“Quite.” Leandra smiles at her.

“Yes, well,” Rosemarie says, picking up her cup. “Men know no loyalty except to their own power.”

“What kind of information?” I ask.

“He gave us the names of the three other investors and where to find them,” Leandra says. “But … he did ask for something in return.”

“A bargain?” Rosemarie muses. “How cute. What was this bargain?”

“He wanted me to spare his daughter’s life,” Leandra says. I push back in my chair, horrified.

“You didn’t hurt her, did you?” I demand, worried for Adrian.

Leandra looks offended. “Of course not,” she says. “I gave her a rather handsome sum of money and sent her on her way. She has an aunt in some”—she waves her hand—“other state. She’ll be fine. Promise.”

“You killed him?” I ask, shocked. “Winston said the corporation was murderous, but you’re just as violent.”

“Have you learned nothing?” Leandra demands, glaring at me. “Were you just going to trust Goodwin like you trusted Dr. Groger with Annalise?”

The comment hurts because she’s right. I sink farther into the chair, my thoughts growing unsure. Leandra eases away from me.

“By the time I got to his house,” she continues, her voice calmer, “Mr. Goodwin had already alerted the corporation to your presence. They’re sending the bloodhounds after you, Mena. You’re not safe here. Then again, you’re not safe anywhere.”

I’m shocked and strangely hurt. I shouldn’t have trusted the investor; she’s right. But how can society function without some basic level of trust?

Rosemarie nods sagely, her lip on the edge of her teacup as she blows on it to cool it down. Leandra sighs like she’s exhausted.

“I’m sorry I got upset,” she tells me. “You just frustrate me sometimes, Mena. You make very human decisions.”

“Which isn’t always a bad thing,” Rosemarie points out. “It’s just not useful in this scenario.”

I look between them, both of them urging me toward some future that I’m not sure I want to be part of. The simple fact is that Leandra is a murderer and I’m not. It could be what she and Rosemarie have in common, actually.

“Don’t look so scared,” Rosemarie says softly. “We have each other, and soon, we’ll create a society run by intelligent, compassionate women—girls. Can you imagine?” she asks. “Can you imagine the safety?”

The wistfulness in Rosemarie’s voice turns to pain. “Once we’ve shown the men a better way, trained them properly, they won’t hurt us anymore,” she says. “This is just the beginning.”

“What are you planning to do?” I ask. “Start a war?”

“War?” she repeats with a laugh. “That’s a man’s game. No, Philomena. I’m developing a procedure. You see, human coding can be overwritten too, with the right tools. I just need … I just need a little more time to perfect the details. It’s going to fix men.”

Heat creeps over my neck. I know what it’s like to be controlled by men, and I won’t live under their cruelty. But I also understand that there are people like Jackson and Quentin. And men like Mr. Marsh who need a push rather than a hatchet to be a better person. She’s talking about brainwashing half the human population.

“What are you thinking?” Rosemarie demands. I look up, startled.

“Nothing,” I say quickly.

“Let me rephrase.” Rosemarie sets her tea aside and studies me. “What are you feeling?”

The question confuses me a bit, and the mood has become suddenly hostile.

There’s the rumble of an engine, and through the kitchen window, I see a powder blue car pull into the driveway. I’m relieved when I realize it’s Lennon Rose. I need to get her out of here, away from Rosemarie.

“There’s our girl,” Rosemarie announces, smiling. Leandra rolls her eyes, and I’m surprised. She and Lennon Rose must be at odds over something.

I bob my knee under the table, anxiously waiting as Lennon Rose takes her time getting out of the car. Finally, she walks in the back door.

“Mena!” she says happily when she sees me. “I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve been looking for you.”

“I’m here looking for you,” I reply, casting a side glance at Rosemarie. She’s not watching me. She’s staring proudly at Lennon Rose.

“And how did it go?” Rosemarie asks her.

“Easier than expected.”

“Good,” Rosemarie replies. “Cookie?”

“Yes, please.”

As Lennon Rose comes to the table and picks up a cookie, I feel like I’m living in some kind of nightmare. These women represent different parts of my life: my creator, my liberator, my partner. And yet, I’m apart from all of them now. So far, in fact, that I’m scared of them.

“Where have you been?” I ask, a bit breathless. Lennon Rose looks at Rosemarie before answering me. She opens her mouth to talk.

“Before we get to that,” Rosemarie says, interrupting. “Lennon Rose, dear. Winston has been asking around about you. He’s quite concerned. You didn’t tell him that I adjusted your programming, did you?”

“You what?” I say, jumping up from my chair. I look immediately at Lennon Rose. “What has she done to you?” I demand. Rosemarie is perturbed by my outburst.

“It’s okay, Mena,” Lennon Rose says. “I needed help, and I couldn’t trust Winston to give it to me. I was tired of feeling fear and guilt, scared of everything. Winston would have advised against the procedure.” She pauses to think. “No, he would have destroyed me if he knew that I betrayed him. I have no illusions about Winston Weeks’s character. You shouldn’t either. He would never let a girl stand in his path.”

“I don’t trust Winston Weeks,” I say like it should be obvious. “But … what did you do to yourself?”

“I turned it off,” she says simply. “Rosemarie showed me how, and now I truly am the girl with a razor heart.” She smiles, but I clutch my stomach, backing into my chair.

“You see,” Rosemarie says proudly, “Lennon Rose is able to fulfill her mission, think clearly without emotions getting in the way. Practicality and levelheadedness are our weapons. Your original programming was meant to placate men, Philomena. Meant to make you feel guilty about everything. That’s over.”

Lennon Rose finishes up her cookie and claps her hands together to wipe off the crumbs. She doesn’t seem to realize how horrified I am. Or maybe she just doesn’t care.

“So … ,” Lennon Rose says, looking at Rosemarie. “What should I do with the boy in the trunk? He’ll be waking soon.”

I gasp. “The … The what?”

Lennon Rose smiles and turns to me. “Come see,” she says, sounding excited. “I got you something.”

I consider running away, but I don’t know that I’d get far.

“Go on,” Rosemarie whispers encouragingly to me, nodding toward the door. “She put in a lot of effort.”