All Chapters of Programmed the Quaterback Robot to Love: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Kaya POVThe rooftop feels cooler than usual as I push open the rooftop door, my hand still warm from holding my phone. Flynn’s message plays over in my mind they are very simple words, but they’ve been buzzing under my skin for the last ten minutes before I decided to come up hereI step out, and the city stretches out around me, lights glittering against the dark sky. The hum of traffic floats up from below, and in the mist of it all, my eyes find him.Flynn is already here, leaning casually against the low railing, hands in his pockets. A blanket is spread out on the concrete behind him, a small picnic basket set neatly at one end. I stop a few steps away, caught off guard.He turns toward me, his voice low, almost shy. “Do you like it? I noticed you… like being somewhere private. Somewhere no one’s watching.”A soft ache moves through me. Tom never noticed things like that. Not in all the years we were together. He never paid attention to the small details, the places I disappear

Kaya POVThe first thing I register is warmth. Not just the kind from sunlight creeping through glass, but something softer, the kind that makes you want to sink deeper into the sheets and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.Then I remember these aren’t my sheets.I blink at the wall of glass stretching from floor to ceiling, the skyline of the city painted in pale gold outside. The penthouse. Flynn’s penthouse.For a long moment, I just lie there, piecing together the night before. The Aston Martin waiting outside the lab. The drive through the city lights. The way he’d handed me a glass of wine like it was nothing, then grinned when I got tipsy embarrassingly fast. Truth or dare. His shirt off. My shirt off. My nerve evaporating into drunken boldness and almost kissing him— And then… nothing. Darkness. I push the covers back and sit up slowly, rubbing at my temples. My shirt is folded neatly over the chair, my glasses perched right on top like someone knew I’d look for th

Kaya’s POVAfter leaving the cafe, I head back to my apartment, my heels clicking against marble. It’s late, and all I want is a long shower and silence. But something catches my eye near my apartment door, a bouquet of red roses, wrapped perfectly in black ribbon. I slow down, my heart skipping. The petals are flawless, the same shade of deep crimson Flynn once said matched my lipstick. For a second, I almost smile. Then I spot the note. A small white card, tucked between the stems. My name, scrawled in handwriting I’d know anywhere. “You’ll regret this. I made you, and I’ll destroy you too. – Tom.” The words hit like ice. The paper crumples in my fist before I can stop it. I stand there in the quiet hallway, staring at the roses that suddenly look like a funeral offering instead of something romantic. My throat burns. Tears sting my eyes before I even realize it. Tom never once gave me flowers when I was his wife. Not once. Now, the first time he does, it’s accompanied by thre

Hello my beautiful readers. I will be updating this book consistently from henceforth and let me tell you, we have a whirlwind of emotions, secrets and twists to go through Do you think Kaya should be falling for her Robot? Why does he keep saying Noah’s name and should Kaya be worried about it? Should she tell her uncle, expose the glitch and end her revenge? And Riley…woosh that girl is such a fake drama queen. I wonder if she's reconsidering trapping Tom in her scam…maybe she should have done it with Flynn… maybe she should sink her claws into Flynn instead? Or maybe not… Well just keep on reading and we can find out together. Happy reading.

Flynn’s POV I wake up in the dark of my bedroom in the high-rise penthouse with my pulse racing. The room is silent, but something vibrates in the back of my head like static. My vision flickers, then I see it, a rooftop at sunset. The sky burns orange and pink. Her laughter echoes in my eardrums, it sounds faint but familiar. A girl’s laughter. Her. Kaya. But not the Kaya I know now. She’s younger. Sixteen or seventeen, maybe. Her hair is shorter, her smile freer. She’s sitting cross-legged on the edge of the rooftop, clutching white and pink roses. I shouldn’t know that smile, yet I do. The image vanishes, leaving me breathless. I swing my legs off the bed, every movement sharp. My reflection in the glass wall stares back, unreadable. “Why do I see her before I ever met her?” I whisper. My voice trembles. But that's the thing machines don’t tremble. In the bathroom, I grip the sink, bowing my head as cold sweat drips down my temple. A faint blue glow pulses under my skin bef