“He is gone, Clara,” Julian said.

His voice was clear, dripping with familiar condescension.

“Now, let us talk about what you took from my desk.”

I froze, my hand hovering over the keyboard.

“I do not have anything of yours, Julian,” I said to the empty kitchen.

“Don’t lie to me,” the speakers hissed.

“I can see your heart rate on my dashboard.”

“Your fitness tracker says you are at one hundred and ten beats per minute.”

“You are hiding something.”

I looked down at my wrist, where the smart band glowed with a faint blue light.

He had integrated everything into his monitoring loop.

“I am just making dinner,” I said, forcing my voice into a flat, steady tone.

“I am typing my recipe instructions.”

“Type away,” Julian said.

“But if you try to call anyone else, the locks will seal.”

“The gas line on your cooktop has an electronic valve, Clara.”

“Do you remember who designed that safety shut-off?”

My throat went completely dry.

He could lock me in and control the gas flow with a single click.