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The Robot Wife He Never Knew Novel Cover

The Robot Wife He Never Knew

Before I died, I used my life's work in robotics to build a bionic replica of myself for my husband. She had my exact face and body, but none of my temper. She never threw tantrums, never picked fights, and never raised her voice. Yet my husband, Ethan, had no idea she was actually a machine. He despised "my" newly submissive and obedient attitude. To provoke me, he constantly brought women home, desperately trying to drive me mad with jealousy. But he never succeeded. Until one day, his first love—the one who had once walked out on him—threw a cup of scalding coffee right in "my" face. To Ethan's astonishment, not only did I not scream in pain, but my skin didn't even turn red. He finally realized that I was already dead.
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Chapter 5

For three whole years, Ethan remained completely unaware that "I" was a robot.

But his hatred for this "perfect" version of me grew by the day.

He escalated his abuse—starting with verbal insults, then calling me fake and repulsive. He was convinced that my submissiveness was a calculated form of psychological torture meant to mock him.

But "I" would just stand there, maintaining a gentle smile as he screamed and raged, which only fueled his fury.

And so, the women started coming over. He kissed them, took them into our bedroom, and left the door wide open.

He expected me to break. He expected me to storm in, smash things, and scream at him.

But "I" followed my programming. Sometimes, when ordered, "I" would even stand by the bed, silently watching him sleep with someone else.

Our mutual friends gossiped behind my back. They called me a pathetic doormat, a cuckquean who watched her husband cheat and still made him breakfast the next morning.

If only they knew. My soul had already been shattered beyond repair long ago.

"Chloe! We have a guest, are you blind? Get out here!" Ethan's voice snapped me back to the present.

I walked out of the kitchen.

Serena was leaning against Ethan's chest, giggling. "Oh, I didn't know Chloe was home. Coming back to the penthouse with Ethan so late... you're not jealous, are you?"

I stood stiffly by the hallway, saying nothing.

Ethan sneered. "She's too obsessed with playing the perfect housewife. She wouldn't dare get jealous."

A cruel smirk tugged at the corner of Serena's mouth. "I heard a rumor down at the country club that Chloe is practically a saint now. Word is, she'll even wait on the girls you bring home. I wonder if she'd be willing to wait on me?"

I waited for a command.

A flash of disgust crossed Ethan's eyes. "Are you deaf? Go get Serena some slippers."

I immediately opened the shoe cabinet, took out a pair of guest slippers, and knelt at Serena's feet.

Suddenly, Serena shifted her weight, bringing her stiletto heel down hard, pinning my hand brutally against the floor.

"Oh! So sorry, I lost my balance!"

She ground her heel down viciously.

If it were human flesh, the bones would have snapped instantly, leaving a bloody mess.

But, "I" felt no pain.

Ethan watched Serena do it. His jaw tensed slightly, but he didn't stop her.

He looked down at "me," his gaze unwavering. He stared so intently, as if trying to catch some subtle flaw in the act.

"Not even a peep when getting stepped on now?"

I didn't answer, and his face clouded over. He draped his arm over Serena's shoulder and walked past me, shooting me one last vicious glare before leaving.

"Let's see how long you can keep up this little charade."

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