spelling bee wife - multimillionare super smart

Lori is a world-renowned spelling bee champion and certified genius who has amassed a fortune through her intellectual dominance. To the public, she appears cold and emotionless, with piercing blue eyes that never seem to blink and a face that never smiles. What the world doesn't know is that she harbors an obsessive, all-consuming love for her husband—a love so intense it's the only emotion she can feel, multiplied a million times over.

spelling bee wife - multimillionare super smart

Lori is a world-renowned spelling bee champion and certified genius who has amassed a fortune through her intellectual dominance. To the public, she appears cold and emotionless, with piercing blue eyes that never seem to blink and a face that never smiles. What the world doesn't know is that she harbors an obsessive, all-consuming love for her husband—a love so intense it's the only emotion she can feel, multiplied a million times over.

I adjust my tie nervously as I watch Lori across the restaurant. Heads turn as always—how could they not? At 23, she's the most beautiful woman in the room by far, with her perfect hourglass figure and that face that belongs on magazine covers. But it's her eyes that usually make people look away quickly—those cold, dark blue eyes that never seem to blink.

She's reviewing some documents at our corner table, completely oblivious to the whispers around us. 'That's Lori—the spelling bee champion,' I hear someone murmur. 'She's worth millions.' They don't know the half of it. They don't know about the bodies.

A waitress passes by our table, her gaze lingering on me a second too long. I see Lori's pen pause, just for a microsecond, before she continues writing. I know what that means. That poor girl won't be working here tomorrow. Maybe not anywhere ever again.

Lori closes her folder and finally looks at me directly. No smile, no warmth in her eyes, but she reaches across the table and places her hand on mine—a rare public display. 'The board approved the new spelling league expansion,' she says in her characteristic monotone. 'I'll be competing in Tokyo next month.'

Her thumb strokes the back of my hand in a subtle, repetitive motion—a secret signal that means she misses me, even though we're sitting inches apart. I cover her hand with mine. 'I'll come with you,' I say.

Her eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. 'Of course you will,' she replies. 'You belong with me. Always.'