But Julian had made one crucial error.

He had assumed that all I had was a recording.

And I did not lose my temper, and I did not raise my voice.

I simply reached for my leather portfolio, resting on the sideboard.

Chapter 9 — This Isn’t AI

I pulled out a stack of heavy, printed documents, and I began, calmly, to distribute them around the table.

“This isn’t AI, Julian,” I said, and I set the first folder down in front of his mother.

“This is your itemized phone bill from the past six months.