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Whoever attacked me and Ezra wanted one or both of us dead, and that person is still on the loose. My residents are depending on me to keep the town running, and I’m all the way across the world being force-fed cereal by my lovely but overbearing mothers.

I don’t have the patience for a rich white man’s nonsense today, but the way Morsa’s looking at me, I’m worried I might have to suck it up and deal with it.

“He’d do anything for you. You know that, right?” Mom asks.

“It’s easy to do anything when anything means throwing money at something until you’re satisfied,” I reply, my lips forming a tight line. “I’ll give him ten minutes. Then I’m coming here to pack and getting on a flight home. I need to get back to my life.”

Then it becomes a staring contest between me and Mom. I’m just as stubborn as she is, and she can’t stand it. With Morsa, she’s used to getting her way. Morsa’s easy, she doesn’t get ruffled or hold grudges. But I already know Mom and I will remain in this standstill until one of us either caves or dies.

It feels like years pass before Mom throws in the towel, but it’s likely only a minute or two. “Fine.” And because she always needs to have the last word, she adds, “Now take a shower and go see your uncle.” In a quieter voice, I hear her mutter, “Coming into my house, stinking it up like a damn music festival,” as she walks away.

An hour later, I’m in the back of a giant black SUV, being driven to Henrik’s office by one of his personal security guards. The office buildings of his company’s campus are behind a giant security gate, making it feel like we’re entering the parking lot of the White House. I roll my eyes at the audacity of it all, because of course he thinks he’s this important. Of course he’s doing whatever he can to maintain a physical divide between himself and his neighbors.

The security guard escorts me through the lobby, into the elevator, and doesn’t leave my side until he knocks on a thick mahogany door and I hear Henrik call out, “Come in.”

“Hi, Uncle Henrik,” I say with my best attempt at a smile. “I heard you wanted to see me?”

“Emma, yes, yes, yes,” he says as he rounds his giant desk and approaches me with arms open. I suppose some would say he’s a good-looking man, in that Nordic type of way. But his demeanor and voice remind me of Christoph Waltz––an odd little man who walks like it’s a dance, with a charm and intellect you can’t decide whether you trust or fear. “It’s lovely to see you, and I’m so sorry to hear about your friend.”

I let him hug me, but I remain stiff and only reciprocate with a one-arm back pat.

“Ezra, also my Chief of Staff. Basically the other half of my mind. We haven’t spent more than two days apart in the thirty-five years we’ve known each other,” I correct, already annoyed he’s reduced their place in my life to simply a friend. “Thank you. They’re still in a coma. I’m hoping they wake up soon.”

“Ah, yes. It’s their job to keep you safe, though, correct? I hope you feel no guilt about their current state.”

My jaw ticks as I glance at the clock on the wall. I said I’d give him ten minutes. It’s been two. Only eight to go. “No, it’s not. They’re not my bodyguard. What they did to protect me was heroic and selfless, and frankly, I wish they hadn’t.” Not gonna lie, it’d be a hell of a lot easier to be the one in the coma right now.

“What a perfect segue,” he says cheerfully, hopping onto his desk and crossing his ankles. There’s no indication he even heard what I said. I’m assuming in all his conversations, when he’s not talking, there’s a voice in his head chanting, “My turn next. My turn next.” He presses a button on his modern desk phone and says, “Stellan, send Mikael in now.”

Mikael enters with his back toward us, using a dolly to haul a life-sized white pod into the room. He places it in front of Henrik’s desk and steps off to the side, saying nothing.

“Oh goodie!” Henrik says, rubbing his palms together. Hopping off the desk, he steps next to the pod, draping his arm over it. “Emma, your mothers and I are deeply concerned about your safety, but luckily, I have found an innovative solution to this messy predicament you’re in.”

Messy predicament? That’s how he chooses to describe it? Is punching illegal in Sweden? “You mean the one where someone tossed a bomb at me?”

He chuckles as if this is a joke we’re all in on. “Yes, that one.” He gestures at Mikael to step forward. “Okay, show her.”

Mikael presses a button on the side of the pod, and it opens with a hiss. Beneath a thick glass case is a…man?

“What am I looking at?” I ask, confused.

“You see,” Henrik begins, “years ago, I came up with the brilliant idea to design an artificially intelligent companion, of sorts. A being the size of a human who could cater to a person’s physical needs.”

Every word is spoken in a voice that drips with a sort of barely restrained male pride, making his “brilliant idea” as clear as ice. “You made a female sex robot for lonely dudes.”

He nods. “I did, yes, but not all ‘lonely dudes,’ as you call them, can afford my design, so I changed course and started making male versions too. You know, for the women.”

“Sure,” I say sarcastically, unable to hide my smirk at how ridiculous this all is.

He opens the glass case and pulls the giant sex toy out of the pod completely. “So we built the males and made them like this. You know, very strong, and I was having lunch with a friend of mine, a high-ranking general in the military, telling him I was concerned about sales with this creation of mine, and it hit me!” he says with a clap, his eyes wide with glee. “Why not take these robots and change their programming from lovers to fighters?”

Now he’s lost me. “Huh?”

Henrik rolls the robot on his little wheelie stand until it’s right in front of me. The thing is gigantic, probably six foot five without the stand, has white skin, brown floppy curtain hair that’s neatly parted, and a blue-and-silver suit that makes it look like a knockoff superhero. This thing was supposed to be a sex bot? I’m unimpressed.

“With a simple rewrite of its core directives, this robot is now a fearless defender of humans against any potential threat. You see? It’s perfect for you.”

I jerk back. “Wh––for me? No. I don’t need a robot to protect me. Thanks, but no thanks.”