I look at Mr. Goodwin, trying to figure it out. “What’s the debt?” I ask, leaning toward him.

“A … procedure,” he says. “A rare medical procedure.”

Adrian looks around at us, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“Stop lying for her benefit,” I tell Mr. Goodwin, motioning to his daughter. “Why are you really paying the analysts at Innovations Academy ungodly amounts of money? Money that you don’t have anymore?”

“Dad?” Adrian asks. “What are they talking about?”

And as I watch, this man seems to struggle with himself, blinking quickly as he decides whether to be honest. Then his face clears and he sighs deeply.

“It was a sound investment,” Mr. Goodwin says quietly. “The initial projections were nearly five times at payout. I was the first investor. I toured the corporation facility, and they introduced me to Claire—the prototype.” He meets my eyes. “I wanted her. I paid top dollar.”

Adrian looks around, even laughs like she’s missing some larger joke. “What are you talking about?” she asks.

“You could afford it,” Marcella points out to Mr. Goodwin. “I’ve seen your past financial disclosures. But then you began sinking more money into the academy. So much that you had to start borrowing. Why? Why push beyond your means?”

“Because she kept dying,” Mr. Goodwin says simply. “Claire was defective, and she kept dying. And then I would get her rebuilt, exactly the same. No modifications.”

“Why not get a new girl?” I ask.

“I would never!” He has the gall to sound offended. “I love her. My daughter loves her. And most importantly, Claire loves us. I couldn’t just … just get another girl. She’s ours.” He closes his eyes, calming himself.

“And that debt?” he continues. “Anton told me he wouldn’t rebuild her until I’ve paid off my balance. So I borrowed money. Then Claire broke down again. Faster this time. But Anton said he wouldn’t rebuild her unless … unless I found you.”

“Dad?” Adrian’s voice trembles. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“Claire is …” He furrows his brow. “Honey, Claire was created in a lab. She was here to take care of us, and then, to take care of you. She’s … She’s AI.” He shifts his eyes to us. “Just like they are.”

Adrian scoffs. “Is this some kind of practical joke?” she asks, although the hysteria in her voice tells me she knows it’s true on some level. A moment or two where Claire asked a strange question or blinked out of sync? Adrian’s seen something.

“Did you tell him?” Brynn asks Mr. Goodwin. When he looks at her, he softens slightly.

“Tell who, dear?”

“Anton,” she says. “Did you tell Anton where we were?”

“Not yet. But he knows you’re in this town,” he says.

“Is he alone?” Sydney asks. “Or did he bring a Guardian with him?”

“I believe he’s alone,” Mr. Goodwin answers.

The girls and I look at each other. We have to get out of here.

Mr. Goodwin smiles at Brynn. “You must be the caregiver,” he says, pointing at her. In quick succession, he points at Marcella, Sydney, and then me. “The educator, the companion, the rebel.”

“What are you talking about?” Marcella asks.

“Your models,” he says. “There are only six base programs. You’re missing the seductress and the doll.”

He sounds like he’s being helpful, but instead, Brynn’s eyes begin to fill with tears.

Program types.

Adrian watches Brynn’s reaction, and she jumps to her feet. “I can’t take this,” she says, beginning to pace the room. “If any of this is true, why?” She spins toward her dad, her expression a mix of anger and hurt. “Why would you pay to create AI girls? What the fuck, Dad!”

He swallows hard, lowering his eyes. “After your mother died, your real mother, I was lonely. I turned to money—making it, investing it.” He stops. “When I brought Claire home five years ago, you really took to her. And soon, I saw that you were great friends. That you loved each other. And then it was too late. I couldn’t bear you losing another person, so even after she and I couldn’t work—”

“Yeah, because you’re clearly a fucking psycho!” she shouts at him.

He flinches back but presses his lips together in understanding. “I knew you’d need her, Adrian,” he says. “That’s why I didn’t decommission her, even when it was clear that she was faulty.”

Adrian stares at him, her lip beginning to quiver. Quickly, she turns to me. Her eyes examine me, looking for some sign that I’m not human. But there’s nothing she can perceive. Her chest heaves with breaths, and she pulls off her glasses to wipe her eyes before replacing them.

“What did they do to you?” she asks me. “At the academy or whatever. What did they do to you there?”

And this is the hard part. We don’t have time to go into all the details, but there’s enough to tell her the basics of the abuse, the intentions, the aftermath. Adrian openly cries when I tell her about impulse control therapy, about the Guardian’s threats and physical violence. I tell her about Imogene, broken and bruised by a man who bought her as his wife.

“We feel,” I tell Adrian, putting my hand over my heart. “We feel all of it. We’re not just machines. We have hearts and organs and flesh. We love,” I whisper, looking sideways at the girls. Sydney’s eyes glisten as she smiles.

“But the corporation created us to replace the girls in society who they couldn’t control,” I say. “I don’t know their grand plan yet, and maybe your dad doesn’t either.” I turn to him. “But I have no idea how you can claim to love Claire and then pay money for the school to torture us. Did you have any idea what they were doing?”

“I …” He doesn’t want to answer honestly; I can see it in his eyes. “You are … machines.”

“But not Claire, right?” I ask. “She’s your machine, so she’s the only one you care about.”

He nods, and I realize that’s the way, the way of selfish people. They want to control everyone else, but when it’s them, they want their own rules.

I hear Marcella’s knuckles crack when she makes a fist.

“What about me?” Adrian asks her father. She hitches in a breath and turns to him. “Did you know what I was going through at Ridgeview?”

He seems shocked by the question. “What do you mean?”

“I suffered at that school,” she says. “The way some of the boys would harass me—are you okay with that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Adrian,” he says.

“Or you chose not to know,” she says. “For years, they’ve grabbed me, sexually harassed me, bullied me. All without consequence. And here you are, paying to make girls that they can abuse in the same way. Paying to create a society where it’s the norm.”

“You have to understand,” her father says. “This academy was a financial decision, and—”