Chapter 11
782words
"Just your fingerprint here, son. Don't worry about dying—we've planned for that.
We'll tell everyone you killed yourself out of remorse!"
"Nathaniel!"
I lunged forward only to be yanked back by Victor's grip on my hair.
"Why so concerned? Don't tell me you and my brother had something going on the side?"
"Him? That person on the ground is...?"
While Victor was momentarily confused, I twisted free and kicked him viciously.
"Who's the fool now? That's an AI bionic replica!
Victor, I've turned your own trick against you."
Police officers swarmed in from all entrances, weapons drawn.
As they were being handcuffed, I couldn't resist one final twist of the knife.
"By the way, we've been livestreaming since you arrived. Your confession and murder attempt just went viral."
I plucked a hidden camera from its concealment, waving it cheerfully.
The elder Sinclairs collapsed into incoherent rage, screaming threats as they were dragged away.
Victor stared at me in disbelief, his perfect world crumbling as he called my name repeatedly.
"Iris, you loved me once! Help me—please help me!"
"We're married! You're my wife!"
My expression hardened as I approached and delivered one final kick.
Nathaniel appeared beside me, adding the final twist.
"The marriage certificate is fake. Miss Blackwood isn't your wife—but your actual fiancée is very real."
On cue, a disheveled woman broke through the police line and threw herself at Victor.
How had things spiraled to this point?
I glanced questioningly at Nathaniel, who merely shrugged as he watched the hysterical woman clinging to Victor.
"I'm not entirely sure of their history, but my dear brother certainly knows."
I could piece together the story—another victim manipulated and discarded when no longer useful.
"What about the marriage certificate?"
I whispered, watching the woman's desperate grip on Victor.
Nathaniel spread his hands with a theatrical cough.
"Ours was a convincing forgery. The person who actually filed legal paperwork and married my brother is that unfortunate woman."
As he finished speaking, a piercing scream cut through the chaos.
We turned to see Victor struggling against his "wife" as they tumbled down the concrete loading ramp.
"Victor! You promised we'd be together forever! If I can't have you, no one will!"
They slammed into a concrete barrier with sickening force.
Blood pooled beneath them as officers rushed to intervene.
"My son! Someone save my son!"
The elder Sinclairs' anguished cries echoed eerily similar to where this all began.
This time, however, Victor's injuries appeared catastrophic.
The elder Sinclairs were eventually convicted of numerous financial crimes. Ironically, their efforts to exclude Nathaniel from their illegal operations left him the only Sinclair untouched by scandal.
Victor survived, but only technically—a true vegetative patient this time.
He occupied the same hospital, same ward, same bed as his android double once had.
Occasionally, I visit my former "lover" to provide "comfort."
I detail the Sinclair empire's collapse, how their name has become synonymous with fraud, how former friends mock them at every opportunity.
I describe how his obsessed lover survived with only minor injuries, now institutionalized and writing him daily letters that pile up unread.
When his heart monitor spikes during these stories, I make sure to repeat the most distressing details.
"Back again, Miss Blackwood? You're too generous with your time for this scumbag.
Some distant relatives are here again—probably hoping he'll die and leave them something."
The nurse gestured toward a group of shabbily dressed visitors arguing with hospital administration.
I turned to leave, having no desire to interact with Victor's adoptive family, but paused to address the nurse.
"I won't be returning. Please give them the outstanding bills.
If they can't pay, standard hospital policy should apply."
A familiar chorus of complaints and curses followed me down the hallway.
I wondered if, somewhere in his damaged brain, Victor could appreciate the irony.
My phone rang—Nathaniel Sinclair.
"I've been thinking—we make an effective team. You provide the technological expertise, I'll handle investment and operations?"
Considering my now-defunct engineering career, I agreed without hesitation.
Within a year, Nathaniel and I had established a thriving technology company with multiple divisions.
Our flagship division creates therapeutic AI companions for grief management—helping those who've lost loved ones process their pain, accept reality, and rediscover purpose.
This, I believe, is the true purpose of AI bionic technology—not deception or manipulation as Victor intended, but healing and genuine human connection.
We maintain strict ethical guidelines, emphasizing that our creations complement human relationships rather than replace them—a lesson learned from bitter experience.
Our other divisions flourished equally well. Within five years, our market capitalization exceeded the former Sinclair Group at its peak—built on innovation rather than exploitation.
