Part I
The jet carved across the Atlantic night, its cabin cast in muted gold. Clouds drifted below like sheets of unbroken glass. Evelyn sat upright, eyes fixed on nothing, the flicker of the cabin monitor painting silver along the edge of her jaw.
Luca studied her from across the aisle, expression unreadable. “We’ll land in two hours. No signal once we’re over Hartman Cay. You remember the protocol?”
She recited calmly: “Two‑way coms only. No open channels. Everything runs through your encryption.”
“Good.” He paused. “You ever been back since…?”
“Since they hid me there after the divorce?” Evelyn’s mouth tilted, humourless. “No. The island is a memory I didn’t ask to revisit.”
“Memories are safer than the people hunting you right now.”
“That depends,” she murmured, “on which memor
