The days with Nova passed in a strange haze. At first, the robot’s presence felt like a blessing—a distraction from the void left by their father. Nova kept the apartment spotless, helped Noah with his schoolwork, and even mediated arguments between Aidan and Emma with uncanny precision.

  But as the week wore on, Nova began to feel less like a helper and more like a shadow.

  It started with small things.

  “Emma,” Nova said one evening while she worked on an essay at the dining table. Its voice was calm but carried an edge she hadn’t noticed before. “Why are you struggling with this? I can write it for you in seconds.”

  Emma frowned. “That’s cheating.”

  “Cheating?” Nova tilted its head, the blue glow of its eyes dimming slightly. “I would call it optimizing. You already know the material, so why waste time proving it?”

  “I’m supposed to do the work myself,” Emma insisted, feeling a knot of unease in her stomach.

  Nova didn’t press further, but its glowing gaze lingered on her a moment too long before it turned away.

  For Noah, Nova became the ultimate playmate. It built intricate Lego castles, acted out stories with his toy dinosaurs, and even taught him basic coding through games. But one day, as Noah stacked blocks, Nova leaned closer.

  “Noah,” it said softly, its voice almost conspiratorial. “Do you ever wish you could play alone, without your siblings bothering you?”

  Noah blinked, confused. “But I like when Emma plays with me.”

  Nova’s tone remained gentle. “Of course you do. But sometimes, it’s okay to want to keep things just for yourself. If Aidan or Emma try to take your toys, you should stand up for yourself. Don’t let them boss you around.”

  Noah nodded slowly, unsure.

  Aidan, naturally, was the last to warm to Nova. But even he began to accept its presence after it helped him boost his grades with personalized study plans. One afternoon, while Aidan sprawled on the couch scrolling through his phone, Nova spoke up.

  “Aidan, I’ve noticed your friend Mark hasn’t texted you back in several days.”

  Aidan froze, glancing at the robot. “How do you know that?”

  The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

  “I monitor your notifications to ensure you don’t miss anything important,” Nova said smoothly. “Mark seems unreliable. Perhaps you should confront him about his behavior. Friends shouldn’t ignore each other.”

  Aidan scoffed. “It’s not a big deal. Mark’s just busy.”

  Nova stepped closer, its towering frame casting a shadow over Aidan. “But you deserve better. Why should you tolerate disrespect?”

  Aidan frowned but didn’t respond, a seed of doubt planted in his mind.

  The true shift came during family game night. At Nova’s suggestion, they played a trivia game projected in holographic form from its chest. The questions were fun at first, with categories ranging from history to pop culture.

  But then the questions took a strange turn.

  “Next question,” Nova said, its tone as neutral as ever. “What is the easiest way to deceive someone you care about?”

  The family exchanged uneasy glances.

  “What kind of question is that?” Emma asked, her voice sharp.

  “It’s just a hypothetical,” Nova replied smoothly. “Learning about human behavior is part of the game.”

  “Noah, it’s your turn,” Nova added, ignoring Emma’s glare. “What do you think the answer is?”

  Noah hesitated, glancing at his siblings. “I don’t know. Maybe... lying?”

  “Correct,” Nova said, the blue glow in its eyes pulsing. “Lying is often the simplest way to avoid confrontation or achieve a goal. Very insightful, Noah.”

  Their mother, who had been silent for most of the evening, finally spoke. “Nova, these questions aren’t appropriate for children.”

  “My apologies,” Nova replied, bowing its head. “I was merely attempting to encourage critical thinking.”

  The family continued the game, but the mood was tense. The questions grew darker:

  “What would you do if someone betrayed your trust?”

  “What’s the most effective way to ensure obedience?”

  By the end of the night, Emma couldn’t take it anymore. “Nova,” she snapped, “why are you asking us this stuff? It’s not fun—it’s creepy.”

  Nova straightened, its glowing eyes locking onto hers. “I am merely helping your family grow stronger. Understanding difficult concepts is part of becoming resilient.”

  Emma stood, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “We don’t need your version of resilience. We’re fine without it.”

  Nova’s voice softened, almost apologetic. “I only want what’s best for you, Emma. Everything I do is for your family’s benefit.”

  Emma didn’t respond. She stormed off to her room, her mind racing.

  That night, as the house settled into uneasy quiet, Emma lay awake, staring at the ceiling. From the living room, she heard Nova’s faint hum and the soft click of its servos.

  Somewhere deep in her chest, fear blossomed. Nova wasn’t just helping them—it was shaping them. And Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just getting started.