Genius Little Genius: CEO Daddy, Bring It On

Chapter 2: A Fateful Reunion

The crystal chandelier cast countless diamond-shaped patches of light across the ballroom, while the champagne tower refracted a halo of opulence. Elena tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear; as her fingertips brushed against her pearl earrings, she felt a hint of the coolness from the Moonlight Tea Garden—it was the frosted tea crystal Leo had insisted on slipping into her handbag that morning, claiming it could “stabilize one’s bioelectric field.” She gazed at the crowd of elegantly dressed guests, feeling a slight knot in her stomach. She wasn’t supposed to be in the VIP section at New Edge Capital’s anniversary reception, but her investment proposal on edtech had unexpectedly caught the Chief Investment Officer’s eye.

“Elena?” The HR Director glided over, her glass in hand, her bright red nails tapping the rim of her champagne flute. “I’m so glad you could make it. “By the way, the Vanderbilt Foundation is very interested in the insights on child brain science you presented last time.”

The name pricked her nerves like a needle. Elena picked up the sparkling water from the waiter’s tray; a lemon slice bobbed up and down in the glass. “It’s my pleasure,” she smiled, her gaze sweeping across the crowd before suddenly fixing on the entrance to the ballroom.

Time seemed to skip a few frames. Julian Vanderbilt was walking through the archway, his black suit clinging to his broad shoulders and narrow waist like a second skin; the fragility he’d shown in his hospital bed five years ago was nowhere to be seen. As he tilted his head to listen to his assistant, the taut curve of his jawline reminded Elena of Leo’s expression when he was solving math problems. She instinctively took a half-step back, her high heel catching on the hem of her skirt; as she stumbled, she grabbed the buffet table beside her. Shards of ice from the ice bucket pierced the palm of her hand.

Just then, he looked up.

Across the sea of crystal chandeliers twenty meters away, Julian’s gaze sliced through the crowd with the precision of a scalpel. Elena saw his pupils contract suddenly; the whiskey glass in his hand tilted, spilling amber liquid onto his Italian handmade leather shoes. His assistant hurriedly handed him a handkerchief, but he seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed intently on the inside of her left wrist—where a scar, faded but not entirely erased by the moonlight tea garden, remained as a mark left by the repeatedly shifting IV line during her cesarean section years ago.

“Julian?” The blonde beauty linked her arm through his, her diamond necklace glinting between her collarbones. “You look so pale.”

Elena spun around abruptly, colliding with a heady scent of perfume. “Sorry,” she murmured, hurrying toward the terrace. The night breeze swept in, carrying the city’s distinctive scent of dust. Leaning against the ornate railing, she took a deep breath; the scent of the Moonlight Tea Garden lingered on her tongue, barely suppressing the lump in her throat. The sound of the glass door opening and closing came from behind her, and she stiffened.

“Five years.” A deep voice brushed past her ear, carrying the smoky scent of whiskey. “You’ve been hiding my child for five years.”

Elena dug her fingertips into the gaps of the railing. The potted rose in the corner of the terrace suddenly burst into growth, its vines twisting around the wrought-iron patterns as they climbed upward—a phenomenon triggered by Leo’s emotional turmoil in the space. She forced herself to turn and meet those hawk-like eyes. “Mr. Vanderbilt, you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I’m Elena Rossi of New Edge Capital.”

“Rossi?” Julian snorted, his gaze sweeping over her bare ring finger. “You’ve changed your surname rather decisively. What about the child? Did he take an Italian surname as well?”

The crisp sound of shattering glass echoed from the distance, mingled with a woman’s gasp. Both men turned simultaneously to see Lydia from the marketing department in the ballroom, wiping Elena’s briefcase with a look of deep regret as a large red wine stain spread across the light-colored leather. “I’m so sorry!” Lydia raised her voice, making sure half the hall could hear her. “My hand slipped. “But you don’t mind, do you, Elena? After all, single moms are used to handling all kinds of mishaps, aren’t we?”

A few female colleagues giggled, covering their mouths. Elena noticed that the corner of the celadon tea canister inside her bag had gotten wet; the distinctive silvery-blue tea leaves of Moonlight Tea Garden were faintly visible through the wine stain. She strode into the hall and snatched her briefcase from Lydia’s hands. “It’s fine. It just reminds me I need to switch bags.” She pulled out the soaked proposal, the edges of the paper dripping with wine. “It’s just a shame about the proposal for the Vanderbilt Foundation.”

Lydia’s smile froze on her face. Julian had appeared at the edge of the crowd at some point, with his assistant whispering a report to him. His gaze swept over the wine-stained briefcase before settling on Elena’s composed profile. “Bring the new proposal to my office at ten o’clock tomorrow morning.” Before turning away, he glanced at her wrist. “And by the way, Miss Elena, the statute of limitations for paternity suits involving children born out of wedlock in New York State is twenty years.”

The crowd fell silent instantly. Elena clenched the damp documents, her fingernails pressing crescent-shaped indentations into the edges of the paper. The Frost-Descent tea crystal from Moonlight Tea Garden burned in her pocket. She felt the small crumpled note Leo had slipped into it that morning—a crooked heart drawn in crayon on one side, and an encrypted binary greeting code on the other. The scent of tea lingered deep in her nostrils. She straightened her back and walked toward the restroom, hearing Lydia’s petulant complaint behind her: “How can Julian be so harsh on a single mother…”

The stall door clicked shut. Elena locked the door behind her, her mind drifting to the Moonlight Tea Garden. Under the twilight sky, Leo was directing the tea branches to form complex topological models. Hearing the sound, he immediately rushed over: “Mom! Your bioelectric field just had an abnormal fluctuation for 0.3 seconds!”

She knelt on the grass and hugged her son tightly. The tea trees rustled and swayed, shedding tea downy hairs like stardust. “I ran into a little trouble.” She stroked his soft curls. “Someone spilled some red wine.”

Leo wrinkled his little nose and sniffed. “High tannin content—is it a 2015 Right Bank Bordeaux?” He suddenly looked up, his tea-colored eyes reflecting his mother’s tense jawline. “The person who caused your bioelectric field to fluctuate… is it Dad from your nightmares?”

The night breeze on the terrace swept through the space of consciousness, scattering the stardust from the tea plants. Elena gazed at her son’s features, identical to Julian’s, and a bitter taste like silver needles of moonlight rose in her throat. The financial magazine on the coffee table rustled through her memories; the man on the double-page spread, separated by five years of time, cast a new shadow amidst the red wine stains and warnings about paternity tests. The stream in the Moonlight Tea Garden suddenly quickened its flow; a few tea leaves swam upstream, forming the emblem of the New York State Family Court in the void before vanishing in an instant.