Genius Little Genius: CEO Daddy, Bring It On

Chapter 3: A Marriage of Convenience

The lock on the bathroom stall door clicked softly. Elena opened her eyes; the buzz of the banquet hall hummed through the door. The coolness of Moonlight Tea Garden still lingered on her fingertips, yet the image of the New York State Family Court emblem was already seared into her retinas. She turned on the faucet, letting the cold water wash over the fading scar on her wrist. A wine stain seeping from the celadon tea canister in her briefcase spread across the white marble countertop, like a pool of congealed blood.

“Need some help?” the cleaning lady asked, stopping her cart at the doorway.

Elena quickly grabbed a paper towel to cover the stain. “I accidentally spilled some wine.” She caught a glimpse of her pale face in the mirror; her lipstick had left a faint, smudged imprint on the rim of the glass. The twenty-year statute of limitations began ticking like a stopwatch in her mind, and Julian’s final words echoed in her ears—he had recognized Leo.

Her phone vibrated inside her bag. Sebastian’s name flashed on the screen, with a background image of the evergreen moonlight white tea plant in his jewelry studio. “How’s the party going?” His voice had the gritty rasp of sandpaper against metal, with the hum of a cutting machine in the background.

“Do me a favor.” Elena lowered her voice as the click-clack of high heels echoed outside the cubicle. “I need a marriage certificate.”

There was a three-second silence on the other end. “Send me the address. See you in half an hour.”

“A sapphire wedding ring is too flashy.” Sebastian slid the velvet box across the tea table; the platinum band was set with a moonstone the size of a grain of rice. “This mineral glows blue under UV light—it perfectly complements your tea plantation.”

In the antique tea room, incense mingled with the rich aroma of aged Pu’er tea. Elena traced the engraving on the inside of the band—the first twenty digits of pi that Leo had secretly etched with a laser pointer. “We need to amend Article Three of the agreement.” She turned the printed document toward him. “If Julian initiates a paternity test, you must immediately relinquish all legally recognized claims to custody.”

Sebastian’s silver teaspoon tapped lightly against the rim of his cup, producing a clear ring. “Are you sure you want to take that gamble? If he actually goes to court to apply for a restraining order...”

“The deed to Moonlight Tea Garden is in my name.” Elena pulled a yellowed parchment from a compartment in her briefcase. Strangely, the red wine stain automatically contracted into a regular hexagon upon touching the paper. “The Will of Space chose me; this is the most solid proof of ownership.” She paused for a moment, watching the tea-leaf-like patterns emerge in the corner of the deed. “But secular courts only recognize marriage certificates.”

As he drew out his Montblanc pen, the nib flashed coldly in the light. “Remember when we first met? You saved my Schnauzer with tea leaves in Central Park.” The nib scraped across the paper with a rustling sound. “Now it’s my turn to be your shield.”

The moment the agreement was signed, the celadon tea canister suddenly emitted a buzzing sound. A silvery-blue mist seeped from the c***k in the canister, condensing in the air into a projection of Section 516 of New York State’s Family Relations Law—when the father of a child born out of wedlock claims custody, the married mother is presumed to have priority. As the mist dissipated, the c***k in the canister miraculously sealed itself, returning to its original state.

It was a full moon night at Moonlight Tea Garden. The stream carried moonlight like scattered silver through the tea rows. Leo was building a model of the New York Supreme Court out of tea branches, with clouds made of dandelion fluff drifting across the dome. “Uncle Seb’s ring smells like Mom,” he said without looking up, his fingertips swiftly weaving tender leaves into Gothic flying buttresses.

Elena hid the wedding ring in a hollow of the tea tree: “This is our talisman.”

“Like a superhero’s shield?” As the boy turned, his tea-colored pupils reflected the invisible ring mark on his mother’s ring finger. “But shouldn’t a shield be round?”

Suddenly, her throat was choked by the silver-needle tea buds glistening in the moonlight. Five years ago, the scent of disinfectant from the delivery room drifted into the tea garden without warning, and the monotonous beep of the monitor rang in her ears. At that time, Julian had just been taken off the ventilator; his pale fingers rested on the newborn incubator, while the lawyer stood in the shadows holding the share transfer agreement.

“Mommy?” Leo tugged at her scarf; the topological model behind him collapsed into a flurry of tea leaves. “Why doesn’t Daddy want us?”

The tea bushes began to tremble violently, and the tips of the newly sprouted buds quickly turned black and curled up. Elena crouched down to embrace her son, but the boy took a half-step back, and the grass beneath his feet split open into spiderweb-like cracks. “He saw me, didn’t he? ” Stream water gushed into the fissures, and a double-page spread from a finance magazine floated to the surface; Julian’s features overlapped with the boy’s in the ripples. “On the cocktail party terrace, his bioelectric field resonated with mine for 37 seconds.”

Dead leaves swirled into a vortex between them. Elena reached out to grab the child, but her wedding ring began to burn at the base of her finger. Moonlight was suddenly swallowed by churning dark clouds, and a torrential downpour poured down, the rain mingled with the smoky scent of whiskey and the pungent smell of hospital iodine. She saw herself from five years ago, carrying a swaddled infant through the fire escape, the piercing alarm of the monitor behind her shattering the night sky.

“I didn’t mean to…” Elena’s voice was shattered by thunder as the tea garden soil cracked beneath her feet. Her final vision was of Leo standing on the other side of the fissure; in the rain, his figure shrank into that of the wrinkled infant in the incubator from five years ago. The stream swelled and engulfed the tea terraces; half a marriage certificate, soaked in red wine, floated to the surface, and Sebastian’s signature gradually dissolved in the surging waves.