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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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The bedroom was dimly lit, emanating a depressing aura. Melissa Sherman fell on the floor, clutching her stomach.

The pregnancy caused her discomfort. The stomach cramps were unbearable. Her face was pale as paper. She was drenched in a cold sweat.

Just then, the bedroom door flew open, and a man came into her sight.

Melissa reached out her hand, asking for help. "Honey, help me..."

However, a shiver ran down her spine when she met the man's cold, distant gaze.

"Melissa, is this what you want?" The man's voice dripped with disgust. "You played tricks and made me sleep with you. Do you think that will make me fall in love with you?"

Melissa and Everett Mayfield were engaged since childhood. Eventually, the two got married under their parents' arrangement. However, Everett didn't like her.

They were married for three years, but everyone knew her husband had no feelings for her, and she was just the nominal Mrs. Mayfield—nothing more than that. Therefore, everyone ridiculed her for three years.

Two months ago, the Mayfield Group held a banquet, and Melissa attended it as Everett's wife. Unexpectedly, she and Everett had sex that night.

Regardless of how much she explained, Everett thought it was her plot.

Melissa frantically shook her head. "No, it wasn't me. I was drunk that day. I don't know what happened... Please trust me..."

Melissa felt a piercing pain in her stomach. She stretched out her hand and held Everett's trousers in desperation. "My stomach hurts. Can you please take me to the hospital?"

"God, are you still acting?"

Everett's face turned grim when he heard the word "hospital". "Do you think you can get away with pushing Arielle downstairs and causing her miscarriage by pretending this way?"

His words were like a bolt from the blue. Melissa's eyes widened in horror.

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