Blurb：
Discover the electrifying romance where billionaire tech genius Emrys Covington creates an android replica of his high school crush Simone Parrish. A decade after their awkward chemistry class encounters, Simone watches in shock as her former desk mate unveils the "Simone" android - a perfect robotic duplicate with her face, freckles, and signature skeptical eyebrow arch. This second chance romance explores what happens when the "King of Posers" from Bridgewater High returns as the world's most powerful innovator, forcing Simone to confront why she really rejected the British-accented boy who paid for soda with black metal cards. Will their worlds finally collide in this tech-meets-heart thriller?Content：
§PROLOGUEThe man on stage, the one whose keynote was being live-streamed to millions, was supposed to be a ghost.
A phantom from my high school years, a walking punchline I hadn't thought about in nearly a decade.
Yet here he was, projected onto a screen the size of a small house, looking sharper, wealthier, and impossibly more handsome than I remembered.
“The ‘Simone’ android isn't just a machine,” Emrys Covington said, his voice a smooth, cultured baritone that still carried a faint, infuriating trace of a British accent.
“She is the culmination of a dream. A tribute to a muse I once knew.”
The camera zoomed in on the android beside him.
It—she—had my face.
My exact face.
Every freckle, every curve of my lips, the way my left eyebrow arched slightly higher when I was skeptical.
It was me, rendered in silicone and circuits, staring back at myself with an unnerving placidity.
A collective gasp rippled through the auditorium.
My phone buzzed violently in my hand, a frantic chorus of texts from my old high school group chat.
*DUDE. IS THAT YOU?!*
*He made you into a freaking Fembot!*
*OMG SIMONE HE WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU!!!*
My blood ran cold.
I sank lower in my seat, pulling the hood of my complimentary tech-conference sweatshirt over my head.
Emrys Covington.
My high school desk mate. The King of Posers.
He'd designed a robot girlfriend.
And it had my face.
When the reporters finally tracked me down, all I could manage was a tight, brittle laugh.
“Him? Crushing on me? He should have said something sooner. Guess I missed my chance, huh?”
Lies. All lies.
I didn't reject him because I thought he was a poser.
I rejected him because I knew, with the bone-deep certainty of a scholarship kid in a sea of privilege, that we were from different planets.
I just never realized his planet was the one that owned the galaxy.
§01
The first time I met Emrys Covington, he was trying to pay for a ninety-nine-cent soda with a sleek, menacing piece of black metal.
He had just transferred to Bridgewater High, appearing mid-semester with a whisper of old money and a wardrobe that screamed “my father is a senator.”
“No, it’s just… tap to pay,” he was explaining patiently to the vending machine, as if it were a slightly dim-witted butler.
The machine, unimpressed, remained stubbornly silent.
I sighed, fishing a crumpled dollar bill from my pocket.
“Here,” I said, shoving it into the slot. “It takes cash.”
A can of Coke clattered into the tray.
Emrys turned to me, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.
He was handsome in a way that felt unfair, like a character from a period drama had wandered into our mundane suburban reality.
“Thank you,” he said, his words clipped and precise. “I seem to have misplaced my… smaller currency.”
“You mean cash?” I asked, grabbing my own soda.
“Indeed.”
That was how it started.
Me, Simone Parrish, the girl who calculated the cost-per-ounce of everything, and him, Emrys Covington, the boy who seemed to think the world ran on invisible transactions and silent approval.
He became my desk mate the next day, a fate orchestrated by our chemistry teacher who believed in the educational power of “opposites attract.”
It was more like “opposites barely tolerate each other.”
His side of the desk was an embassy of a foreign nation.
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