The Disposable Intern
# The Sterling Contract of Hearts
## Chapter 1: The Disposable Intern
The boardroom smelled of expensive cologne and old money.
Nova Waverly pressed herself against the back wall, her temporary security badge a dull weight against her collarbone. She’d been hired for six hours—six hours to update the Sterling Corporation’s quarterly presentation graphics—and now she was trapped in a room full of sharks.
“I don’t care about the merger’s optics,” Jasper Sterling declared, his voice carrying the practiced authority of a man who’d never been told no. The patriarch stood at the head of the mahogany table, seventy-two years old and still wearing power like a second skin. “Caden Blackwood wants an audience? Let him wait.”
The boardroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Manhattan skyline in cold February light. Twenty-three floors below, the city churned with indifferent energy. Nova adjusted her posture, trying to become invisible, her laptop clutched against her chest like a shield.
She shouldn’t be here.
The temp agency had promised a quiet cubicle. *”Data entry and design work, Miss Waverly. Nothing stressful.”* Instead, she’d been escorted to the executive floor by a man who looked like he’d rather be waterboarding someone. The Sterling family’s quarterly review had apparently shifted locations at the last minute, and someone had forgotten to tell the temp to leave.
“Mr. Sterling.” The attorney on Jasper’s right leaned forward. “Blackwood’s offering thirty-seven billion. If we don’t respond—”
“Then he’ll sweat.” Jasper’s eyes swept the room, cataloging faces like assets. “My son tells me we have leverage.”
Owen Sterling rose from his seat at the table’s midpoint. Thirty-four years old, tailored suit, hair styled with the precise carelessness that cost five hundred dollars a cut. He smiled, and Nova recognized the expression from every corporate predator she’d ever encountered—the smile of someone who’d never faced consequences.
“Father’s right.” Owen pressed a tablet, and the room’s wall monitors flickered to life. “Blackwood’s primary operating capital is tied to three venture funds. Two of them have major positions in Sterling subsidiaries. If we withdraw, his liquidity ratio collapses within seventy-two hours.”
The numbers scrolled across the screens. Nova’s eyes tracked them automatically—she’d been raised on spreadsheets, on survival math that her mother had taught her in the cramped kitchen of their Brooklyn walk-up. She saw the flaw before Owen finished speaking.
*The third fund.*
The boardroom’s temperature seemed to drop. Nova’s fingers tightened on her laptop. She could see it clearly—the third fund was the anchor. Without it, the first two were irrelevant. But Owen had ignored it, either through incompetence or deliberate misdirection.
“Impressive,” Jasper said, though his tone suggested the opposite. “But Blackwood’s already here. Let’s see what he’s willing to sacrifice.”
The doors opened.
Caden Blackwood walked in like he owned the building—which, Nova realized, he technically would if the merger went through. He was younger than she’d expected, maybe thirty-seven, with the kind of angular features that belonged on magazine covers and wanted posters equally. His suit was charcoal gray, perfectly cut, and his eyes swept the room with a precision that made her want to check her own posture.
He didn’t look at her.
No one looked at her. She was furniture. A temp. A disposable asset in a room full of perpetual motion machines.
“Jasper.” Caden’s voice was calm, almost pleasant. He took a seat at the table’s far end without waiting for an invitation. “I appreciate the warm welcome. The security guard on the fourteenth floor was particularly charming.”
“Blackwood.” Jasper didn’t offer a handshake. “Let’s skip the theater. You want Sterling Applied Technologies. I want to know why.”
Caden’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Because your company is hemorrhaging market share, and my firm has the infrastructure to fix it. You’re bleeding fifty million a quarter on legacy systems alone.”
“Allegedly.”
“Audited.” Caden slid a tablet across the table. “Your CFO’s been very cooperative. Apparently, he prefers prison to prison time.”
The room shifted. Owen’s smile faltered. Jasper’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, Nova saw the calculation happening behind his weathered face—the same math she’d done seconds ago, but from a different angle.
“The terms,” Jasper said flatly.
“Simple.” Caden leaned back, his posture comfortable, almost predatory. “I acquire Sterling Applied Technologies at current market valuation. The remaining Sterling assets remain untouched. I retain all key personnel.” He paused. “With one condition.”
Owen laughed. “There it is. What’s your price, Blackwood? Blood? Firstborn?”
“Marriage.”
The word landed like a bomb.
Silence. Then Owen’s laughter turned sharp, brittle. “You’re joking.”
“I don’t joke about contracts.” Caden’s gaze never left Jasper. “I need a wife. Within forty-eight hours. The Sterling family is going to provide one.”
“Impossible,” Jasper said.
“No.” Owen’s eyes lit with understanding. “Not impossible. There’s a clause in the preliminary merger documents—Sterling family legacy protections. Any Blackwood acquisition requires familial binding within the first generation. You need a Sterling bride.”
“I need a Sterling-approved bride,” Caden corrected. “The board requires the marriage to maintain continuity of operations. Your choice of candidate, as long as they’re approved by close of business tomorrow.”
“Forty-eight hours for a wedding,” Jasper said slowly. “You’re desperate.”
“You’re broke.” Caden’s voice was flat. “Let’s not pretend otherwise.”
The negotiation continued, a dance of numbers and threats that Nova tracked with growing unease. She shouldn’t be hearing this. This was the kind of information that got temps blacklisted, or worse. She needed to leave, needed to disappear into the crowd before someone remembered she existed.
She began edging toward the door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Owen’s voice cut through the room. Nova froze, her hand inches from the door handle. Every face turned toward her, and she felt the weight of their attention like a physical blow.
“I was just—” Her voice came out too quiet. She cleared her throat. “I was told to update the graphics. The quarterly review. I think I have what I need.”
“The quarterly review was rescheduled.” Owen’s smile was cold, calculating. “Didn’t anyone tell you?”
“I… no.” Nova’s fingers tightened on her laptop. “I can leave. I’ll bill for the day, but—”
“No, no.” Owen stepped toward her, his movements fluid and predatory. “Stay. I think you’re exactly what we need.”
“Owen.” Jasper’s voice carried a warning. “Don’t.”
“Think about it, Father. Blackwood needs a Sterling-approved bride. The clause says ‘a woman of suitable standing within the Sterling family sphere.’ It doesn’t say she has to be blood.”
The room went still.
Nova’s heart stopped. “I’m not—I don’t—”
“You’re a Sterling employee.” Owen was enjoying this. “On the payroll. Temp, yes, but legally contracted. And you’re single, aren’t you, Miss…?”
“Waverly,” she heard herself say. “Nova Waverly.”
“No.” The word came out before she could stop it.
Owen’s smile widened. “The sacrificial lamb. It’s perfect. Blackwood gets his bride, we maintain control of the merger terms, and the actual Sterling assets remain untouched. Everyone wins.”
“I’m not marrying anyone.” Nova’s voice rose, cracking at the edges. “This is insane. I’m a graphic designer. I have a son. I can’t—”
“A son?” Jasper’s attention sharpened. “You have a child?”
“I… yes. Noah. He’s eight.” Nova’s throat tightened. “Please. I just want to go home.”
“Send her home,” Caden said.
Everyone turned.
Caden Blackwood was looking at Nova for the first time, and the weight of his attention was different from Owen’s—less predatory, more curious. Something flickered behind his eyes, a calculation she couldn’t read.
“Find another candidate,” he said, returning his gaze to Jasper. “This isn’t a game.”
“It’s always a game,” Owen replied. “And you’ve already agreed to the terms. Sterling-approved bride, within forty-eight hours. The temp fits the requirements. Unless you’d like to explain to the board why you’re backing out of a contractually binding negotiation?”
Caden’s jaw didn’t tighten—Nova noticed that, noticed the careful control of his expression. Instead, his eyes shifted to the room’s exits, cataloging them with the precision of a man who’d learned to survive in hostile territory.
“The child,” he said finally. “Who has custody?”
“I do.” Nova’s voice steadied. “Full custody. His father isn’t in the picture.”
“And you work temp jobs.”
“Graphic design pays better when you freelance.” She didn’t add that the benefits were better, that she could be home when Noah got sick, that she’d built her entire life around being present for her son. She didn’t owe this man her story.
Caden was silent for a long moment. The clock on the wall ticked, each second a small hammer against Nova’s ribs. She could see the calculations behind his eyes, the weighing of options, the assessment of risk.
“Miss Waverly,” he said, and his voice was different now—softer, almost gentle. “If I go through with this, you and your son will be protected. Financially secure. You’ll want for nothing.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“I know.” He didn’t look away. “That’s why I’m offering it anyway.”
Owen laughed. “Charming. The billionaire plays hero. But we both know this is leverage, Blackwood. You need a bride to close the deal. We need someone expendable. It’s a perfect match.”
“Expendable?” Nova’s voice sharpened. “I’m not expendable. I’m a mother. I’m—”
“You’re a temp,” Owen cut in. “Replaceable. Disposable. The only question is whether you’re useful while you’re here.”
The words hit like ice water. Nova felt her vision narrow, felt the edges of the room closing in. She thought of Noah—his small hands, his serious eyes, the way he’d learned to read before kindergarten because she’d read to him every night. She thought of their apartment, the leaky faucet in the bathroom, the crack in the window that she’d never gotten around to fixing.
She thought of the bills.
“What do I get?” she heard herself ask.
Caden’s eyes met hers. “Name it.”
“Full medical coverage. For me and Noah. A trust fund for his education. And an apartment.” She swallowed. “A real apartment. With a door that locks.”
“Done.”
“And I want custody to remain solely mine. No interference. No visitation rights.”
“Done.”
“And I want…” Nova’s voice faltered. “I want a divorce. After the merger closes. Quiet. No drama.”
Caden was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded. “One year. After the merger, after the board is satisfied, I’ll sign whatever papers you need.”
“And I’m not changing my name.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Owen clapped slowly. “Bravo. The temp negotiates. Father, I think we have our bride.”
Jasper’s face was unreadable. “Miss Waverly. I apologize for my son’s theatrics. But the situation is what it is. Either you accept this arrangement, or Blackwood’s deal falls through, and Sterling Applied Technologies—along with eight thousand jobs—collapses.”
“That’s not my problem.”
“It becomes your problem when you’re the reason eight thousand families lose their income.” Jasper’s voice was cold. “I’m not blackmailing you, Miss Waverly. I’m informing you of consequences.”
Nova’s hands were shaking. She pressed them flat against her laptop, trying to still them. Eight thousand jobs. Eight thousand families. She thought of Noah’s school, of the other parents she knew, of the teachers who’d be affected.
“One year,” she said again.
“One year,” Caden confirmed.
“I want it in writing.”
“You’ll have it by morning.”
“And I want to see my son tonight.”
“Of course.” Caden stood, his movements fluid and controlled. “I’ll have a car take you home. We’ll discuss logistics tomorrow.”
“No.” Nova’s voice was firm. “I’ll take the subway. I need… I need a minute.”
She didn’t wait for permission. She pushed through the boardroom doors, her legs moving on autopilot, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The hallway stretched before her, empty and sterile, and she walked until she found a window, pressing her forehead against the cold glass.
The city spread below her, indifferent and vast. Somewhere in the chaos of Brooklyn, Noah was waiting for her. Noah, who still believed the world was safe, who still trusted that his mother could protect him.
She’d just sold herself to protect him. And she’d do it again. And again. And again.
The boardroom doors opened behind her. She didn’t turn around.
“Miss Waverly.”
Caden’s voice was quiet, almost apologetic. She felt his presence at her back, felt the warmth of him in the cold corridor.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t plan this.”
“I know.” Nova’s breath fogged the glass. “You’re just as trapped as I am.”
“More, probably.” A pause. “I’ll make sure you’re safe. That’s a promise.”
“You don’t owe me promises.”
“I owe you everything.” His voice was strange, almost raw. “You just saved my company. My legacy. My life’s work.”
“I saved my son.” Nova turned to face him. “Don’t mistake my motivation.”
Caden Blackwood looked at her, and for a moment, Nova saw something behind his careful mask—something tired, something almost hopeful.
“I won’t,” he said.
The elevator chimed in the distance. Nova pulled away from the window, her shoulders straight. She had to get home. She had to explain to Noah that mommy was getting married, that everything would be fine, that she would never, ever leave him.
She had to survive.
“Miss Waverly.”
She paused at the elevator doors.
Caden’s hand envelops Nova’s trembling fingers. “I accept. Miss Waverly, we’ll be married by Friday. Don’t be late.”