Arthur practically ran down the steps. His dignity was gone, replaced by a fawning desperation that made Eva want to look away.

Mr. Noel! Arthur said, extending a hand. What an honor. An absolute honor.

Baxter stopped. He looked at Arthur's hand for a second too long before giving it a brief, firm shake. He didn't smile. His eyes were like chips of flint.

Mcclain, Baxter said. His voice was a low baritone that seemed to vibrate in the floorboards. I was in the area. Jimmy mentioned the engagement.

Of course, of course! Arthur beamed. He gestured wildly behind him. You know the family.

Isobel stepped forward. She had composed herself, pushing her chest out, putting on her best socialite smile. Baxter, she purred. It is so good to see you again.

Baxter glanced at her. He didn't blink. Have we met?

Isobel's smile faltered. At the... the fundraiser? Last month?

Baxter looked away, dismissing her entirely. He scanned the room. He looked bored. He looked dangerous.

Eva stood in the shadow of the staircase. She didn't move. She held her breath.

Arthur cleared his throat. And, uh, my other daughter...

He turned to gesture at Eva.

Eva stepped out of the shadow.

Baxter's gaze landed on her.

For a heartbeat, nothing happened. He looked at her face. He looked at the black slip dress. He looked at her bare shoulders.

There was no recognition in his eyes. No spark of memory.

But there was something else. A flicker of interest. The kind of interest a wolf shows when it spots movement in the brush. A sense of déjà vu that he couldn't quite place, nagging at the edge of his perception.

Eva felt her heart hammering against her ribs.

Arthur was sweating. Is... is your wife not with you tonight? he asked, his voice trembling with the weight of the gamble.

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees.

Baxter turned his head slowly to look at Arthur.

My wife? he repeated. The word sounded foreign in his mouth.

Arthur paled. Uh, yes. Eva said...

Baxter laughed. It was a short, sharp sound. "I am not currently traveling with a wife, Mcclain. And certainly not one you've met."

The air left the room.

Isobel let out a gasp of triumph. Dianne closed her eyes. Arthur looked like he was having a stroke.

Baxter turned back to Eva. He took a step toward her.

He didn't know who she was. He thought she was just another Mcclain daughter trying to climb the ladder, or perhaps a scam artist trying to leverage a rumor.

Eva didn't wait for the explosion. She turned and walked toward the French doors leading to the terrace. She needed air. She needed to escape before Arthur killed her.

She pushed the doors open and stepped out into the cold night. She walked to the far end of the stone balcony, leaning against the balustrade, gasping for breath.

The door opened behind her.

She smelled him before she saw him. Cedar. Expensive tobacco. And the crisp scent of winter air clinging to wool.

She turned.

Baxter was standing there. He had followed her.

He took a silver case from his pocket and tapped out a cigarette. He didn't light it. He just rolled it between his fingers.

Nice try inside, he said. He wasn't looking at her. He was looking at the dark lawn.

Eva wrapped her arms around herself. I wasn't trying anything.

He turned his head. His eyes locked onto hers. You are the sister, right? The one they keep in the attic?

Something like that.

He took a step closer. He was too big for the space. His presence was overwhelming.

Your father seems to think we are related, Baxter said softly. He leaned in, invading her personal space. Why would he think that?

Eva looked up at him. She saw the hard line of his jaw. The scar near his temple that the magazines usually photoshopped out.

Because we are, she said.

She reached into her dress. It was a risky move. His eyes tracked her hand, his body tensing like he expected a weapon.

She pulled out the paper. She unfolded it and held it up.

The moonlight hit the page.

Baxter looked at it. He didn't take it at first. He just read.

His expression didn't change. Not a muscle twitched.

Then, he looked at her. Really looked at her.

How much? he asked.

Eva blinked. What?

How much do you want? Baxter asked. His voice was bored again. For the forgery. It is good work. The seal looks authentic. So, how much to make it go away? Ten thousand? Twenty?

Eva felt like he had slapped her.

It is real, she said.

Baxter chuckled darkly. He moved so fast she didn't see it coming. He pinned her against the stone railing. He wasn't hurting her, but he was caging her in with his arms.

Listen to me, he whispered. His face was inches from hers. I don't get blackout drunk. I don't make mistakes. And I definitely don't marry women who look like...

He trailed off. His eyes dropped to her lips, then back up.

Like what? Eva challenged.

Like trouble, he finished.

Eva stared up at him. The heat radiating from his body was the only warm thing in the world.

Check the date, she said. September fourteenth. The Bellagio. You were there for the Energy Summit.

Baxter's eyes narrowed slightly. A micro-expression of doubt.

I was there, he admitted. But I didn't get married.

You were drugged, Eva said.

Baxter froze. His hands, which were resting on the railing on either side of her, tightened.

What did you say?

Someone slipped something into your drink, Eva said. I saw the toxicology report. Or rather, I saw the gap in your memory where the report should be.

Who are you? Baxter asked. The boredom was gone. Now, he was lethal.

I am your wife, Eva said. Legally. And right now, I am the only person telling you the truth.

Baxter reached out and snatched the paper from her hand. He stared at it again, his thumb tracing the embossed seal.

He made a move to fold it, to slide it into his pocket.

"No," Eva said.

Before he could secure it, Eva lunged. It was a desperate, ungraceful move, but she caught him off guard. She grabbed the edge of the document and yanked it back.

Baxter let it go, surprised by her ferocity.

"That stays with me," Eva said, backing away, clutching the paper to her chest. "It's my only insurance."

Baxter looked at his empty hand, then at her. A grudging respect flickered in his eyes.

"Insurance against what?" he asked low.

"Against you," she replied.

The balcony door burst open.

Isobel stumbled out, flanked by Jimmy. She was holding a fresh glass of wine.

There you are! Isobel shrieked. Oh my god, Eva, leave him alone!

Baxter stepped back from Eva instantly. He smoothed his jacket, the mask of cold indifference slamming back into place.

Isobel rushed forward, grabbing Baxter's arm. I am so sorry, Baxter. My sister is... well, she has always been a pathological liar. It is a condition.

Baxter looked down at Isobel's hand on his sleeve. He looked at it like it was a cockroach.

Is that so? he said.

Yes! Isobel laughed nervously. She probably told you some crazy story. Daddy is so embarrassed.

Baxter looked at Eva. Eva stood straight, her chin lifted. She didn't defend herself. She didn't beg. She held the marriage license tight against her heart.

Baxter felt a strange tug in his chest. A reluctance to let the moment end. But the chaos of the family was repulsive to him. And the woman... she was a puzzle piece that didn't fit. He needed to verify the document number before he engaged further.

He looked at Jimmy. We are leaving.

But Uncle Baxter, Jimmy whined. We just got here.

Now, Baxter said.

He turned to leave. He didn't look at Eva again.

Wait! Arthur came running out onto the balcony. Mr. Noel! The certificate... surely it is a misunderstanding...

Baxter stopped at the door. He turned. He looked at the Mcclain family. The desperate father. The vicious stepmother. The screeching sister.

And Eva. Standing alone in the cold, in a dress that was too thin, looking like a queen in exile.

If she contacts me again, Baxter said, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear, I will have her arrested for fraud.

Eva flinched. It was small, but he saw it.

Baxter walked out.

The moment the door closed, Dianne was on her.

You stupid, useless girl!

She grabbed Eva's arm, her nails digging in. You ruined it! You humiliated us!

Arthur was pacing, muttering about stock prices. Isobel was smirking.

Eva pulled her arm free.

I am leaving, she said.

Good! Dianne screamed. Get out! And don't come back until you have fixed this!

Eva walked past them. She went to her room. She packed her single bag. She took the few dollars she had left.

She walked out the front door. The taillights of Baxter's motorcade were fading in the distance.

She took out her phone. A text from Ed.

Found something else. The drug in his system? It wasn't recreational. It was a prototype sedative. And Eva... you had it in your system too.

Eva stopped walking. The wind whipped her hair across her face.

She looked at the message.

She hadn't just been drunk. They had both been targeted.

She looked back at the house. It was glowing with warmth and lies.

She turned her back on it and started walking toward the train station. She had no husband. She had no home.

But she had a puzzle. And Eva Rose never left a puzzle unsolved.

New York City at six a.m. was a gray, hostile beast. Eva sat on a bench in Central Park, clutching a paper cup of coffee that had gone cold an hour ago.

Her suitcase was at her feet. She had spent the last of her cash on a storage locker for her heavier clothes. Now, she just had her laptop bag and the clothes on her back.

She watched the joggers go by. They looked so purposeful. So secure.

Her phone buzzed. It was an automated email from the university. Payment due.

She closed her eyes.

A commotion nearby made her look up.

Near the hot dog cart, a small crowd had gathered. People were holding up phones, filming.

Eva stood up, her curiosity piquing. She walked closer.

In the center of the circle was an old woman. She was wearing a silk nightgown under a heavy fur coat that was buttoned wrong. She was wearing one slipper and one sneaker.

She was shouting at a pigeon.

Get away! The variable is unstable!

The hot dog vendor was waving a pair of tongs. Lady, move along! You are scaring the customers!

The woman grabbed the vendor's umbrella. The hydrogen bonds! They are breaking!

Eva froze.

She knew that voice. She knew that coat.

It was Grand Dame Noel. Baxter's grandmother. The matriarch of the Noel family.

Eva pushed through the crowd. Stop filming! she snapped at a teenager.

She approached the woman slowly. Mrs. Noel?

The old woman spun around. Her eyes were milky with cataracts, but they were sharp with panic.

Who are you? Are you the catalyst?

Eva held up her hands. No. I am... I am a scientist.

The woman's face softened. A scientist? Did you fix the equation?

Eva glanced at the vendor. Give me a water, she said.

She handed the bottle to the woman. Mrs. Noel took it with shaking hands.

She looked at Eva. She tilted her head.

I know you, she whispered.

Eva's heart skipped. You do?

The woman smiled. It was a beatific, childlike smile. You are the variable. The missing integer. I've seen the shape of you in the equations.

Eva frowned. She had expected recognition, but this was just the rambling of a brilliant mind lost in dementia.

"I'm just Eva," she said softly.

"No," the woman insisted, gripping Eva's hand with surprising strength. "You are the one who stabilizes the grid. I feel the static coming off you."

The crowd laughed. Someone shouted, Good luck with that!

Eva ignored them. She saw the medical bracelet on the woman's wrist. Memory Care Unit. Do Not Resuscitate.

We need to get you home, Eva said gently.

No! The woman stamped her foot. Baxter is mean. He took my lab away.

Eva felt a pang of sympathy. She knew what it was like to have your work taken away.

He is just worried about you, Eva said. Come on. Let's sit down.

She led the woman to a bench away from the crowd. The woman clung to Eva's arm like a lifeline.

My name is Eleanor, the woman said. Not Mrs. Noel. That was my mother-in-law. Horrible woman.

Eva smiled. Okay, Eleanor.

Eleanor leaned her head on Eva's shoulder. You smell like solder and lemon, she murmured. Just like a proper lab.

Eva stiffened. She hadn't been in a lab for days.

Eleanor closed her eyes. Don't let him ruin you, my dear. He has a heart of stone, my grandson. But you... you can crack it.

Eva looked down at the old woman. She felt a sudden, fierce protectiveness. This was the only family Baxter had. The only person he supposedly loved.

And here she was, lost in the park, finding comfort in the enemy.

Eva pulled out her phone. She hesitated. Calling the police would mean questions. Calling Baxter...

She didn't have his number.

She looked at the bracelet again. There was an emergency number.

She dialed.