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.

It picked up on the half-ring.

Where is she? A voice barked. It wasn't Baxter. It was Yates, his executive assistant.

She is safe, Eva said. She kept her voice low. She is at the south entrance of Central Park, near the statue.

Who is this?

Just get here. She is cold.

Eva hung up. She took off her own scarf and wrapped it around Eleanor's neck.

They are coming, Eleanor, she said.

Eleanor looked up. Don't leave me.

I have to.

No! Eleanor gripped Eva's hand tighter. He needs to see you. He needs to remember.

Eva shook her head. He won't believe me.

Sirens wailed in the distance. Black SUVs were jumping the curb onto the pedestrian path.

Eva's pulse spiked. If Baxter saw her here, he would think she kidnapped her. He would think it was a setup.

She gently pried Eleanor's fingers off her arm.

I promise, I will see you again, Eva lied.

She pulled a notepad from her bag. She scribbled a quick note.

She is dehydrated. And her left slipper is two sizes too small. It is hurting her foot.

She tucked the note into Eleanor's pocket.

The SUVs screeched to a halt fifty yards away. Doors flew open.

Eva bolted.

She ran behind the large bronze statue of Simon Bolivar. She crouched in the bushes, her heart thundering in her ears.

She watched as Baxter jumped out of the lead car. He wasn't wearing a suit jacket. His tie was undone. He looked frantic. Human.

He ran to the bench. Grandma!

He fell to his knees in the dirt. He checked her face, her hands. He hugged her so tight Eva thought he might break her.

Eleanor pushed him away. Where is the girl?

What girl? Baxter asked, looking around.

The bride! The scientist! She was just here!

Baxter looked at his security team. Find her!

Eleanor started to cry. She left. You scared her away!

Baxter shushed her, stroking her hair. It is okay. You are safe.

Yates walked up. He saw the paper sticking out of Eleanor's pocket.

Sir.

Baxter took the note. He read it.

He looked up, scanning the park. His eyes swept over the statue where Eva was hiding.

Eva held her breath. She pressed her hand over her mouth.

Baxter stared right at the bushes for a long, terrifying second. His eyes narrowed, trying to pierce the shadows. He didn't see a face, just a suggestion of movement.

Then, he looked back at the note. He traced the handwriting with his thumb. It was neat, angular. Familiar?

Let's go, Baxter said. He picked his grandmother up in his arms, carrying her like she weighed nothing.

They loaded into the cars. The convoy sped away.

Eva slumped against the cold bronze of the statue. Her legs were shaking.

She had been ten seconds away from being caught.

She looked at her hand. It still felt warm where Eleanor had held it.

She stood up, brushing the dirt off her dress.

She was homeless. She was broke. And she was technically a fugitive from her husband's wrath.

But she had seen something.

Baxter Noel had knees that got dirty. He had hands that trembled when he was scared.

He wasn't a monster. He was a man.

And men could be broken.