Reincarnated With the Ultimate Son-in-law System

Chapter 17

"This is either brilliant or completely insane," Michael muttered, examining the black mask in his hands. The sleek design was both elegant and dramatic stylish enough for a high-society fundraiser yet concealing enough to hide his identity.

"I'd lean toward brilliant," Olivia replied, adjusting her evening gown. They stood in her apartment, preparing for the Crawford Medical Center Fundraiser. "Though I admit I never expected to be attending with a masked mystery man."

Michael had already made his appearance at the event as himself—arrived with Katherine, greeted the board members, shook the necessary hands. Then, pleading an emergency call from the Crawford Digital Security team, he'd excused himself, promising to return shortly.

Instead, he'd slipped away to Olivia's apartment where she waited with his change of clothes and the mask. The plan was for her to return to the fundraiser alone, and Michael would arrive separately as her anonymous plus-one.

"The whole city will explode with rumors if I show up with you," Michael said, adjusting his tie. "My secret plans would be exposed."

"Hence the mask," Olivia nodded. "Just remember, once we're inside, we can't appear too familiar. You're supposed to be a mysterious investor I'm courting for my gallery."

"I know my role," Michael assured her. The System message still flashed periodically in his vision:

[Objective active: Make contact with Sophia Morris. Time remaining: 01:37:22]

"Any idea who this Sophia Morris might be?" Olivia asked, as if reading his thoughts.

"None," Michael admitted. "But she'll be at the fundraiser, and somehow she's connected to... everything."

"Well, you can't exactly announce yourself and ask for her by name," Olivia pointed out. "Not without revealing your identity."

"I'll find her," Michael said confidently. "The System wouldn't have assigned this task if it were impossible."

Olivia gave him a curious look—he'd been deliberately vague about "the System" with his team, describing it only as his analytical framework for predicting outcomes. None of them knew about its true nature or his rebirth from another timeline.

"One last thing," Olivia said, handing him a small earpiece. "This connects to my phone. If you say 'gallery,' I'll hear it and can come help if needed."

Michael inserted the device, impressed by her thoroughness. "Ready?"

"As I'll ever be," she replied. "I'll go now. Wait fifteen minutes, then follow. Remember, we have only a passing acquaintance."

After Olivia departed, Michael studied himself in the mirror. The black mask transformed him, concealing his features while lending him an air of mystery and danger. Combined with the perfectly tailored tuxedo, he looked like someone who deliberately cultivated anonymity—a powerful man who preferred to remain unknown.

"Perfect for approaching a stranger named Sophia Morris," he mused.

Fifteen minutes later, Michael arrived at the Metropolitan Museum where the Crawford Medical Center Fundraiser was in full swing. The grand hall glittered with chandeliers and fine art, the city's elite mingling over champagne and canapés. He spotted Katherine across the room, laughing at something Richard Crawford had said. Eric stood nearby, scanning the crowd with calculated interest.

Neither gave Michael a second glance as he entered—the mask and his altered posture providing effective camouflage. Several guests looked his way curiously, but in a city accustomed to eccentricity among the wealthy, a masked man at a charity event barely registered as unusual.

Olivia stood near a display of auction items, engaged in conversation with an older couple. Her eyes briefly met Michael's across the room—a fleeting glance of acknowledgment before returning to her discussion.

Michael moved casually through the crowd, using his enhanced perception to scan faces, looking for anyone who might be Sophia Morris. The System offered no additional guidance, leaving him to rely on instinct and observation.

As he approached the auction display, a young man stepped into his path. Tall, impeccably dressed, with the confident bearing of someone born to wealth and privilege.

"Well, this is different," the man said, eyeing Michael's mask with amused disdain. "Halloween came early this year?"

Michael recognized him immediately—Hulio Vega, son of automobile magnate Carlos Vega and notorious playboy. In Michael's previous timeline, Hulio had briefly dated Olivia before she'd seen through his superficial charm.

"Some of us prefer anonymity to attention," Michael replied coolly.

Hulio smirked. "Anonymity at a fundraiser? The whole point is to be seen donating. Unless you're not planning to donate?"

"I prefer to let my actions speak for themselves," Michael countered.

Olivia approached, her timing impeccable. "I see you've met my guest, Hulio."

"Your guest?" Hulio's eyebrows rose, his interest visibly sharpening. "I didn't realize you were bringing someone, Olivia. You turned down my invitation claiming you were coming alone."

"Plans change," she replied smoothly. "My guest is interested in rare art acquisitions. I thought tonight's auction would be a good introduction to our city's collection."

Hulio studied Michael with renewed interest, professional competition replacing his initial dismissiveness. "A collector, then? Anyone I might have heard of?"

"I doubt it," Michael replied. "I prefer to remain... under the radar."

"How mysterious," Hulio said, his tone conveying that he found it pretentious rather than intriguing. "Well, I hope you brought your checkbook, mask man. I've set my sights on the star piece of tonight's auction, and I'm not easily outbid."

He gestured toward a painting displayed prominently at the center of the auction items—a modernist piece allegedly by a renowned artist, its estimated value listed at $5 million.

"It would look perfect in my new Manhattan penthouse," Hulio continued. "Though I suppose you could always snap a photo to remember it by."

With that parting shot, he moved away, stopping to charm a group of society women nearby.

"Charming as ever," Olivia muttered. "He's been trying to get me to authenticate his family's art collection for months."

"While trying to date you in the process," Michael added.

Olivia glanced at him with surprise. "How did you know that?"

Michael realized his mistake—in this timeline, she'd never mentioned Hulio's persistent advances. "An educated guess. His type is predictable."

Before Olivia could question him further, the announcement came that the auction would begin in fifteen minutes. Guests were directed to take their seats in the adjoining gallery.

"I need to continue looking for Sophia Morris," Michael whispered. "Any suggestions?"

"Check the guest list at the registration table," Olivia suggested. "I'll create a distraction."

She moved toward the entrance, deliberately spilling champagne on a server's tray. In the momentary confusion, Michael slipped behind the registration desk, quickly scanning the digital tablet with the guest list.

Sophia Morris. Table 17. Medical researcher from Crawford Medical Center.

The name meant nothing to Michael, but the occupation triggered his interest. A medical researcher at his father's hospital might have access to information about Richard's heart condition—information Eric could potentially exploit.

As guests moved toward the auction room, Michael navigated carefully through the crowd, making his way to Table 17. A woman in her early thirties sat alone, consulting her phone. Dark hair pulled back in an elegant knot, sharp intelligent eyes, and the focused demeanor of someone more comfortable in a laboratory than a formal fundraiser.

Michael approached, taking the empty seat beside her. "Dr. Morris, I presume?"

She looked up, startled, taking in his masked appearance with a raised eyebrow. "Yes. And you are...?"

"Someone who believes we might have mutual interests," Michael replied carefully. "Particularly regarding the Crawford family."

Her expression became guarded. "Are you with the hospital board?"

"No," Michael said. "My interests are more... personal."

Before he could continue, the auctioneer called for everyone's attention. The bidding was about to begin.

"We'll talk after," Sophia said, her curiosity evident despite her caution.

As the auction proceeded through several minor pieces, Michael noticed Hulio watching him from across the room, a calculating look in his eyes. When the modernist painting was finally presented, the auctioneer announced, "We'll start the bidding at one million dollars."

Hulio's hand shot up immediately. "One million," he called confidently, glancing toward Michael with a challenging smirk.

The game was on and Michael had no intention of losing.