Apartment 46

The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife

Meng Xinyu

I stood in the darkest corner of the Pierre Hotel’s ballroom, my cheap polyester dress itching against my skin while my wristband buzzed with a DARPA Priority Red alert. In front of the city’s elite, my fiancé Bryce Calloway took the stage, not to toast our future, but to publicly end our engagement and announce he was with my sister, Chloe. The room turned on me instantly, a hundred pairs of eyes pinning me down with pity and disgust as they physically backed away like I was contagious. When I returned home, my mother shattered a crystal vase at my feet, screaming that I was a humiliation and a "dropout" who didn't deserve a cent of the family fortune. Chloe and Bryce mocked me, laughing when I told them I had a mission with the National Security Agency, convinced I was either a pathological liar or a low-level criminal. They watched in horror as a black, unmarked military helicopter descended on our backyard to extract me, yet they still chose to believe I was being arrested for drug trafficking. They saw a pathetic girl who couldn't even parallel park, never realizing I was Dr. Nova Vance, the lead physicist behind the world's first successful fusion reactor. To secure funding for my research and gain a "fortress" of a name, I signed a thirty-day marriage contract with the arrogant billionaire Roman Knight. He treats me like a fraud, convinced I’m a gold-digger who failed out of college, while I quietly run global energy simulations from his guest bedroom. He has no idea that the "loser" he’s forced to live with is the same anonymous grandmaster who has been ruthlessly crushing him in online strategy games for months. "The contract is active," I told him, looking past his expensive suit. "But don't expect me to be your maid."

Modern Mystery

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< Serena >

Paintings.

I always love them. Whenever there was an art show near Manhattan, I make it a point to go, check the artworks and possibly buy one. Or two. Or three of them.

What I look for in a painting are the strokes the painter uses, the use of colors and how they blend in with the picture in general, and of course, the drawing.

I'm a sucker for fantasy-inspired paintings. Fantastical landscapes, still pictures, mythical creatures, men and women wearing weird clothing, oh yes. I collect them all. They always reach out to a part of my soul that I had been guarding since I lost my parents. They always call out to a part of me that I'm not sure what.

Maybe, my parents as painters could be a reason. They influenced my tastes after all. But deep inside me, I knew there was always something special about these type of paintings that I couldn't quite figure out.

One rainy day, I ran across an antique shop in downtown Manhattan about to be closed by the bank for bankruptcy. The different antique displays were spread all over the street in the hopes that some passers-by would still buy them.

I caught sight of a beautiful painting of a landscape. Breathtaking it was and purely, for lack of a better word, out-of-this-world. The painting showed a mountain range with its slopes covered in autumn trees. In the center of this mountain range, just nestled on top the hill, was a silver castle. The details were extraordinary. Magical even. I couldn't resist its call, so in the end, I bought it. Plus, I didn't want it to be wet with the rain. I wanted to give it a home.

The antique shop owner, an old lady probably in her late sixties, was gracious enough to give me a discount considering the painting had smudges on the edges due to its aged state. I was kind enough to refuse it. If she was in bankruptcy, at least my full payment of the painting would help her in some way.

"May the magic be with you always, " she said with a smile as we parted.

I just shrugged my shoulders never really thinking much of about her words.

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