The front door of the Sterling estate swung open, and Nova stepped into the foyer.

A crystal vase shattered inches from her heels.

"You ruined everything!" Victoria Sterling screamed. Her face was blotchy, her chest heaving beneath a diamond necklace that cost more than Nova's entire education. "The humiliation! Walking out like that!"

Nova stepped over the shards of glass. She didn't look down.

Behind her, the heavy oak door opened again. Bryce and Chloe walked in, hand in hand, bringing the cold night air with them.

"Mom, stop," Chloe said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "She's just hurt. It's hard for her to see us happy."

Nova started up the stairs.

Victoria rushed forward, blocking the banister. "Apologize to your sister. Now."

Nova stopped. She looked at her wrist. Twenty minutes to the rendezvous point.

She looked up, her eyes finally focusing on Victoria's face. For the first time in years, the fog in Nova's expression cleared.

"She was at his apartment last night," Nova said. Her tone was flat, factual. "And the night before. And three Tuesdays ago."

Chloe's face drained of color. "You liar! You're just jealous!"

Bryce stiffened. He looked at Chloe, then back at Nova, his jaw tightening. He chose the lie. He always chose the lie. "You're pathetic, Nova."

Nova didn't argue. She sidestepped Victoria and climbed the stairs.

Inside her room-the smallest one, facing the servant's quarters-she knelt by the bed. She reached underneath and pulled out a black tactical bag. It was scuffed, utilitarian.

She didn't pack clothes. She didn't pack jewelry. She packed three hard drives, a stack of polaroids held together by a rubber band, and a change of clothes made of durable, dark fabric.

She slung the bag over one shoulder and walked back down.

Victoria was waiting at the bottom, holding a glass of scotch. "If you walk out that door, I am cutting you off. No allowance. No trust fund access. You'll be on the street."

Nova reached into her pocket. She pulled out a black credit card-the supplementary one Richard Sterling had given her for 'emergencies only'. She placed it gently on the hallway table.

"I don't owe you anything," Nova said. "From today, I am not a Sterling."

Victoria laughed. It was a harsh, barking sound. "Without us, you can't even afford a hamburger."

Nova opened the heavy front door. "I have a mission with the National Security Agency. I have to go."

The silence lasted one second before the laughter exploded.

Chloe doubled over, clutching Bryce's arm. "NSA? You? Are you going to be the janitor? Or are you writing a sci-fi novel now?"

Bryce shook his head, a look of pity in his eyes. "You've lost your mind, Nova. Truly."

Nova didn't defend herself. She didn't look back. She walked out into the cold wind.

"Asset in position. ETA?" she whispered.

"Sixty seconds," a voice crackled in her ear. "Bird is inbound."

She walked toward the expansive back lawn, the grass wet with dew soaking through her cheap heels, heading for the secluded woods at the far edge of the property.

Inside the house, Victoria was shouting at the butler. "Lock the doors! If she comes back crawling, don't let her in!"

The butler, Mr. Henderson, hesitated. He looked out the floor-to-ceiling window. The trees at the edge of the property were bending.

A low thrumming sound vibrated the glass. Then, a roar.

Wind blasted against the house, rattling the windowpanes in their frames.

A black helicopter, sleek and devoid of any markings, hovered ten feet above a small, hidden clearing just beyond the Sterling's prize-winning rose garden, shielded from the main house by a thicket of ancient oaks.

The downwash was violent. It tore leaves from the branches, sending a confetti of green swirling into the night.

Two figures in full tactical gear fast-roped down, hitting the grass with heavy thuds.

Agent Miller straightened up, ignoring the debris flying around him. He walked straight to Nova and snapped a salute.

"Dr. Vance," he shouted over the roar of the rotors. "We are red on time."

Nova nodded. She tossed her bag to him. "Equipment is secured."

Inside the mansion, Mr. Henderson pressed his face against the glass. His eyes went wide. Through the thrashing trees, he caught glimpses of dark shapes, the glint of metal, and the impossible silhouette of the aircraft. He couldn't see faces or uniforms, only terrifying efficiency.

"Sir!" he screamed, running into the living room. "Sir! Something's happening on the back lawn! Men in black, and some kind of aircraft! They're taking Miss Nova!"

Richard Sterling jumped up from his armchair, spilling his drink. "What did she do?"

Chloe gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. "I knew it! All those times she disappeared... she was dealing drugs! Or worse!"

On the lawn, Nova grabbed the harness lowered from the bay door. She clipped in with a practiced snap of her wrist.

The helicopter banked sharp and hard, lifting her into the air. Within seconds, they were just a set of fading red lights in the sky.

Victoria stood by the window, shaking with rage. "That little criminal! What was that? The cartel? She had them land on my property! The neighbors will talk for years!"

"Call the police," Richard barked, grabbing his phone. "We need to distance ourselves. I won't let her drag the company stock down."

High above the city, inside the cabin, Nova pulled on a noise-canceling headset. She opened a ruggedized laptop.

Agent Miller handed her a secure folder. "General Knight is not happy about the delay."

"I was taking out the trash," Nova said, her eyes scanning the screen.

Miller looked at her. "Do you want us to scrub them? NDAs? intimidation?"

Nova shook her head. "Don't waste the budget. They aren't worth the paperwork."

Back on the ground, Richard was shouting at a 911 operator.

"Yes! Armed men! A black helicopter! They took my daughter!"

"She's dangerous," Chloe added from the background, her voice shrill. "She might have weapons!"

Bryce stood by the fireplace, staring at the empty spot on the lawn where Nova had stood. The sound had been muffled by distance and trees, but it was unmistakably military. The people who met her hadn't dragged her. They had moved with a chilling deference.

He frowned, pushing the thought away. It was impossible. She was Nova. She couldn't even parallel park.

Sirens wailed in the distance, getting closer.

Nova looked down at the grid of New York City lights. Her expression hardened. The girl in the polyester dress was gone.

"ETA to the facility?" she asked.

"Forty minutes," the pilot responded.

Nova typed a command into the terminal. "Good. Let's get to work."

The underground facility in Virginia smelled of ozone and stale coffee.

Nova strode through the blast doors. She had changed in the chopper. The dress was gone, replaced by jeans, a black t-shirt, and a white lab coat. A blue ID card hung around her neck-Clearance Level Zero. The highest.

Dozens of scientists in the main control room stood up as she entered.

Dr. Stein, a man in his sixties with wild grey hair, rushed over. He looked like he hadn't slept in a week. "Dr. Vance. Thank God. The core temperature won't stabilize. We're looking at a meltdown in the simulation."

Nova didn't break stride. She looked at the massive wall of screens, all flashing angry red warnings.

"It's not the core," she said, her voice cutting through the panic. "It's the containment algorithm. It's creating a harmonic resonance in the magnetic field, and your sensors are misinterpreting the feedback as a thermal spike."

"That's impossible," a younger scientist argued. "The physics don't support that."

Nova stopped at the main console. Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "Your physics don't. Mine do."

She typed a string of code, bypassing the safety protocols, and hit enter.

On the big screen, the red bars froze. Then, slowly, they turned green. The temperature curve plummeted.

Silence filled the room. Then, applause. It started slow and erupted into a roar.

Dr. Stein grabbed her hand, his eyes wet. "You saved the project, Vance."

Nova rubbed her temples. The adrenaline was fading, leaving a headache behind her eyes. "It was sloppy coding, Stein. Fix it."

A red phone on the wall rang. A harsh, analog ring.

Agent Miller picked it up, listened for a second, and held it out to her. "It's the General."

Nova took the receiver. She leaned against the console. "General."

"Good work, Kid," General Arthur Knight's voice was gravel and iron. "Now. About the other half of our agreement."

Nova stiffened. "General, I just saved a fusion reactor. Can I get a night off?"

"My grandson needs a wife," the General said. "And the Knight bloodline needs intelligence. God knows Roman has the business sense, but he lacks... vision."

"He's a capitalist," Nova said, rolling her eyes. "And I just got dumped. I'm not in the mood for men."

"This isn't a request," the General said. "It's a tactical maneuver, and a necessary one. There's a leak in the program. We believe you're being targeted. The Sterling name is compromised. The Knight name is a fortress. Being Mrs. Roman Knight gives you the cover you need to work in peace."

Nova sighed. Logically, he was right. She needed a fortress.

"Tomorrow. 2 PM. The Manhattan Club," the General ordered. "Don't be late."

The line went dead.

Nova looked at the receiver. She looked at the fusion data on the screen. Nuclear physics was easy. Marriage was going to be a nightmare.

"Dr. Vance?" Stein asked. "Are you staying for the celebration?"

Nova took off her lab coat. "No. I have to go prepare for a hostile negotiation."