His Unwanted Wife: The Hidden Tech Genius

Cassidy sat at the far end of the huge mahogany dining table, her gaze fixed on the old-fashioned grandfather clock against the wall.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

The minute hand clicked to its final position. It was exactly 9 PM.

Cassidy slowly lowered her gaze to the dining table. A plate of Wellington steak sat before her.

But the golden pastry had long since become soggy, and the expensive meat inside had completely cooled down.

She picked up her phone from the table. A long time had passed since he was supposed to return.

She finally couldn't resist and dialed Cornelius's private number.

The phone rang. Once. Twice. Three times. Four times. Five times.

No one answered; only a cold female voice responded.

Cassidy took a deep, heavy breath. The air in her lungs felt like shards of glass. She opened her texting app and typed a message asking him when he would be home.

Almost immediately, the screen lit up. It wasn't Cornelius. It was a reply from his executive assistant.

"Mrs. Lambert, the president is currently in an extremely important business meeting and cannot be disturbed. He will not be home for dinner tonight."

Cassidy stared at the glowing screen. The last, pitiful spark of hope in her heart had been extinguished.

She stood up.

The wooden legs of the dining chair scraped violently against the polished white marble floor, the piercing sound echoing like a scream in the empty penthouse.

It was like a desperate roar from the depths of her heart.

Without a word, Cassidy picked up the plate of cold Wellington steak.

Without the slightest hesitation, she tilted the plate over the edge of the stainless steel trash can, watching the expensive food slide into the garbage with a wet, dull thud.

The silence in the apartment made her feel increasingly empty and fearful.

She strode to the entrance, grabbed her plain beige trench coat, and wrapped it tightly over the thin, expensive silk slip dress she had specially worn for him.

She had originally planned to have a romantic date with him tonight.

As Cassidy pushed open the heavy door and stepped out of the building, the biting autumn wind of Manhattan howled down Fifth Avenue, fiercely cutting through the collar of her trench coat.

She pulled her clothes tighter in front of her chest and began to walk.

An entertainment gossip news article popped up on my phone.

A high-end restaurant, a cozy place.

Cassidy froze.

Her pupils contracted sharply, and she caught her breath in her throat.

The photo shows Cornelius.

The man who should have been trapped in an important business meeting from which he couldn't escape.

Sitting next to him was their seven-year-old son, Benny. The boy was laughing and happily devouring a huge chocolate sundae.

Sitting directly opposite Cornelius was Harley Moss, his childhood sweetheart.

Almost immediately, she called a car and went to the Michelin-starred restaurant in the photo.

She didn't believe it; she wanted to see it with her own eyes!

It wasn't until she arrived at the restaurant and saw that heartwarming scene through the glass window that she truly witnessed it.

She completely broke down. The stark contrast between the biting cold wind outside and the warm, golden light emanating from the restaurant made her stomach churn.

Harley leaned forward, her expression sickeningly gentle, and softly wiped a bit of chocolate sauce from the corner of Benny's mouth with a clean white napkin.

Cornelius looked at them. A faint, enigmatic smile played on his lips, a smile that didn't quite reach his cold eyes.

That was a smile Cassidy hadn't seen in seven years.

The restaurant's side door was ajar a few inches to allow for ventilation. Benedictine's clear, high-pitched voice drifted into the cold air, drowning out the city's hum.

"Mom is so boring," Benny said loudly, swinging his leg. "I wish Aunt Harley was my real mom."

Cassidy's heart stopped. It felt like an invisible, enormous hand reached into her chest and crushed her heart into a bloody, gooey mess.

Cornelius did not reprimand her. He did not defend his wife.

Instead, his smile deepened, and he reached out to affectionately ruffle Benny's hair, completely condoning the cruel comment.

A pure, glacial chill shot straight from the soles of Cassidy's feet to his brain.

She slowly and unsteadily took a step back, letting the deep shadows of the Manhattan street corner completely engulf her.