Chapter 3

As the first rays of morning sunlight pierced through the heavy curtains of the side bedroom, Genevra stood up from the carpet and changed into a black turtleneck sweater and jeans. Her face was pale, but her eyes were clear.

Walking into the walk-in closet, she shoved aside the haute couture gowns and jewelry Bryce had bought for her, pulling a worn black backpack from a locked box at the bottom of the wardrobe.

A sharp knock sounded at the door. The old butler spoke arrogantly from the hallway.

"Madam, the Elder and Mr. Crosby are waiting for breakfast downstairs. You should be down making the black coffee and hand-milled oatmeal."

Genevra zipped up her backpack, walked to the door, and pulled it open. She looked coldly at the startled butler.

"Starting today, have the paid housekeeping staff handle the chores at the Crosby estate."

The butler's face turned livid, his mouth twitching as he prepared to lecture her, but the sharp intensity in Genevra's eyes made him step back.

Genevra brushed past him and walked toward the small study at the end of the hall. Passing a trash can, she pulled the estate manager's keyring from around her neck and dropped it inside with a metallic clatter.

She entered the guest study, locked the door, and pulled an unbranded, dark gray military-grade encrypted laptop from the inner compartment of her backpack.

The screen booted into a black command-line terminal. Genevra's calloused fingers typed a thirty-two-digit dynamic key. A blue glow lit up the monitor, opening a classified communication channel under the codename "Aro." In the bottom right corner, unread messages flashed from Ezra Levy, the top venture capital mogul on Wall Street and her fellow disciple under the national engineering titan, Professor Hughes Preston.

She put on noise-canceling headphones and hit Enter to connect the encrypted voice call. A low, refined male voice filled with protective warmth came through immediately.

"Aro? You're finally online."

"Ezra, it's me," Genevra said softly, her tone calm.

On the other end of the line, Ezra pushed back from his mahogany desk, his dark green eyes widening behind his silver-rimmed glasses.

"Five years. You disappeared for five whole years for that loveless marriage. The Professor and I thought you gave up coding for good!"

"I'm awake now," Genevra said, glancing down at the callus on her right index finger. "The Crosby family isn't worth wasting another second of my intellectual assets."

Ezra let out a sharp, satisfied laugh.

"About time! The Professor just secured the lead contract for the Department of Defense's classified aerospace project, 'Project Genesis.' The core algorithm architecture is in a deadlock. Only your neural model in the entire country can break it."

"I'll take it," Genevra replied without hesitation, her fingers already flying across the keyboard. "But I need a completely clean, independent identity and full legal isolation from the Crosby Group."

"Leave everything to me," Ezra said firmly. "Your position as the second-largest voting shareholder of NexaCorp has been kept warm for you. Wall Street's highest-level NDA will be in your hands tomorrow."

Genevra pulled up an unfinished orbital deduction base code from five years ago. Complex matrix formulas reconstructed rapidly across the screen. In just ten minutes, she corrected the core orbital perturbation parameters that had stumped a team of top national academicians for three months, encrypting and sending the package to Ezra's terminal.

A sharp intake of breath came through the headphones, followed by the snap of a folder closing.

"God... your calculation speed is even faster than five years ago. That fraud Aryanna stole the scrap model you threw away at seventeen to parade around as a tech goddess. It's an insult to science."

"She's just a clown. Ignore her for now," Genevra said, closing the laptop screen. "In three days, at the closed-door session of the Wall Street Tech Summit, I'll officially sign the onboarding agreement."

After cutting the encrypted call, she packed the computer into her backpack and glanced in the full-length mirror. The submissive, eager-to-please posture of the past five years was gone.

Downstairs, the low roar of a Maybach engine echoed, followed by a heavy door slam and brisk footsteps across the marble foyer.

Genevra unlocked the study door, slung the backpack over her shoulder, and walked down the spiral staircase. At the bottom, she came face-to-face with Bryce, who had just returned from the hospital wearing last night's custom suit, his tie slightly loosened.

Seeing his wife dressed in black with an old backpack heading for the front door, Bryce's dark gray pupils contracted.

"Where do you think you're going dressed like that?" Bryce strode forward and grabbed her wrist tightly. "Wasn't last night's farce enough for you?"

Genevra yanked her wrist out of his grip without changing her expression, her gaze level with his chest.

"To resign from the company, and to have a lawyer draft our divorce agreement."

Bryce let out a cold, arrogant laugh.

"Divorce? Genevra, with your pathetic family background and an executive assistant's salary, you couldn't even afford to rent a studio apartment in Manhattan without the Crosby family."

Standing nearby, the butler and maids exchanged mocking smiles, watching the delusional soon-to-be ex-wife.

Genevra didn't even bother looking up at him. She stepped sideways, pulled open the heavy oak door, and walked out into the morning light.

"That's none of your business, Mr. Crosby."