The conference room table was long enough to land a plane on.

Roman sat at one end, flanked by three lawyers in grey suits. They looked at Nova like she was a stain on the upholstery.

The lead lawyer slid a document across the polished wood. It was thick.

"Standard pre-nup," Roman said, spinning a pen. "You can get a lawyer to read it, if you can afford one."

Nova pulled the document toward her. She flipped past the assets section. She flipped past the alimony section. She stopped at the back.

"Clause 45," she said. "Intellectual Property."

"What IP do you have?" Roman sneered. "Recipes?"

Nova picked up a pen. She slashed through the paragraph. "Any invention, code, or patent created by me during the cohabitation period remains my sole property. Knight Industries gets zero percent."

The lawyer chuckled. "Miss Sterling, surely-"

"Clause 82," Nova interrupted, writing in the margins. "I need a dedicated fiber optic line. Unmonitored, with direct access to the exchange. No corporate firewalls."

"What for?" Roman asked, eyes narrowing. "Running a scam?"

"Algorithmic trading," Nova said without looking up. "High-frequency. It's latency-sensitive."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Unbelievable."

Nova scanned the rest of the pages. Her eyes moved vertically, taking in whole paragraphs in seconds. She flipped to the signature page.

She signed her name. It wasn't a cursive loops-and-swirls signature. It was sharp, jagged. A complex glyph.

Roman watched her sign. He frowned. He had seen that style of handwriting before. On a classified briefing document he wasn't supposed to see. A chill traced its way down his spine, a flicker of instinct he had learned not to ignore. He pushed it down. It had to be a coincidence.

He shook his head. Coincidence.

"The contract is active," Roman said, standing up. "Move into the penthouse tonight."

"Put me in the room furthest from yours," Nova said.

"Don't play hard to get," Roman said. "I know you'll be trying to crawl into my bed by Tuesday."

Nova looked him dead in the eye. "Your mattress is memory foam. It's bad for lumbar support. I prefer the floor."

The lawyers choked back laughs. Roman's face turned a dark shade of red.

Nova grabbed her copy of the contract and walked out. At the door, she paused. "I don't cook. I don't clean. I'm here for the trial, not to be your maid."

She closed the door.

Roman stared at her signature. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of it.

He texted it to Silas. Cross-reference this signature. Knight Industries internal security database and all federal watchlists. Priority Alpha.

Nova turned the guest bedroom into a fortress within an hour.

She pushed the expensive bed against the wall. She set up three monitors on the antique desk. A server tower hummed in the closet.

She taped a piece of paper to the door: BIOHAZARD. DO NOT ENTER.

In his office across town, Roman's phone buzzed.

Silas burst in. "I found something!"

"Dirt on Nova?" Roman asked, hopeful.

"No. 'The Sage'," Silas said.

Roman sat up straighter. He was a Go fanatic. 'The Sage' was the anonymous grandmaster who had been crushing AI bots online for months. Roman idolized the strategy.

"The IP address pinged in New York," Silas said.

"Find him," Roman said. "I want a game. Name the price."

"Also," Silas said, his face falling. "Nova's college transcripts. MIT."

"Let me guess," Roman said. "Failed out?"

"Attendance record: Zero," Silas said. "She never went to a single class."

Roman laughed, a cold, satisfied sound. "I knew it. A complete fraud."

He didn't know that 'Zero Attendance' was the code for 'Honorary Professor / Classified Research Fellow'.

"And the signature?" Roman asked.

"No direct hits," Silas said. "But the glyph pattern has markers consistent with high-level cryptography signatures. It's not handwriting, Roman. It's an encryption key."

Roman went home early. He wanted to catch Nova doing something stupid.

He walked into the penthouse. It was quiet. He walked to the guest room door and saw the BIOHAZARD sign. He scoffed.

Inside, Nova was sitting at her monitors. She had a window open. An online Go board.

Her username was TheSage.

A notification popped up. Challenge Request from KnightKing.

Nova looked at the stats. "Aggressive opening. Weak mid-game. No patience."

She clicked Decline.

In the living room, Roman's phone pinged.

REJECTED.

"Dammit!" Roman shouted, throwing his phone onto the sofa. "He rejected me again!"

He glared at the guest room door. "And what is she doing in there? The power grid is spiking."

Officer Davies stood in the foyer of the Sterling estate, looking tired.

"Let me get this straight," he said, pen hovering over his notebook. "A military helicopter kidnapped your daughter."

"Yes!" Richard shouted. "Abducted!"

Davies sighed. He radioed dispatch. "Run a check on Nova Sterling. Status."

He waited. The radio crackled. A burst of static, then a clipped, coded response that made Davies' blood run cold.

Davies' face went pale. He looked at Richard.

"Mr. Sterling," Davies said, his voice now devoid of any familiarity, "there was no kidnapping. I strongly advise you to consider this matter closed."

"What are you talking about? Where is she?"

"I cannot disclose that information," Davies said, snapping his notebook shut. "And let me be clear. If you or anyone in this house contacts law enforcement regarding this individual again, it will be considered obstruction of a federal matter. Do you understand me?"

"That's impossible!" Victoria shrieked. "She's a dropout!"

Davies gave her a look that was pure ice. He turned and left without another word.

Chloe bit her nail. "She's in the mafia. That's it. She's a drug mule. She hacked the police database."

"Yes," Victoria agreed, desperate for it to be true. "She's a criminal."

At the penthouse, Roman kicked open the guest room door.

Nova's fingers flew. Alt-Tab.

The code on the screens vanished, replaced instantly by a Korean drama in 4K resolution.

Roman stood in the doorway. He saw the TV show. He saw the empty bags of chips (which were actually hiding circuit boards).

"This is it?" Roman asked, incredulous. "This is why my electric bill is up? You're streaming soap operas?"

Nova crunched a chip. "It's 4K. High bandwidth."

"I thought you were running trading algorithms," Roman muttered.

Nova's phone rang. She put it on speaker.

"You little witch!" Victoria's voice screamed. "How did you trick the police? Who did you pay off?"

Roman raised an eyebrow.

"I didn't trick anyone," Nova said calmly. "You're just an idiot."

"Don't think your mafia boyfriends scare us!" Victoria yelled.

Nova hung up.

Roman leaned against the doorframe. "Mafia? Federal matter? You have a colorful life for a shut-in."

Nova looked at him. "If I told you I was a national security asset, would you believe me?"

Roman laughed. It was a genuine, amused sound. "I'd believe you're a mafia mistress first. At least that requires some charisma."

He walked away. "Keep the volume down. I have work to do."