Married To The Comatose Tech Emperor

The morning light barely pierced the heavy velvet curtains of the first-floor study.

The butler knocked once on Gina.

He pushed the door open and coldly told her to go downstairs.

Gina walked into the study.

The room smelled of old paper and expensive leather.

Arthur Rollins sat behind a massive red oak desk.

His face was a mask of cold, hard stone.

Gustaf stood near the window.

A thick blue ice pack was strapped tightly around his right wrist.

Whenever he looked at Gina, his eyes darted away, filled with a toxic mix of hatred and fear.

Hailie sat on the leather sofa, her arm linked with Edwina.

Hailie wore a soft pink cashmere sweater.

She leaned her head on Edwina.

Arthur did not say good morning.

He pushed a silver iPad Pro across the smooth surface of the desk.

The metal scraped against the wood.

The iPad stopped at the edge, the screen facing Gina.

Arthur pressed his thick finger against the play button.

A video started playing.

The lighting in the video was dark and flashing with neon colors.

It showed a girl who looked exactly like Gina.

The girl was sitting on the lap of a heavily tattooed man at a filthy underground party.

The girl in the video leaned forward and snorted a line of white powder off a glass table.

The camera zoomed in.

The thick, jagged scar on the girl.

It was identical to the one Gina had.

"If you do not smile and play the perfect bride at the press conference tomorrow."

Arthur.

"I will send this video to the New York Times."

Hailie let out a soft, theatrical sigh.

She covered her mouth with her hand.

"It is so sad what those hospitals do to people. She is completely ruined."

Gina stared at the glowing screen.

Her eyes tracked the pixels.

Her brain, trained in the deepest sectors of the dark web, dissected the footage in milliseconds.

The rendering was sloppy.

She did not tremble.

She did not cry.

She reached out and grabbed the heavy leather chair in front of the desk.

She pulled it back.

The wooden legs screeched against the floorboards.

Gina sat down.

She crossed her legs.

She rested her hands on her lap.

Arthur.

His hands slammed down on the desk.

The coffee cups rattled.

"How dare you sit."

Gina ignored his outburst.

She looked directly into Arthur.

"The ambient lighting on the collarbone in frame 402 does not match the strobe effect of the background."

Her voice was flat and steady.

"The facial mapping glitches around the jawline when the subject turns her head past forty-five degrees."

She tilted her head slightly.

"And the shadow under the nose is cast from a light source that does not exist in that room."

The study went dead silent.

Arthur.

His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out.

He stared at the girl in the faded maid.

He could not comprehend how a heavily medicated mental patient knew the technical flaws of a Deepfake video.

Gina leaned forward.

"But the public does not care about rendering flaws."

She tapped her finger against the edge of the desk.

"They only believe the scandals they want to believe."

She sat back.

"I will attend your press conference. I will be the perfect, obedient Rollins daughter."

Arthur.

"But I will not wear this trash."

Gina pinched the cheap fabric of her sleeve.

"I want a custom haute couture gown from Maison Étoile. The current season."

Hailie let out a sharp, high-pitched laugh.

She jumped up from the sofa.

"Are you insane?"

Hailie pointed at Gina.

"Maison Étoile does not sell to just anyone. A-list Hollywood actresses wait six months for a fitting."

Edwina stood up, her face flushed with anger.

"You greedy little rat. You do not deserve a single thread from that brand."

Gina stood up.

She slowly smoothed out the wrinkles on her faded jacket.

She looked at Arthur.

"If I do not have a Maison Étoile gown by tomorrow morning."

Gina smiled. It was a cold, dead smile.

"I will walk onto that stage wearing this exact hospital uniform."

She placed her hands on the desk and leaned closer to Arthur.

"Imagine the headlines. The Rollins family forces their beggar daughter to marry into the Brooks empire."

Gina lowered her voice.

"How many millions will your stock price drop in the first hour?"

Arthur.

His jaw clenched so tight his teeth ground audibly.

He was a man who worshipped money.

He calculated the cost of the PR disaster in his head.

The numbers terrified him.

He glared at Gina with pure venom.

"Alistair."

Arthur barked at his assistant standing by the door.

"Call the Maison Étoile flagship store in Manhattan. Pay whatever rush fee they want. Get the damn dress."

Hailie stomped her foot.

Her face twisted in ugly jealousy.

Arthur shot her a look so vicious it froze her in place.

She turned around.

Before walking away, Gina intentionally let her hand drag across the massive red oak desk. Her fingers brushed the edge, moving with blinding, practiced speed. In a fraction of a second, perfectly shielded by her own body and the distraction of their anger, she swept Arthur's spare smartphone off the corner and into her sleeve.

She walked toward the heavy oak doors.

She did not look back at the angry, defeated faces of her family.

As she reached the door, the cold smile returned to her lips.

She knew something they did not.

She was the absolute, sole owner of Maison Étoile.

As she walked down the carpeted hallway, she slipped her hand into her pocket.

Her fingers wrapped around the spare smartphone she had just stolen from the corner of Arthur.

Without looking at the screen, her thumb rapidly tapped out a heavily encrypted text message.