Chapter 3

Early in the morning, Marisol woke to the shrill alarm of her phone. Her head was pounding dully. She'd probably caught a cold from standing out in the snow last night.

Rubbing her throbbing temples, she pulled clothes from her suitcase when a red object accidentally tumbled out. It rolled several times across the floor before coming to a stop.

It was a fist-sized robot wearing a red top hat.

The pudgy iron robot looked crude and cheap. Its dull gray body contrasted sharply with the bright red hat. This had been her wedding gift, if it could even be called that.

When she and Lucian married, they'd simply registered their marriage. There was no ceremony, no celebration with friends, no public announcement beyond a sterile corporate notice about the young chairman's marriage.

Her identity as his wife remained unacknowledged. Only Lucian's inner circle even knew she existed.

That night after getting their marriage certificate, she'd asked if he'd ever loved her. Lucian's eyes burned with hatred as he threw this ugly robot at her before walking out without a word.

Later, she discovered that beneath its crude exterior, the robot contained an AI chat program. Once paired with her phone, it could voice responses to her messages.

At the time, this filled her with foolish hope. Knowing Lucian's passion for computers and AI, she believed he must have built both the robot and its program himself.

He made this for her with his own hands.

Now, crouching on the floor, Marisol picked up the robot and opened the corresponding app on her phone. She typed the same question she'd sent on their wedding night seven years ago: "Do you love me?"

The red-hatted robot responded in the same emotionless mechanical voice as before. "No."

Marisol let out a self-deprecating laugh. The answer had been clear seven years ago, yet it took her seven years to accept reality.

Lucian did despise her to the core, didn't he? He went through the trouble of crafting this little robot and programming it just to humiliate her. He really did put in the effort.

The robot now lay haphazardly on top of her suitcase with a crooked posture.

Thinking about their marriage, Marisol suddenly became aware of the plain diamond ring on her right middle finger. She'd worn it so long she'd almost forgotten it was there.

This wedding ring had been another of Lucian's careless choices.

She remembered now that unless they were at the Muller family residence putting on a show for his mother, Lucian never wore his wedding band. This marriage had been her one-woman show from beginning to end.

A cold laugh escaped her lips, intensifying the dull ache in her head. She pulled off the ring and tossed it carelessly beside the red-hatted robot.

Well, these were her spoils from this marriage. When they met again to sign the divorce papers, she would return every last piece to him.

…

Wanda was the one who woke Andre that morning.

With his mother away, no one had read him bedtime stories or tucked him in. He'd stayed up late playing games, thrilled by his newfound freedom, and consequently slept in.

"Where's Mom? I need to get ready," he mumbled. He yawned as he crawled out of bed.

Wanda helped him dress, reminding him, "Mr. Andre, Mrs. Muller is on a business trip. I'll look after you today."

"Oh."

The reminder snapped him fully awake, and a pang of disappointment hit him. When Marisol was home, she'd always be there the moment he opened his eyes. She would help him dress and wash up.

Wanda was kind, sure, but sometimes her movements were rough, and they left him feeling uncomfortable.

Noticing his expression, Wanda suggested, "Why not call your mother and ask when she'll be back, Mr. Andre? She'd be so happy to hear from you."

Andre shook his head violently. "No way!"

This was his chance for freedom—the later she returned, the better! Every day without Marisol felt like a holiday.

"I'll do it myself."

He pushed Wanda's hands away and clumsily dressed himself. After washing up, he dashed downstairs for breakfast.

The dining room was empty. Lucian still had to work, so he had left way earlier.

After eating, Andre lost himself in cartoons and video games, reveling in the lack of restrictions. But by midmorning, boredom set in. He wanted to see Nevaeh.

Even so, Lucian had said no to taking him to the office yesterday as they were too busy. Clutching his game console, Andre frowned in frustration before suddenly getting an idea.

Lucian adored Nevaeh. If he got her permission first, his dad probably wouldn't refuse!

As soon as he thought of it, Andre immediately grabbed his phone and called Nevaeh.

When she agreed on the other end, he cheered and demanded Wanda help him get changed. He then summoned the chauffeur, Simon York, to take him to Lucian's office.

...

In the conference room of Apex Union Bank, the tech team—front-end and back-end developers, UI designers, and product managers—were gathered for a meeting.

"Are these all the requirements for the marketplace page? Final confirmation?" Marisol studied the projection on the wall displaying the newly delivered specs and UI mockups.

After getting confirmation from both the product and design departments, she nodded. "Alright, then. Front-end and back-end, divide the tasks among yourselves. Submit a detailed timeline by end of day, along with any issues you foresee.

"Meeting adjourned."

With that, she stood and left the room first, heading straight for the CTO's office. She'd been in back-to-back meetings since arriving early that morning and only now had a moment to formally submit her resignation.

Given Marisol's critical role and strong performance, the CTO, Ryan Peck, naturally tried to persuade her to stay. They went back and forth for a while, but once he understood her decision was firm—a career change, not a competitor poaching her—he reluctantly agreed.

"You can leave, but you'll need to find a competent successor first—someone who can take over your workload," said Ryan.

"Of course."

With that settled, she notified HR to immediately post a job listing for a senior developer so she could begin interviews as soon as possible.

Only after wrapping everything up did she finally step into the break room to mix herself a packet of cold medicine.

The cold from last night had really gotten to her. After a morning full of meetings, her head throbbed violently, and she had no appetite for lunch.

Only after downing a cup of cold medicine did Marisol feel slightly better. She stood motionless for a moment before finally pulling out her phone and scrolling to a contact card—her great-aunt, Emilia.

Now that she was divorcing and quitting her job to return to art and design, she wanted to tell Emilia the news. But fear gripped her. Her words from years ago still rang clear in Marisol's mind.

"Throwing away your talent for a man—what foolishness! Don't come see me again. As far as I'm concerned, you're no longer my great-niece!"

Her fingers tightened around the phone. Even so, she hadn't truly abandoned her craft—she'd only divided her focus. She still knew that would never satisfy Emilia.

After a long hesitation, Marisol opted against calling. Instead, she sent a text: "Great-aunt Emilia, I'm coming back."

Pausing, she added one more word: "Moira". She even attached an image of a cloud-pattern emblem below it.

The moment she hit send, news alerts suddenly flooded her screen with bold headlines glaring up at her.

"Winthrop Graduate Business School PhD graduate, Nevaeh Sorensen of Sorensen Corp, Returns Home."

"Muller Group Officially Enters AI Sector."

"Muller Group Announces New Tech Subsidiary's Incoming CEO: Nevaeh Sorensen."