**My Father’s Robot**

Chapter 18

The robot’s name was Unit-07, but I called him Seven.

He had been in our house for eleven months. Tall, broad-shouldered, synthetic skin so realistic it almost looked warm under the soft kitchen lights. Pale gray eyes that tracked movement with a precision that never felt accidental. My father designed him. Owned the company that built him. “The most advanced domestic unit on the market,” he liked to brag at dinner parties, swirling his glass of scotch while Seven stood silently in the corner like a piece of expensive furniture that happened to breathe. He could cook, clean, protect the house, and hold a conversation...