His Unwanted Wife: The Hidden Tech Genius

At seven o'clock the next morning, a sleek black Maybach pulled up to the curb outside the Manhattan luxury high-rise. Cornelius pushed the car door open. He walked into the grand lobby, his posture rigid and authoritative, flanked by a highly energetic Benny and a perfectly styled Halle. The private elevator took them straight to the penthouse. Cornelius pushed the front door open, his brow furrowing almost instantly. There was no smell of freshly brewed coffee. The apartment was dead silent. It felt unnervingly empty. Halle stepped inside, moving with the natural grace of a woman who owned the place, and gently helped Benny take off his little jacket. Benny let out a loud cheer, completely ignoring his father, and sprinted straight for the living room to turn on the video game console that Cassidy usually strictly limited. Cornelius didn't reprimand the boy. He ignored the sudden blast of video game noise and walked straight toward the master bedroom to change for work. He pushed the bedroom door open and glanced at the massive king-sized bed out of habit. The duvet was perfectly smoothed out. There wasn't a single crease on the pillows. His eyes darkened. He walked over to the massive walk-in closet and slid the heavy frosted glass doors open. The section belonging to Cassidy was slightly bare. A small fraction of her most basic, unremarkable clothes were gone. Cornelius let out a cold, dismissive sneer. He assumed this was just another pathetic, jealous tantrum. A desperate cry for attention because he had missed their anniversary. He turned away from the closet and walked over to his nightstand to grab his backup luxury watch. As his eyes swept across the polished wood surface, he froze. His gaze sharpened into a dangerous glare. The limited-edition, silver AI robot model that always sat on the corner of the nightstand was gone. It was a prototype he had carelessly tossed to her seven years ago. She had treated the worthless piece of metal like a holy relic ever since. He was not irritated by the loss of that piece of junk, but by her sheer audacity. How dared she take something he had discarded, treating it as her own property? It was a blatant provocation against his absolute ownership. A dark, possessive anger flared in his chest. He slammed his hand down on the intercom button, calling the head housekeeper, Alma. Alma answered, her voice trembling with anxiety. She reported that Mrs. Lambert had left late last night, dragging a black suitcase behind her. Cornelius's jaw tightened. His voice was absolute ice. "Cancel every single supplementary credit card under her name. Let's see how many days she lasts out there." He slammed the intercom off, violently yanked his silk tie loose, and marched out of the bedroom. Across the river in Brooklyn, Cassidy slowly opened her eyes on the narrow twin bed. Morning sunlight sliced through the dusty blinds, casting harsh lines across her face. She sat up and stretched her stiff back. She walked over to her open suitcase on the floor and dug past the folded jeans. From the very bottom, she pulled out the silver AI robot model. She carried it to the rough, scarred wooden workbench and set it down. She stood there, staring at it in the quiet studio. This piece of metal had carried all her naive, girlish dreams. It was the physical anchor of her entire delusional marriage. Looking at it now, it was nothing but a grotesque joke. She reached out and rested her fingertips against the cold metal casing. Instantly, her stomach violently rebelled. Cassidy sprinted to the small industrial sink in the corner. She gripped the porcelain edges until her knuckles turned white and dry-heaved, her body physically rejecting the memories. The violent spasms forced hot, stinging tears to the corners of her eyes. She turned on the faucet, splashed freezing water onto her face, and stared at her dripping reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were completely devoid of warmth. She walked back to the workbench. She opened a drawer, pulled out a steel screwdriver, and pointed the sharp tip directly at the robot's back panel. She was going to tear this piece of trash apart.