The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife

The coffee shop near Central Park was overpriced and crowded.

Nova sat opposite Victoria and Chloe.

Victoria slid a check across the table. "Ten thousand dollars. Leave Roman. Leave New York."

Chloe smirked. "He's only with you to annoy Grandpa. You know that, right?"

Nova didn't touch the check. "I'm busy. Is this all?"

"Busy doing what?" Victoria snapped. "You don't have a job. You don't have a degree."

Nova's eyes went cold. "Since you care so much about degrees."

She held up a finger. "One month. I will be on stage during the Columbia University commencement ceremony."

It was a trap. She was scheduled to receive an honorary doctorate from the physics department. But to them, it sounded like an impossible boast.

Chloe laughed so hard she choked on her latte. "You? On stage at graduation? You can't even get enrolled!"

"Bet on it," Nova said. "If I do it, you apologize publicly. To me. On camera."

"And if you lose?" Victoria asked, eyes gleaming.

"I disappear," Nova said. "Forever."

"Deal," Victoria hissed.

Nova walked out. She needed air. She walked into the park.

By the lake, a group of elderly people were practicing Tai Chi.

Nova stopped. She watched an old man with silver hair. His form was off.

"Knees bent," she said, walking over. "Center of gravity lower."

The man, Judge Reynolds, frowned. "Excuse me, young lady?"

She didn't want to draw attention—her survival depended on remaining a ghost—but the old man's terrible posture was an insult to the mechanics of the human body. She stepped next to him. She didn't perform a grand display; she simply adjusted his shoulders and shifted his hips with a feather-light touch. "Like this," she murmured. Instantly, his balance locked into place, grounding him with a sudden, immovable stability that defied his age.

The group stopped to watch. Judge Reynolds' mouth fell open.

"Who taught you that?" he asked.

"YouTube," Nova lied.

"Amateur hour," a voice sneered.

Roman and Silas jogged up the path, sweating in expensive gear. Roman looked at Nova with disdain.

"Judge," Roman said, nodding to the old man. "I see you've met my charity case."

Judge Reynolds looked from Roman to Nova. He saw the way she stood-balanced, ready, lethal.

"Charity case?" The Judge asked. "Roman, this woman is a master."

"She's a fraud, Judge," Roman said. "She's just dancing." But as he said it, his eyes betrayed him. He saw the perfect economy of motion, the coiled power in her stance. It wasn't the clumsy girl from the society pages; it was the discipline he'd seen in his grandfather's old special forces training films. A disturbing, impossible connection clicked in his mind.

Judge Reynolds looked at Roman. He looked at Nova. A slow smile spread across his face.

"Roman," the Judge said softly. "You really need to get your eyes checked, son."