Lia Foster doesn't remember faces — she remembers scents and touches, mapping out the contours of someone else's life from them. She turns dull presentations into instruments of hypnosis, and caring for a man into a ritual honed to perfection. Her colleagues find her strange, never suspecting that behind the tight bun and functional clothing hides a huntress who spent three years collecting evidence of another's unhappiness. Her love isn't an emotion — it's a strategy, planned down to the day and backed by compromising material on her work laptop. She isn't waiting for reciprocation: for her, there is only surrender, and she has already calculated every move. And the only thing that betrays the life within her is the heavy hoop earrings she twists in the very moment her plan finally falls into place.