Elise Harper stood in the coworking space downtown on Tuesday morning, her heart pounding with a mix of triumph and simmering rage as she prepared to face the aftermath of yesterday's pitch. The gray sky over New Haven had darkened into a brooding mass of clouds, the air thick with the promise of rain that echoed the storm brewing inside her. She'd spent Monday night restless, replaying the pitch she and Julian Voss had delivered to Claire Nguyen—a hybrid design of her towering vision and his grounded blocks, walkways leading and berms in reserve, a unified front that had earned a nod of approval from Claire before she'd taken it to the board. It was a victory, a polished pitch that balanced their uneasy alliance, but it felt hollow against the weight of Mia's latest find: the email proving Julian had moved against her three years ago, uninvited, a deliberate strike that shattered his claim of innocence.
She'd arrived early, her blazer sharp and her ponytail tighter than usual, Tara's engineering report and her tablet clutched like weapons. The space hummed with nervous energy—Pinnacle Designs and Voss & Associates staff milling about, their voices a low buzz as they awaited Claire's verdict. Elise took her seat near the front, her eyes flicking to Julian across the room. He stood by the window, his navy suit crisp, his posture relaxed as he sipped coffee and chatted with one of his architects. He glanced her way, offering a faint smile that carried their truce, but it only fueled her fire. The audio clip, the meeting logs, and now that email—Voss & Assoc. reached out yesterday with a counterproposal—burned in her mind, a truth she could no longer ignore. Today wasn't just about the pitch's outcome; it was about confronting the past she'd unearthed, and she was ready.
Claire strode in at ten, her presence silencing the room as she took her place at the head of the table, a slim folder in hand instead of her usual tablet. Her sharp eyes swept the team, lingering on Elise and Julian before she spoke. "The board reviewed your pitch last night," she said, her voice crisp and direct. "They're impressed—towers, walkways, blocks, berms. It's bold, it's feasible, and the numbers hold. They've greenlit the next phase—full proposal in three weeks. Good work."
A murmur of relief rippled through the room, Tara flashing Elise a quick grin from across the table, Mia's shoulders visibly relaxing. Elise felt a surge of pride—her towers had survived, her walkways had won out over Julian's berms as the lead option—but it was tempered by the storm inside her. Claire continued, outlining timelines and tasks, but Elise's focus drifted, her gaze locking on Julian. He nodded at Claire's words, his expression calm, almost pleased, and it twisted something in her chest. He'd stood beside her yesterday, pitched as her ally, while the truth of his betrayal sat heavy in her portfolio, a secret she'd held back until now.
The meeting broke shortly after, Claire leaving with a final nod of approval, and the team scattered into smaller groups to tackle the next steps. Elise stayed put, her tablet open but untouched, her mind racing. Tara approached, leaning close. "We did it," she said, her voice low and warm. "Your walkways sealed it—twelve percent over didn't scare them off."
"Barely," Elise replied, forcing a smile. "Julian's berms are still lurking as Plan B. We're not out of the woods yet."
"You'll bury them in the full proposal," Tara said, clapping her shoulder before heading off to wrangle the engineers. Elise nodded, but her attention shifted as Julian approached, his leather case in hand, stopping a few feet from her.
"Solid win," he said, his tone light but genuine. "Your walkways carried it—Claire bought the long-term pitch. Didn't think we'd pull it off so clean."
She met his gaze, her expression cool, masking the fury bubbling beneath. "We did," she said, her voice steady. "But there's something else we need to settle."
He tilted his head, his half-smile fading as he caught the edge in her tone. "What's that?"
Elise stood, pulling the folded email from her portfolio and sliding it across the table with a deliberate calm. "This," she said, her voice low and sharp. "March 16th, three years ago. Your firm sent an uninvited counterproposal to the tech mogul's team—two days after your meeting with them, four days before I lost the deal. You didn't wait for them to come to you, Julian. You moved first."
He froze, his eyes dropping to the email, scanning the faded text—Voss & Assoc. reached out yesterday with a counterproposal—faster timeline, lower risk. For a moment, he was silent, his jaw tightening, and when he looked up, his calm had cracked, replaced by something harder, more guarded. "Where'd you get this?" he asked, his voice low.
"Doesn't matter," she snapped, stepping closer, her hands curling into fists at her sides. "What matters is you lied. In that coffee shop, you said it wasn't personal, that the client came to you. But you reached out—uninvited—while I was still pitching. You knew I was in the game, and you cut me out."
Julian straightened, setting his case down, his gray eyes locking on hers with an intensity that matched her own. "It wasn't like that," he said, his tone firm but tinged with something she couldn't place—regret, maybe, or defiance. "Yes, we reached out. I won't deny it. But I didn't know your pitch was still alive—they told me you'd missed a deadline, that it was already slipping. I saw an opening and took it."
"Bullshit," she shot back, her voice rising despite the room around them. "I didn't miss anything—I sent revisions on the 12th, got feedback on the 13th. You met them on the 14th, pitched on the 15th—I've got the audio, Julian. They were still reviewing me when you swooped in. You didn't see an opening; you made one."
His expression shifted, surprise flickering before settling into a tight line. "Audio?" he repeated, his voice quieter now. "You've been digging."
"Damn right I have," she said, her chest heaving as the anger she'd held back for days poured out. "Meeting logs, emails, a recording—they strung me along while you pushed your way in. It wasn't business, it was personal, and you've been coasting on it ever since. So don't stand there acting like we're allies when you've got my blood on your hands."
The room had gone still, the buzz of conversation fading as heads turned their way, but Elise didn't care. Julian glanced around, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Elise, listen—I didn't know the full picture. They fed me a line, said your pitch was dead. Was it a clean move? No. But I didn't target you—I targeted the deal. If I'd known you were still in it—"
"You'd have done the same thing," she cut in, her voice cold. "Don't play the martyr. You saw a chance to win, and you took it, no matter who was in the way. That's who you are."
He stared at her, his jaw working as if he wanted to argue, but something in her eyes—fury, hurt, unyielding resolve—stopped him. He took a breath, then nodded, slow and deliberate. "Maybe you're right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I'd have done if I'd known. But I'm not that guy anymore—not with this. We're in this together now, and I'm not screwing you over again."
She laughed, a short, bitter sound that echoed off the brick walls. "Together? You think a pitch changes three years of this? I don't trust you, Julian—not now, not ever. I'll work with you because I have to, but don't mistake it for anything more."
He held her gaze, his expression unreadable, then picked up his case. "Fair enough," he said, stepping back. "You've got your win today—take it. We'll figure out the rest later."
He walked off, leaving her standing there, her blood pounding in her ears. She watched him go, his silhouette cutting through the crowd, and felt the truth break fully inside her—a wound laid bare, a fight she'd won in words if not in closure. The pitch had landed, her design had survived, but this was personal now, a reckoning she couldn't unsee.
Mia approached then, her freckled face pale as she clutched her laptop. "I saw that," she whispered, glancing after Julian. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Elise lied, sinking back into her chair and folding the email into her portfolio. "Keep digging—there's more. I need it all."
Mia nodded, slipping away, and Elise opened her tablet, staring at the hybrid design that had carried the day. The towers loomed, the walkways held—a victory she'd fought for, a stage she'd claimed. But Julian's words lingered—I'm not that guy anymore—and she pushed them aside, her resolve hardening. Trust was off the table, but the project wasn't. She'd see it through, win it outright, and when Mia's digging was done, she'd bury him with the past he couldn't outrun.
The rain started outside, a soft patter against the windows, and Elise dove back into the work, her focus a shield against the chaos. Today was a win, but tomorrow was a war—and she'd be ready.