"Brilliant!" Professor Moore pped the table in delight. "That''s exactly the right approach."


    Principal Maxwell chuckled, cutting in. "Well, Moore, convinced now? I''ve been saying all along this young woman is something special."


    "Special doesn''t even begin to cover it," a female professor chimed in.


    Eleanor''s eyes widened with admiration as she looked at her-a renowned authority in neural repair, Professor Wyndham.


    "Miss Sutton''s theoretical framework is cutting-edge. It could solve countless problems in the future," Professor Wyndham said warmly. "Eleanor, I''d love to invite you to spend a few days at ourb. What do you say?"


    The invitationnded like a bombshell, sparking a low buzz of excitement around the dinner table.


    Professor Wyndham''sb was the dream destination for young schrs-her personal invitations were exceedingly rare.


    Eleanor was momentarily at a loss for words. Instinctively, she nced at Dr. Lyman, who smiled reassuringly. "Of course. I''ll help arrange your schedule."


    Across the table,n was deep in conversation with a visiting expert, but nced over at themotion.


    "I''m truly honored," Eleanor managed, steadying her nerves. Surrounded by so many esteemed colleagues, she still felt a bit anxious. "Professor Wyndham, my current project is at a critical stage..."


    "No rush, no rush," Professor Wyndham said with a gentle smile. "We''ll stay in touch. Come whenever you''re free."


    "Thank you, Professor Wyndham." Eleanor nodded, returning the smile.


    That afternoon, the academic discussions resumed. Eleanor took part, while assistants snapped photos throughout.


    After dinner, back in her guest room, Eleanor rubbed her sore neck; even her cheeks ached from smiling so much.


    Still, the day''s exchange had inspired her deeply.


    She showered, then sat down to review the conference materials she''d gathered.


    Suddenly, she froze. This wasn''t her binder.


    She always scribbled notes in the margins, but this folder was nk. Flipping through, she suddenly spotted her own name, circled several times. Next to it, someone had been writing her name over and over.


    The handwriting was bold, assertive—unmistakablyn''s.


    Eleanor clenched her jaw. Why hadn been circling her name during the meeting? And writing it again and again on the page? Was he practicing his penmanship?


    Annoyed at having lost her own annotated notes, she sighed. The materials she hadn''t picked up earlier had no doubt been collected by an assistant. It was too embarrassing to go ask for them now. Thankfully, her memory was good-her notes were mostly in her head.


    Exhausted, she flopped onto the bed and fell asleep almost instantly.


    When she opened her eyes, it was morning.


    Today was the exhibition visit. After breakfast, a bus waited outside. Eleanor boarded, and a young male student hurried to im the seat beside her.


    By the timen boarded, all the seats around Eleanor were taken by eager male students, so he took a spot further up front.


    Even if they didn''t dare talk to Eleanor, just sitting near her made the ride feel magical. Not only was Eleanor brilliant, but she was strikingly beautiful-brains and beauty in perfect harmony.


    At the exhibition center, the group followed a guide through the disys, Eleanor snapping photos on her phone. As she tried to step back for a better shot, she suddenly felt her footnd on something or rather, someone.


    Startled, she looked down. An arm wrapped firmly around her waist, steadying her.


    Eleanor turned. She''d stepped onn.


    Her apologetic look quickly turned to annoyance as she pried his arm from her waist. "Don''t touch me."<pn narrowed his eyes at her. Once, they''d been husband and wife. Now, they were worse than strangers.