His innocent wife is a dangerous hacker.

Chapter 761 Where had he seen that face?

Performance after performance dragged across the stage. Dancers twirled. Singers belted. A boy juggled flaming torches while another recited a poem about the ocean. The audience clapped and cheered and laughed at all the right moments.

Leo sat still, his gray eyes fixed on the stage, but he wasn’t watching. Not really. His mind was elsewhere.

He was bored.

Deeply, profoundly, painfully bored.

The music blurred together. The voices faded into background noise. The bright costumes and flashing lights became nothing more than a blur of color. He had sat through countless meetings, endless negotiations, hours of tedious paperwork. But this was somehow worse.

And the man beside him would not stop talking.

Samuel chatted endlessly about the university, about the renovations, about the weather, about the traffic. His voice was smooth, pleasant, tireless, like a radio that had been left on too long. He talked about his business ventures, his investments, his plans for the future. He talked about the food at the reception, the flowers in the lobby, the color of the curtains on stage.

Leo did not respond. He did not nod. He did not smile. He simply sat, his arms crossed, his jaw tight, waiting.

Samuel did not seem to notice. Or perhaps he did not care.

Leo’s gaze drifted to the man beside him. Blonde hair, neatly styled. Striking blue eyes, almost too bright. Gorgeous facial features, high cheekbones, a strong jaw, lips curved in a perpetual smile that never quite reached his eyes.

Something tugged at Leo’s memory. He had seen this face before. Somewhere. Sometime. But where?

Blonde hair...Blue eyes... That smile.

He looked like someone Leo knew. But Leo could not remember who.

"Up next," the announcer’s voice echoed through the auditorium, sharp and clear, "Krystal from Computer Science."

Leo’s attention snapped back to the stage.

Krystal.

The name was familiar. The girl who had stolen Bella’s work. The girl who had registered Bella’s name without her consent. The girl who had been a thorn in his wife’s side for months.

The lights shifted. The music changed into something slow, sultry, sensual.

Krystal walked onto the stage.

She was wearing a white dress, short and tight, the fabric hugging every curve, leaving little to the imagination. Her dark hair was curled into perfect waves, cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her makeup was flawless, smoky eyes, bold red lips, highlighter on her cheekbones that caught the light and sparkled.

She moved to the center of the stage and struck a pose, one hand on her hip, her chin lifted.

The audience clapped. A few people whistled.

Leo’s jaw tightened.

He did not care about Krystal. He did not care about her dress or her hair or her makeup. He did not care about her performance or her music or her pose. She was nothing to him. Less than nothing.

He cared about Bella.

He looked toward the side of the stage, searching the shadows, hoping for a glimpse of her. Nothing. Just darkness and equipment and the silhouettes of stagehands moving quietly.

He looked back at the stage.

Krystal began to dance. Her movements were sharp, practiced and confident. She knew she was good. She knew she looked good. Her eyes swept across the audience, seeking approval, seeking admiration, seeking validation.

Leo did not watch.

He turned his head slightly and looked at Samuel again.

Blonde hair....Blue eyes... That smile.

Where had he seen that face?

Samuel noticed Leo’s gaze and smiled wider, his teeth white and perfect. "Beautiful performance, isn’t it?"

Leo did not answer. He turned back to the stage.

Krystal’s dance ended. The audience applauded. She bowed, her smile wide and triumphant, and walked off stage with her head held high.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the announcer’s voice returned.

"Our next performer," she said, her voice warm with anticipation, "isIsabella Moretti from Computer Science."

Leo leaned forward. His heart began to beat faster, a steady rhythm that matched the pulse in his temples. His hands, resting on his knees, curled into loose fists. His gray eyes, which had been distant and bored all evening, sharpened with focus.

He did not notice the man beside him.

Samuel Davies, who had been talking nonstop throughout the performances, who had smiled and chatted and gestured as if he and Leo were old friends, fell silent.

He leaned forward too.

His blue eyes fixed on the stage with an intensity that had not been there before. His smile faded. His jaw tightened. He watched the empty stage as if he could see something there that no one else could.

Leo did not notice.

—Backstage—

Krystal was walking toward the dressing rooms when she stopped.

Her breath caught.

Bella was standing near the stage entrance, waiting for her cue. She was wearing the dress Miss J had made for her, soft white fabric, delicate straps, tiny flowers painted on the hem in pale pink and gold. The fabric flowed around her like water, catching the light, moving with her breath. It was simple, elegant and devastating.

Her hair was styled in loose waves, falling over her shoulders, framing her face. Her makeup was light, barely there foundation, a touch of pink on her cheeks, soft brown shadow on her eyelids, and glossy pink lips. She looked natural, fresh and beautiful.

Krystal’s eyes widened.

Someone had told Bella. Someone had warned her. That was the only explanation. How else would she know to dress up? How else would she know to prepare? How else would she be standing here, looking like that, ready to perform?

Krystal’s hands curled into fists at her sides. Her nails dug into her palms.

Bella turned her head. Her brown eyes met Krystal’s.

She winked.

Then Bella gave her annoying smirk that stretched across her lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes. The kind of smirk that said: I know something you don’t know.

Anger flashed in Krystal’s eyes. Her face flushed. Her jaw tightened. She wanted to say something, to scream, to wipe that smirk off Bella’s face.

But before she could say anything, Bella turned away.

She walked toward the stage.

The lights were dim. The audience was quiet. The hum of conversation faded into silence.

Bella’s heart pounded in her chest. Her palms were sweaty. Her legs felt weak. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears, loud and insistent.