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."

The Manhattan Club smelled of old leather, cigar smoke, and exclusion.

Nova walked past the maître d', ignoring his sputtered protest about her denim jeans. She pushed open the door to the private suite.

Two men sat inside.

Roman Knight sat in the shadows. He was darker than she expected. Dark hair, dark suit, eyes like obsidian. He radiated a cold, predatory energy. He was reading something on a tablet.

Silas Montgomery, his best friend, sat opposite him, nursing a whiskey. He looked Nova up and down and smirked.

"I'm Nova Sterling," she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

Roman didn't look up. "You're thirty seconds late."

"Security took a while," Nova said, pouring herself a glass of water. "Your biometric scanners are slow."

Silas laughed. "So, you're the charity case? The Sterling reject? Bryce Calloway really did a number on you, huh?"

Nova took a sip of water. "Your intel is decent."

"College dropout. Unemployed. Living off daddy's money," Silas listed off, ticking his fingers. "What makes you think you can sit at this table?"

"General Knight asked me to be here," Nova said calmly. "I didn't ask for this."

Roman finally looked up. His face was sharp, angular, handsome in a cruel way. "My grandfather is senile."

Nova's eyes drifted to the table. Next to Roman's hand was a copy of Automotive Weekly. The cover featured a prototype armored vehicle-the Vanguard.

"The suspension is wrong," Nova said, pointing at the magazine.

Roman followed her gaze. He frowned. "Excuse me?"

"The Vanguard," she said. "Center of gravity is too high. If it takes an IED hit from the side, it'll roll."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "That is a classified prototype. How do you know about the suspension geometry?"

"I follow military tech blogs," she lied smoothly. It was a partial truth. She wrote the technical specs for them under a pseudonym.

Silas burst out laughing. "Oh, wow. She's a pathological liar too! Roman, this is rich."

Roman looked at her with pure disgust. "Do you think lying about military tech impresses me? It's pathetic."

Nova shrugged. "Think what you want."

Roman stood up, buttoning his jacket. "I have no interest in this. Or you. Leave."

Nova didn't move. "The General said you'd say that. That's why your trust fund is frozen."

Roman froze. His hand stopped halfway to his pocket.

"How do you know that?" Silas asked, his smile vanishing.

Nova pulled out her phone. "Because I wrote the freeze protocol."

Roman leaned over the table, invading her space. He smelled of sandalwood and danger. "You are playing a dangerous game, little girl."

Nova looked up at him. She didn't blink. She didn't flinch.

"I brought the decryption key," she said. "And I'm the only one who knows the password."

General Knight's study was a museum of war. Swords on the walls, medals in glass cases.

The General sat behind his desk. Roman stood to the left, pacing like a caged tiger. Nova sat on the right, examining her fingernails.

"Well?" The General barked.

"She's a fraud," Roman spat. "A liar. And she's delusional."

"She told you the truth," the General said, hiding a smile. "You just aren't smart enough to see it."

"She's a Sterling reject!" Roman shouted. "She brings nothing to the table. No equity, no connections."

"She brings genes," the General said, tapping a folder. "The Knight family needs brains. You have money. We need IQ."

Roman scoffed. "Her? She didn't even finish undergrad."

The General couldn't say 'She has three PhDs and is a national asset' because of the clearance levels. He just grunted. "It's an order. Marry her, or I keep the trust frozen and remove you as CEO."

Roman slammed his hands on the desk. "This is blackmail!"

"I agree," Nova said. "This is a stupid idea."

Roman looked at her, surprised.

"I don't want to marry him," Nova said, standing up. "He's arrogant and emotional."

"Nova!" The General warned. "Think about the funding for the... project."

Nova stopped. Her shoulders slumped. The fusion project. It needed billions. The Knight Foundation was the silent backer.

"So you are in it for the money," Roman said, his voice dripping with venom.

Nova turned to him. "Yes. I need the money."

Roman looked at her with a mix of triumph and loathing. "At least you're honest about being a gold digger."

"Compromise," the General said. "A fake engagement. Six months. A trial run. You live together. If you still hate each other after that, I unlock the funds, and you go your separate ways."

Roman calculated. Six months. He could break her in three weeks. He could make her life so miserable she would run back to the gutter she came from.

"Fine," Roman said. "But she'll regret it."

Nova looked at him. Her face was blank. "I just came back from a war zone, Roman. You're just a man in a suit."

"Deal," the General said. "Call the lawyers."