His Unwanted Wife: The Hidden Tech Genius

Cassidy turned away, forcing herself to hold back her tears.

She walked to the curb, raised a trembling hand, and waved down a yellow taxi that was speeding along the avenue.

She slid into the back seat. The worn leather clung to her thighs, feeling cold.

She then mechanically gave the driver the address of the penthouse apartment.

Outside the window, the city's neon lights blurred into streaks of color. Cassidy stared at her reflection in the glass. Her face was deathly pale, her eyes vacant.

She thought of the labs at MIT. She thought of the prestigious research position she had given up seven years ago to marry a man who didn't love her.

She recalled how she had systematically smoothed out all the rough edges of her personality and hidden her talents, all to fit into the suffocating pattern of the Lambert family wives.

A sudden, intense wave of nausea washed over me.

Cassidy covered her mouth, her stomach cramping, and she struggled to suppress the urge to vomit right there in the taxi.

The car stopped in front of the luxury high-rise apartment building. She awkwardly handed the driver a banknote, then got out and stepped onto the sidewalk. Her legs felt like lead, and she wobbled as she passed through the revolving doors.

The elevator doors slowly opened on the first floor. Cassidy took a deep, trembling breath, forced herself to straighten her back, and stepped inside.

As she entered the deathly silent penthouse, she went straight to the huge glass coffee table in the center of the living room.

In the very center was a huge bouquet of ninety-nine flawless red roses.

This was an anniversary gift. His assistant orders it every year, like clockwork. Completely devoid of thought. Completely cold.

Cassidy walked over and grabbed the thick, expensive wrapping paper that held the flower stem.

A sharp, thick thorn pierced through the paper and embedded itself deeply in her index finger. A bead of bright red blood immediately welled up.

She felt nothing. The physical pain was nothing compared to the rotting sensation in her chest.

Cassidy clenched her fists, ignoring the blood flowing out, and yanked the huge bouquet of flowers out of the crystal vase.

She strode into the kitchen and stuffed the expensive, perfect roses directly into the oversized trash can.

The red petals fell one by one, scattering on the spotless white marble floor, looking like the shattered and wasted remains of her youth over the past seven years.

Cassidy turned and went into the master bedroom. She stood in front of the dressing mirror, gazing at the stranger in it.

She reached behind her neck and untied the heavy diamond necklace Cornelius had given her the previous year.

Then he casually tossed it into the top drawer. The diamond struck the wood with a sharp, disdainful click.

She walked into the spacious walk-in closet, past rows of designer gowns, and pulled an old, worn black suitcase from the bottom shelf.

She packed only the most essential items: a few pairs of jeans, a few plain sweaters, and an old, highly encrypted laptop hidden under her clothes.

She did not touch any item bearing the unseen label of the Lambert family.

The moment she zipped up her suitcase, she took out her phone and dialed her best friend Kori's number.

The call connected, and Kori's sleepy, hoarse voice came through, complaining that it was too early.

“I’m getting a divorce,” Cassidy said. Her voice was eerily calm.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone. Then, Kori fully woke up.

“What did you say?” Kori asked.

“I’m packing,” Cassidy replied, staring at the empty space in the walk-in closet. “I’m moving out tonight.”

Why so suddenly?

"He doesn't love me at all. He treats me like an ornament, an object! I don't want to be a vase anymore!"

“Then wait for me!” Kori commanded, her voice sharp and professional. “I’ll contact the most ruthless divorce lawyers in New York right now. I’ll text you.”

Cassidy hung up the phone. She grabbed the handle of her black briefcase and walked out of the master bedroom without looking back.