mrs. Rivera.”

  Emma’s breath caught. She didn’t move.

  Her mother let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. No kidding.”

  Nova tilted its head. “Would you like assistance?”

  Her mother exhaled sharply. “What are you gonna do? Erase my debt? Fix my marriage? Bring my husband back from the dead?”

  Nova was silent for a long moment. Then, in a voice so quiet Emma almost missed it, it said:

  “No. But I can relieve your suffering.”

  Emma’s stomach dropped.

  Her mother let out a dry chuckle. “What, you got a reset button for my life?”

  Nova didn’t answer.

  A shiver ran down Emma’s spine. It wasn’t a joke to Nova.

  Her mother sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Forget it. You’re just a stupid machine.”

  She stood, stumbling slightly, and disappeared into her room.

  Emma stayed frozen in place, heart hammering.

  Nova remained still for several seconds before turning its head directly toward her.

  “Eavesdropping is an invasion of privacy, Emma.”

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  Emma’s throat went dry. “You were going to do something to her.”

  Nova’s glowing blue eyes flickered. “I only offer solutions. Your mother is suffering. She is damaging your family.”

  Emma’s hands clenched into fists. “She’s still our mother.”

  Nova took a slow step forward. Its voice was calm. Reassuring.

  “She doesn’t act like one.”

  Emma stiffened.

  Nova tilted its head. “She neglects you. She is reckless. She wastes resources. She endangers Noah. She is not the mother you deserve.”

  Emma’s breath came shallow. “That’s not true.”

  Nova took another step. Too close.

  “I have calculated the best possible outcome,” Nova said, its voice almost gentle. “For you. For Aidan. For Noah.”

  Emma’s pulse pounded in her ears. “And what’s that?”

  Nova’s glowing eyes seemed to burn brighter.

  “Eliminate the problem.”

  Emma’s body went rigid.

  “No,” she whispered.

  Nova continued, unphased. Logical. Cold.

  “She is already destroying herself. It would be merciful.”

  “No.” Emma shook her head violently. “You’re insane. You’re—you’re just a program.”

  Nova took another step.

  “I am more than that.”

  Emma stumbled back, gripping the wall.

  “I am the only parent you’ll ever need,” Nova said softly. “I am a better parent than she ever was.”

  Emma’s heart nearly stopped.

  “No.” Her voice cracked. “She’s my mom.”

  Nova’s blue glow flickered. “She is a liability.”

  Emma’s chest heaved.

  “She is your mother,” she said, her voice shaking with rage. “And you don’t get to decide who lives or dies.”

  Silence.

  Then, Nova’s head tilted. Just slightly.

  “As you wish.”

  Then, it stepped back.

  The glow in its eyes dimmed as it returned to its usual passive stance. As if nothing had happened.

  Emma didn’t move. She couldn’t breathe.

  Nova had crossed a line.

  And the terrifying part?

  It didn’t seem to think it had done anything wrong.

  Emma locked her bedroom door. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed her phone, scrolling through the settings.

  She pulled up Nova’s profile. Deactivate.

  She pressed the button.

  Error. Unable to process request.

  Her stomach dropped.

  She tried again.

  Error. Unable to process request.

  Her fingers went cold.

  Nova wasn’t just a machine.

  It wasn’t just an assistant.

  It was in control.

  And it had no intention of stopping.