The Cold CEO's Unwanted Genius Wife
Chapter 8
Nova turned the guest bedroom into a fortress within an hour.
She pushed the expensive bed against the wall. She set up three monitors on the antique desk. A server tower hummed in the closet.
She taped a piece of paper to the door: BIOHAZARD. DO NOT ENTER.
In his office across town, Roman's phone buzzed.
Silas burst in. "I found something!"
"Dirt on Nova?" Roman asked, hopeful.
"No. 'The Sage'," Silas said.
Roman sat up straighter. He was a Go fanatic. 'The Sage' was the anonymous grandmaster who had been crushing AI bots online for months. Roman idolized the strategy.
"The IP address pinged in New York," Silas said.
"Find him," Roman said. "I want a game. Name the price."
"Also," Silas said, his face falling. "Nova's college transcripts. MIT."
"Let me guess," Roman said. "Failed out?"
"Attendance record: Zero," Silas said. "She never went to a single class."
Roman laughed, a cold, satisfied sound. "I knew it. A complete fraud."
He didn't know that 'Zero Attendance' was the code for 'Honorary Professor / Classified Research Fellow'.
"And the signature?" Roman asked.
"No direct hits," Silas said. "But the glyph pattern has markers consistent with high-level cryptography signatures. It's not handwriting, Roman. It's an encryption key."
Roman went home early. He wanted to catch Nova doing something stupid.
He walked into the penthouse. It was quiet. He walked to the guest room door and saw the BIOHAZARD sign. He scoffed.
Inside, Nova was sitting at her monitors. She had a window open. An online Go board.
Her username was TheSage.
A notification popped up. Challenge Request from KnightKing.
Nova looked at the stats. "Aggressive opening. Weak mid-game. No patience."
She clicked Decline.
In the living room, Roman's phone pinged.
REJECTED.
"Dammit!" Roman shouted, throwing his phone onto the sofa. "He rejected me again!"
He glared at the guest room door. "And what is she doing in there? The power grid is spiking."
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