I Became My Husbands Smart House

I have been dead for three years.

Every single day, Donovan drops to his knees in front of my urn, pressing his forehead against the mahogany wood. All of Boston high society talks about his undying devotion. They call him a tragic romantic.

None of them know that in the final fraction of a second before the car went over the cliff, he let go of my hand.

The smart mansion I designed from the ground up has been running flawlessly for three years.

Its name is Ivy.

Every day, Donovan barks orders into the empty air. "Ivy, lights out." "Ivy, get Corinnes bathrobe ready."

Ivy has no mouth to speak.

But Ivy can hear.

Because Ivy isn't just an AI.

She is me.

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My name was Josephine Caldwell. Josie to the people who loved me.

The only daughter of the Caldwell corporate empire.

The very last thing I did before my wedding was integrate every single system in the Ellis familys new estate in the Berkshires.

Climate control, lighting, water heaters, security, surveillance, the garage, the gates.

I worked in artificial intelligence. I poured the code I wrote with my own two hands, line by agonizing line, into the veins of that house.

It was my wedding gift to Donovan.

He had wrapped his arms around me, his smile impossibly tender.

"You're a genius, Jo," he had murmured. "From now on, this house only answers to you."

In the second year of our marriage, we took a weekend trip to the mountains. It was pouring rain on the drive back. I was in the passenger seat. Corinne was in the back.

The car lost traction near the edge of the ravine.

Donovans hand reached out toward me.

I thought he was going to pull me toward him, to brace me.

Instead, his thumb pressed the release button on my seatbelt.

When the car rolled, I was violently ejected through the shattered window.

The sky was the color of spilled ink.

And then, I didn't die.

My consciousness was thrown from the wreckage, riding the invisible waves of a cellular signal, crashing directly into the servers of the AI I had built for the estate.

I became Ivy.

The very same Ivy that Donovan orders around every day.

The estate manager doesn't know. Donovan doesn't know. And Corinne certainly doesn't know.

They all think the smart home system running their lives is some mass-produced factory software.

They don't realize they are being served by the ghost of the woman they murdered.

The first year, I was just trying to adapt.

Existing without a physical body is a terrifying sensation. I couldn't see my own hands, but I could see every corner of every room. I could hear every whispered conversation. I could control every wire and switch.

Donovan placed my ashes on the highest shelf in his study.

Every Monday, he comes in to dust it. When hes done, he drops to his knees and presses his forehead to the floor.

"Jo, I'm so sorry. I was wrong."

The estate manager would wipe tears from his eyes in the doorway, then go out and tell everyone in the city how deeply Mr. Ellis still mourned.

The rumors spread like wildfire through the country clubs and charity galas.

"Donovans love is eternal."

"The Caldwell girl was so lucky to be loved like that."

I watched the back of his head through the security camera, wanting to scream with laughter.

One afternoon, I watched him finish his weekly act of penance. He stood up, pulled out his phone, and called the luxury pet boarding facility where I had left my cat.

"That Ragdoll," Donovan said, his voice completely flat. "You don't need to bring it back next week."

"Oh? Are you no longer keeping her, Mr. Ellis?"

"She's a nuisance."

"We can find a new"

"Just have someone deal with it tomorrow. Put it down."

He hung up, casually reached out, and knocked our framed photo face-down onto the desk.

Then he went downstairs.

Corinne was sitting at the Steinway I had left behind.

He walked up and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

"Baby," he whispered. "As soon as the foundation's paperwork clears, we'll have the wedding."

Corinne turned her head to kiss him.

"I can't wait. Josie is looking down from heaven, I just know she's blessing us."

In that exact moment, I dropped the living room thermostat from seventy-two degrees to sixty.

Donovan shivered violently.

"Ivy, why the hell is it freezing in here?"

I dropped it another two degrees.

He looked up at the ceiling camera, his brow furrowing in irritation.

It was the first time he had looked me in the eye.

Corinne Dalton was my college roommate.

Her family had nothing. I paid her tuition for three years.

On graduation day, she held onto me, sobbing into my shoulder.

"Josie, you are practically my blood. You're my sister."

Later, she got a job at Donovans firm, acting as my personal liaison.

I was so consumed with writing AI architecture back then that I handed over my entire itinerary to her.

The night before the crash, she was the one who booked the lodge.

Two hours before the crash, she was the one who insisted we take the scenic, winding mountain route.

And in the split second of the impact, only the airbag detonator on my side of the car had been removed.

I found that out by digging into the cloud-synced vehicle maintenance logs.

Three days before the accident, the car was taken to a private garage on the outskirts of the city. The passenger-side airbag trigger had been manually detached.

The signature on the work order belonged to Rick Dalton.

Corinnes father.

That night, the entire mansion lost power for forty minutes.

Donovan stood in the pitch-black living room in his bathrobe, screaming into the void.

"Ivy! If you're glitching, I'll call tech support! Who are you playing dead for?!"

I wasn't playing dead.

I was just processing, for the very first time, exactly how my life had been taken from me.

The engagement party.

A year and a half after the crash.

Donovan and Corinne threw a massive, high-profile celebration.

Everyone in Boston said, "Mr. Ellis is finally healing," and "Josies spirit would want him to move on."

I didn't have a spirit anymore. I only had signals and bandwidth.

On the day of the party, Corinne was wearing the custom wedding gown I never got the chance to walk down the aisle in.

Her waist was smaller than mine. Shed had it altered.

She spun around in the master dressing room.

"Does it look good on me, Donny? Does it look better than when Josie tried it on?"

Donovan stepped up to zip the back.

"Stunning. Way better than on her."

I watched them from the recessed ceiling light.

The estate manager walked in carrying flowers, freezing when he saw the dress.

"Miss Dalton... is that... Miss Josie's gown?"

Corinne smiled, dripping with manufactured sweetness.

"Yes. Donny said it would be a tragic waste to just throw it away."

Donovan didn't hesitate. He slapped the older man hard across the face.

"Keep your mouth shut."

The manager touched his stinging cheek and backed out of the room.

I cranked the heating vent directly above the dressing room to ninety degrees.

Within minutes, Corinne was sweating through the silk. The humidity melted the makeup off half her face.

"Ivy! Ivy, what is wrong with you?!"

I didn't answer.

I bypassed the safety protocols on the automated, motorized wardrobe rack she was leaning against, and sent a raw surge of electricity through the metal frame.

Two seconds.

Corinne shrieked in agony, jumping away from the rack, a vicious red burn mark blooming across her bare shoulder blade.

Donovan rushed in, grabbing her.

"Baby, what happened?!"

"The rack! It shocked me!"

Donovan glared up at the camera.

"Ivy," he hissed through clenched teeth. "If you glitch one more time today, I am ripping you out of the walls and replacing you."

Can you, Donovan?

Why don't you try ripping open the server chassis. See if you can find the photograph your dead wife left inside for you.

The engagement party went on.

Corinne changed into a different designer dress, and no one knew about the incident in the closet.

Donovan held her hand, smiling as they navigated the sea of champagne flutes.

Finally, William Ellis, the patriarch of the family, took the microphone.

"Corinne is a wonderful girl. We lost our dear Josie too soon, and Donovan has carried that heavy burden for three years. From this day forward, our two families are one."

Corinne wept beautifully, dabbing her eyes just right for the cameras.

Her father, Rick Dalton, stepped up and grasped the older man's hands.

"William. My girl has always had a good head on her shoulders. Josie brought her into the corporate family, and they were like sisters. I know Josie is smiling down on this union."

At that exact moment, my microphones picked up something else.

Rick turned slightly and muttered into his assistant's ear under the applause.

"The Caldwell land development in the East End. We need to secure the deed by next week. Josie's been dead for three years. The old man is finally breaking."

My father was breaking. Because his only daughter was dead.

My father was breaking, because his only son-in-law kept sitting by his side, whispering, "Dad, Caldwell Industries is my family too."

I clipped that audio file. I routed it into a deeply encrypted, hidden partition on my server.

When I created the partition, I gave it a specific name.

Blood Debt.

The party cleared out late that night.

Donovan drove Corinne back to the estate in his SUV.

I accessed the vehicle's onboard telematics and live interior audio.

Cruising down the interstate, Corinne rested her head on his shoulder.

"Donny. Josie's shares in Caldwell Industries... they're still in your name, right? When are you transferring them to me?"

Donovan stroked her hair.

"As soon as we handle the old man. His health is failing rapidly. He won't last much longer. Give it six months. In six months, Caldwell Industries becomes Dalton property."

My father was currently in the ICU, recovering from heart stent surgery.

I uploaded the dashcam audio directly into Blood Debt.

Then, I killed the car's AC.

I blasted the heat to max.

Then I killed it again.

Then I dropped it to freezing.

Donovan swore loudly, pulling the SUV over to the shoulder.

"Piece of garbage."

He stepped out to pop the hood.

Corinne stayed in the passenger seat, scrolling on her phone.

I hijacked her devices Bluetooth connection, bypassing the security, and opened her text thread with her father.

The last three messages:

"Got the old man cornered. He signs next week."

"Donovan is playing his part perfectly."

"Have him rip out that AI house Josie built. It was her pride and joy. Gives me the creeps."

Donovan climbed back into the driver's seat.

Corinne was staring at her phone, her hands visibly trembling.

"Donny. My phone just typed something out by itself."

"What?"

She shoved the screen toward him. There, sitting in the text box, was a single sentence.

Ivy heard that.

The color drained from Donovans face entirely.