“Eva Chen. Crisis response, international tier," the receptionist said with admiration. “Dr. Hayes is lucky to have you."
Eva offered a polite smile. “He keeps reminding me."
The glass elevator hummed as it ascended Canary Wharf Tower, revealing the London skyline etched against early evening clouds. Eva adjusted her sleek blazer and checked her reflection. Calm, composed, focused—everything she'd built over five years.
She had no memory of anything before the fire.
---
**“Nightmares again?"**
Lucas Hayes handed her a cup of ginger tea as she sank onto their sofa.
Eva nodded. “Same fragments. Heat. A voice I can't place."
“Trauma can create false composites," he said gently. “The brain tries to make sense of missing years."
She looked at him. “You're the neuroscientist."
“And you
