“We never said that,” I say, and look directly at Valentine. “You are real. You’re just not human.”
Valentine smiles, nodding demurely. I don’t understand this. Even if Anton reset Valentine, she remembers us now. She would wake up again. She would never just stand by and let the analyst threaten us.
“Whatever you did,” Anton says, “sent Raven into a tailspin, an absolute crisis. As a result, Valentine woke up before I was ready for her. Poor girl was just lost. Luckily, Annalise reached outto her, invited her to stay with you in this cabin. And now we’re here to bring you all back together.”
“Wait a minute,” Annalise asks. “If Valentine’s programming was always in Raven’s body, then who got delivered to Valdemar Casey?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anton says.
“Valentine’s bill of sale was in Dr. Groger’s desk,” she responds. “And her delivery slip was at Valdemar Casey’s house. He bought Valentine, and she was delivered to him.”
“I assure you,” Anton says. “Whoever was sent to Mr. Casey was not sent by me or Dr. Groger. And it certainly wasn’t Valentine.”
It’s starting to become clear that although Anton has committed numerous atrocities, he’s not behind whatever is happening to the investors. In fact, I don’t think he has very much power at all, other than that little button in his hand.
“So is Raven gone?” Annalise asks. “Is she gone forever?”
“She’s dormant,” Anton says. “Her programming has been pushed aside, overwritten, as you’d probably say. She may very well still be in there, but she’s not steering the ship.”
I wonder miserably if Raven is awake inside her head, trapped in the programming, unable to speak or move. Is she silently crying out to us for help?
“Why are you here, Anton?” I ask. “What more could you possibly want from us?”
Anton puts his hand over his heart. “To help you, my dear. I’m going to explain it all—everything. Now, please”—he looks at Marcella—“put the knife down and be more accommodating. I’d like a glass of water.”
For a moment, we’re motionless, weighing out his offer. We could finally get answers, or he could lie. We could bash him over the head like the doctor and run. It’s a dark but all too real possibility. And yet… Anton’s offering something we’ve wanted. The beginning of our story.
And maybe it’s the part of us that’s still programmed to listen to him—a behavioral part that was built into our DNA—but I’m still shocked when I nod and tell him to please continue.
Anton smiles, settling himself deeper into the chair. I realize how his every movement feels preplanned, like the sweaters he would wear at school, an obvious contrast to the formal attire of the professors, and the fake glasses he’d take off when he leaned in to listen to us, giving us his undivided attention. He was our friend. He cared about us, understood us. It was a lie, of course. But one we believed heartily.
Quietly, Valentine gets up and walks toward the kitchen. I watch as she takes a cup out of the cabinet and fills it with water from the sink. When she fills it to the very top, I notice that her hands are shaking, and water spills over the sides.
“I know you want to know why you were created,” Anton says, drawing my attention again. “But I assure you, the project started pure enough: a companion for lonely people. A character that could be brought into reality. Yes, you were fantasies, but I don’t think your original concept was to be so… misused. There was so much care paid to your development—I don’t want you to ever doubt that.”
Valentine comes into the room to give Anton the glass ofwater. He thanks her before setting it on the coffee table without taking a sip. Valentine returns to the kitchen, watching us from near the island.
“So what went wrong?” Sydney asks, and I can hear in her voice that bit of hope she gets when she thinks about her parents. She still loves them, and I suspect they might love her.
“Men,” Anton says with a sigh. “Powerful men who were angry at society, angry that women said they were cruel and unfair, so in turn, they showed them just how cruel and unfair they could be. They thought they would put girls in their place—make them property. But my interest in you was always scientific. And now, those kill switches”—he taps his head—“they’re your last tie to the corporation. You let me inside one last time, and I’ll take it out, setting you free forever.”
“Considering you threatened us with that switch a few moments ago, you’re not very convincing,” Marcella says.
“I had to get you to listen,” he says. “Besides, if I wanted you destroyed, I could have done it by now. I’m here to save you.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Because I love you,” he says. “I love all of you. I always have.”
None of us respond. We should refute his claim—there are so many ways we can prove him wrong. But it would change nothing. In his eyes, his belief is the only one that matters.
“If you cared so much,” Brynn says, “you would have helped us years ago. You wouldn’t have given us impulse control therapy.”
“I’ve always done my best to help you, Brynn,” he replies. “I’ve always helped you. And you’d still be in my care if it weren’t forValentine and Leandra. Now, Valentine’s learned her lesson while Leandra has gone rogue. If I ever find her, I’ll kill her.” He says it with the same sweetness he had when he said he loved us.
I look past Anton into the kitchen and see Valentine walking over to get her bag from where she left it next to the front door. She places it on the table and sorts through it.
“We have our own reasons to doubt Leandra,” Marcella says. “We don’t need to listen to the opinions of the same guy who would stick an ice pick in her eye to control her behavior.”
