Chapter 175: Eliza Warren

Eliza Warren was thirty-four years old.

She had studied computational linguistics, dropped out before completing her doctorate, and later worked for several small data companies.

For the past three years, her public employment history was almost empty.

Her last known address had been abandoned six months earlier.

Her bank activity was minimal.

Her phone number was disconnected.

Derek described her as "professionally difficult to find."

Freya thought that sounded deliberate.

Investigators interviewed former classmates.

Eliza was remembered as brilliant, intense, and socially distant.

She had been fascinated by narrative prediction long before joining Crosswind's beta program.

One professor remembered an argument in which Eliza claimed that sufficiently detailed stories could model human behavior better than surveys because people revealed themselves through the endings they expected.

Freya did not like that sentence.

Claire remembered more once Eliza's name was confirmed.

"She hated fixed endings."

That surprised Freya.

Eliza repeatedly complained that adaptive stories only offered cosmetic choices while preserving the author's intended conclusion.

She wanted stories capable of escaping their creators.

Louis looked at Freya.

"That sounds familiar."

"Don't."

Investigators found another connection.

After leaving Crosswind, Eliza had briefly consulted for a company later acquired by one of Greyline's shell corporations.

She may have gained access to Northwind research without ever formally working for Adrian.

That could explain how Bailey's old branch experiments and Adrian's behavioral models became connected.

It could also explain the detailed books.

Eliza had knowledge of both systems.

Freya asked whether she was dangerous.

No one could answer yet.

The threatening language around the books was unsettling, but Eliza had not directly threatened physical harm.

The hotel note—Three rules won't be enough—could be intimidation or warning.

Louis preferred assuming the worst.

Freya preferred evidence.

They compromised by increasing security.

At Sunroom, Freya attempted to focus on a bookstore renovation.

She failed.

Her mind kept returning to Eliza.

A woman who hated fixed endings.

A reader who asked what happened if Freya remembered another world.

A researcher adjacent to two systems that tried to predict people.

What did she want now?

That evening, an email arrived through Freya's attorney.

No spoofing.

No hidden relay.

The sender identified herself plainly.

Eliza Warren.

Subject: YOU FOUND THE WRONG QUESTION.

The message contained only four lines.

I am Bailey Shepard.

I sent the books.

I did not bring you here.

If you want to know who did, stop looking at me.

Investigators verified that the email originated from a newly created account but found no immediate location data.

Freya read the final line again.

For months she had wondered who Bailey was.

Apparently Bailey wanted her to wonder about someone else.

Louis quietly asked security to check whether Eliza had ever approached Freya physically. No evidence suggested she had. The hotel footage remained the closest confirmed appearance, which meant the surveillance was invasive but mostly digital. Freya still considered that more than enough.

Freya recorded the facts separately from her assumptions and continued with the next practical step. That habit had become one of the strongest protections she possessed. A dramatic explanation could wait; evidence could not. Louis understood the difference, and together they refused to let uncertainty turn ordinary decisions into reactions to a story neither of them had chosen.

Freya recorded the facts separately from her assumptions and continued with the next practical step. That habit had become one of the strongest protections she possessed. A dramatic explanation could wait; evidence could not. Louis understood the difference, and together they refused to let uncertainty turn ordinary decisions into reactions to a story neither of them had chosen.

Freya recorded the facts separately from her assumptions and continued with the next practical step. That habit had become one of the strongest protections she possessed. A dramatic explanation could wait; evidence could not. Louis understood the difference, and together they refused to let uncertainty turn ordinary decisions into reactions to a story neither of them had chosen.