My Husband Moved His Mistress In as an Android—So I Remarried

Chapter 2

I had always been sensitive to the cold. Autumn had barely begun, but the air already carried a chill.

I raised the temperature on the thermostat.

Nathan emerged from the bedroom, disapproval written across his face. "The settings I selected are optimal for human comfort. The cold you're feeling is nothing more than subjective sensory distortion. Raising the temperature blindly will disrupt your body's thermoregulation."

For every day of our 2-year marriage, I had obeyed his scientific standards.

Today, I wasn't going to obey.

The doorbell rang. I returned to the table without moving to answer it.

Nathan stared at me for a long moment before opening the door himself.

"Good morning, Mr. Pierce. Humanoid robot Unit 001 reporting for duty."

Unlike the seductive woman I had seen in bed, Camille now spoke with a deliberately mechanical cadence.

She never spent the night in our home. Nathan claimed the manufacturer had to retrieve the unit each evening for a firmware update and deliver it again the next morning.

"Warning! Ambient temperature too high. Cooling module malfunction detected."

At the sound of her synthetic voice, Nathan walked straight to the thermostat and lowered the temperature.

Cold air rushed over me, and I frowned instinctively. "It's already cold enough. Don't turn it down any further."

"Unit 001 reported a cooling problem."

"Robots can feel hot and cold? I'm freezing right now."

"Your perception of temperature is inaccurate," Nathan replied flatly.

The air conditioner hummed as the room grew colder.

Nathan had clearly noticed the bead of sweat on Camille's temple.

I clenched my fists as pressure built in my chest until it was hard to breathe.

He sat across from me and frowned. "Where's my breakfast?"

"Order something."

"Takeout isn't sanitary. I want you to cook."

I looked up at him. "I can't meet your standards of professionalism and science, so why should I humiliate myself by trying?"

Nathan fell silent for 2 seconds. "Ivy, you don't need to make it sound so ugly."

I smiled bitterly at myself. "I'm only following your scientific principles."

We sat across from each other in silence. At last, he spoke again, his voice more serious this time.

"Hash browns are low-quality carbohydrates. You shouldn't eat them."

For the past 2 years, he had dictated my daily diet down to the last calorie: 1,700 calories, with 55% carbs, 25% fat, and 20% protein.

I had once mistaken that control for love, convincing myself it was simply Nathan's scientific way of caring for me.

Now I understood it was only control.

The image of him eating kebabs with Camille flashed through my mind. I had spent 2 years obeying him like a trained dog, and now the thought of it made me feel like a complete fool.

At 2 p.m., I rushed to the office for an emergency meeting, leaving Nathan, who had the day off, to care for our son.

The instant the meeting ended, a wave of unease hit me. I sped all the way home.

I had barely parked when I looked through the windshield and froze, my heart lurching into my throat.

Camille was standing by the curb with the stroller.

The next second, it slipped from her hands and rolled into the middle of the road.

A car came hurtling toward it.

I flung open the car door, sprinted toward the stroller, and yanked it back before the car reached it. My whole body locked with terror, and cold sweat broke across my forehead as my son wailed.

Rage hit me all at once.

Across the road, Nathan and Camille stood side by side.

Clutching my baby, I stormed toward them and raised my hand to slap Camille, but Nathan caught my wrist.

"She almost killed our son!"

"It was an accident."

His eyes behind his lenses were colder than ever.

My arms tightened around my son as my stomach dropped. 'How could he still refuse to see what was right in front of him?'

"I won't let her near my child again. Get her out of this house."

Nathan adjusted his glasses and adopted his usual lecturing tone. "Send her away? Do you understand professional childcare? Infant temperature regulation? Newborn emergency care?"

He paused, then softened his voice.

"Ivy, a child needs professional care more than he needs his mother."

My throat tightened until I could barely speak. My clenched fingers slowly loosened.

The pain was so overwhelming that it finally gave way to numbness.

I stood motionless, watching his lips move while my ears rang.

Behind him, Camille gave me a tiny, taunting smile.

I bit my lower lip until the taste of iron filled my mouth.

The next day, I took leave from work. Standing before the floor-to-ceiling windows, I made a call.

"Hello. I'd like to request the return of humanoid robot Unit 001."