The Perfect Escape (The Perfect Escape #1) - Suzanne Park Page 0,86
“And that’s why I can’t stay,” I fired back. “I can’t live like this anymore. In this house, under your watch, like a prison. It’s not anything like how it was when Mom was here.” Every day, every minute, his overzealous overprotection left me stifled and lonely. I needed him to be my dad, not my bodyguard. My face softened a little as sadness flashed in his eyes. “I miss Mom, and I know you do too.”
By mentioning her, I hoped he’d see we were both coming from a place of unhappiness and hurt. That he would be fatherly and not treat this like another hostile business transaction. Because this wasn’t a negotiation. My conditions needed to be met, or I’d walk away.
“Dad, I have to go.”
His face instantly rehardened. “No! Jeeves, do not let her leave that house. She’s grounded. I’m coming home right now to handle this.”
The screen went black. All the doors in the house locked at once with synchronized clicks.
What a dramatic way to have the last word.
An unblinking Jeeves stared back at me. I squeezed my suitcase handles tightly, turning my knuckles so white I lost sensation in my fingertips.
“I need to go, Jeeves,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“You must stay,” he responded. “Your father said you need to stay. He gave an order.”
Each software update had given Jeeves more humanlike responses. Maybe he’d understand where I was coming from. “You’ve been with me a few months, Jeeves. You’ve taken my vitals every week. Do I seem happy to you?”
Immediately, he replied, “Based on my observations, you do not. Your frowns far exceed all other shown facial expressions.”
Well, that was depressing. “Do you want me to be happy, Jeeves?”
“What I want doesn’t matter.”
Damn it.
Time for a drastically different approach. “Okay, Jeeves, hypothetically speaking, if I were to cut off the power in the house with the switch box in Dad’s bedroom, what would happen?”
“I would still be functional, as I am battery powered. The house would remain locked but could be disabled with a manual override.”
“Thanks.” Problem was, hypothetically speaking, Jeeves would stop me from cutting the power.
He added, “I must ensure your safety. Keeping you out of danger is my number one obligation. You are your father’s top priority, Kate.”
Barely suppressing an eye roll, I muttered, “Yeah, well, I don’t believe that.”
“Affirmative. Your father built me just for you.”
“Wh-what do you mean, he built you just for me?”
This new information about Dad left me baffled. Why would I need Jeeves?
“Your father assigned a number of Digitools engineering teams to develop and upgrade my operating system. To serve and protect Kate Anderson.” He saluted me. “Keep you safe and protected.”
Was this Dad’s way of trying to be a good father? Or was this his way of outsourcing his parenting job because he was never home?
Was this love? Or outright rejection?
All of this was too much to process. Rubbing my temples, I tried to squeeze all of these questions out of my head. I already had a one-way ticket away from here. I had my theater and screenplay dreams to fulfill. I didn’t want to follow Dad’s footsteps and move up the ranks in his behemoth company. I had my goal, and Dad had his. To stop me.
I tried the front door. It was locked, of course. No one could get me out except for Jeeves or Dad.
To leave, I needed to think more like Jeeves and Dad.
“Hey, Jeeves, can you please take my vitals?”
“My pleasure!” Without asking me why I’d switched gears to enthusiastically participate in his health monitoring, he checked my blood pressure and oxygen, and pricked my finger for blood analysis, the part I hated the most.
“Your blood sugar is dangerously low. You are also dehydrated,” he reported back immediately.
“That’s right. Could you get me something to eat and drink? I haven’t eaten or drank much today, or the last few days.”