Elise Harper stood in the coworking space downtown on Thursday morning, the faint hum of New Haven's waking streets filtering through the rain-streaked windows. The storm from Wednesday night had softened into a drizzle, leaving the city draped in a gray veil that matched the unease settling over her. The shared victory with Julian Voss—the merged hybrid design they'd locked down and sent to Claire Nguyen before dawn—should have been a moment of triumph, a lifeline for the waterfront project amidst the plagiarism leak's fallout. But the weight of Mia's latest find—Daniel Reese's rejected waterfront pitch from five years ago, eerily similar to the leak's screenshot—cast a shadow over it, a thread linking the current crisis to the tech deal betrayal she'd confronted Julian about. Today was about solidifying that win with Claire, but it was also about chasing the past that kept resurfacing, and Elise was ready to pull it apart.
She arrived early, her blazer crisp despite the sleepless hours, her tablet and a slim folder of Mia's evidence tucked under her arm. The space was quieter than usual, the joint team of Pinnacle Designs and Voss & Associates trickling in with subdued energy—Pinnacle staff clustering near her, Voss's crew keeping their distance after yesterday's fracture. Tara sat at the table, her tablet open to the PR rebuttal that had hit the press at noon Wednesday—a technical breakdown debunking the plagiarism claims, paired with a timeline of their original work. It had stemmed the bleeding, quieting some of the public outrage, but the board's trust was still shaky, and Claire's meeting today would test their footing. Julian entered a moment later, his charcoal suit sharp but his expression drawn, the fatigue of their late-night collaboration etched into the lines around his gray eyes. He nodded at her, a silent acknowledgment of their truce, and took a seat across the table, his leather case at his side.
Claire strode in at nine, her presence cutting through the room's murmur like a blade. She carried a thick folder, her sharp eyes sweeping the team before settling on Elise and Julian. "PR's holding the line," she said, her voice crisp and commanding. "The rebuttal's working—public's cooling off, board's less panicked. Your hybrid's still in play—towers, walkways, blocks, berms. I've got preliminary approval for the full proposal, but it's conditional. They want proof this leak's dead, and they want it fast. Status?"
Elise stood, her voice steady as she tapped her tablet to project the merged design—the towers with their bold terraces, the walkways weaving through Julian's refined blocks, the berms a faint backup. "We locked it last night," she said, sliding Tara's updated engineering report across the table. "Towers lead—five hubs, sustainable, eye-catching. Walkways at twelve percent over—optimized for flood resilience and flow. Blocks at ten percent under—modular, phased, tight. Berms as fallback, cut to five percent below. It's leaner, stronger, ready for the board."
Claire skimmed the report, her brow furrowing as she absorbed the numbers, then nodded. "Good. It's tighter than Monday—shows you're serious. Julian?"
He rose, his tone calm but carrying a quiet resolve. "Elise's tweaks sharpened it—towers pop, walkways tie it together. My blocks anchor it—speed and cost still hold. Berms are there if the board flinches, but they're secondary. We're synced—one pitch, one voice. It's sellable now."
Elise felt a flicker of irritation at his sellable—a nod to his pragmatism—but she held her tongue. Claire studied the screen, then the report, her expression softening just enough to signal approval. "Solid," she said, setting the papers down. "This stays alive—full proposal in three weeks, no excuses. But the leak's still a ghost. Where are we on that?"
The room tensed, eyes darting between Elise and Julian. Tara spoke first, her voice firm. "PR's tracing the article's source—anonymous tip, no hard leads yet. Could be a rival firm, someone who lost the shortlist."
"Could be," Claire said, her gaze shifting to Elise. "You've got theories, Harper—spill it."
Elise took a breath, her hand brushing the folder of Mia's evidence. She'd kept Reese's name close, a card she wasn't ready to play with Julian in the room—not after their clash—but Claire's demand left little room for evasion. "It's tied to the past," she said, her voice low and sharp. "Three years ago, Voss & Associates undercut me on a tech deal—uninvited pitch, meetings I wasn't privy to. I've got proof—emails, logs, audio. Someone from that mess could be hitting back now, using the leak to drag us both down."
Julian's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with a mix of frustration and defiance as he leaned forward. "We've been over this, Elise," he said, his voice low but firm. "I didn't know you were still in it—they told me your pitch was dead. If this is fallout, it's not my move—it's theirs."
"Save it," she snapped, her tone cutting through his calm. "You reached out first—March 14th, pitched the 15th, while I was still locked in. Don't play innocent when the evidence says otherwise."
Claire raised a hand, her voice sharp. "Enough. I don't care who stabbed who back then—I care who's stabbing us now. You've got a name?"
Elise hesitated, her instinct screaming to hold Reese back, but the project's survival trumped her grudge—for now. "Daniel Reese," she said, sliding Mia's folder to Claire. "Ex-mogul team, now at Harrington & Co.—lost the shortlist to us. Pitched a waterfront concept five years ago, rejected, matches the leak's screenshot. Motive's there—revenge for then, spite for now."
Claire opened the folder, her eyes narrowing as she scanned Reese's bio and the old email signature. "Harrington & Co.," she muttered, then looked up. "Thin, but plausible. Julian?"
He leaned back, his expression unreadable as he processed the name. "Reese," he said slowly, his voice thoughtful. "Rings a bell—mogul's lead, yeah. If he's at Harrington now, he'd have reason to hit us—lost the bid, old scars. Could be him."
Elise stared at him, searching for a lie, but his tone held no evasion—just a grim recognition that stung her more than she'd admit. Claire nodded, closing the folder. "Alright—Reese is our lead. PR digs into Harrington—quietly. You two—" she pointed at Elise and Julian "—cross-check your contacts, nail this down. Team's still split; fix it. We've got three weeks—don't waste them arguing."
The meeting broke, the team dispersing into strained silence, but Elise lingered, her eyes on Mia as the junior architect approached with a hesitant step. "More?" Elise asked, her voice hushed.
Mia nodded, handing over a single page—a screenshot of an encrypted email from Reese to an unknown recipient, dated two days before the leak. "Cracked it this morning," she whispered. "Says, They'll pay for '03 and now—tip's ready. No name, but it's him."
Elise took the page, her pulse spiking as she folded it into her portfolio. "Gold," she said, her voice a growl. "Keep digging—link it to the article. We've got him pinned."
Mia slipped away, and Elise sank into her chair, her mind racing. Reese was the ghost—burned by the tech deal, spurned by the shortlist, now striking back with a leak that echoed his old flop. The screenshot was a lifeline, a thread she'd weave into a noose, but Julian's presence loomed—his grudging admission, his shared stake in this fight. She didn't trust him—couldn't, not with the past blazing between them—but Claire's orders bound them, and Reese was a foe they'd face together.
Julian approached then, his leather case in hand, stopping a few feet away. "Reese, huh?" he said, his voice low, strained. "Didn't see that coming."
"Should've," she replied, her tone icy as she stood, gathering her things. "Your move back then lit this fuse—I just found the match."
He took a breath, his jaw tightening as he met her glare. "Maybe," he said, his voice quieter now. "But I didn't plant it—I took what they gave me. If Reese is the leak, we stop him together. Truce still holds?"
Elise stared at him, the rain's patter filling the silence, her chest tight with a mix of fury and pragmatism. The past had resurfaced, a wound she couldn't close, but the project demanded more than her anger—it demanded their unity, however uneasy. "For now," she said at last, her voice cold. "We nail Reese, save the bid. After that, all bets are off."
"Fair enough," he replied, his half-smile gone, replaced by a grim resolve. "I'll check my logs—see if Reese left tracks. You?"
"Got my own leads," she said, brushing past him toward the door. "We'll sync tomorrow."
He nodded, letting her go, and Elise stepped into the drizzle, her resolve a shield against the chaos. The hybrid glowed in her mind—towers, walkways, blocks—a victory she'd protect, a stage she'd claim. Reese was the past breaking through, a ghost she'd banish, and Julian was a shadow she'd outlast. The full proposal loomed, three weeks away, and she'd make it hers—with or without him.
Back at Pinnacle, Elise spread Mia's screenshot across her desk, diving into the hunt with a ferocity that drowned out the day's noise. The rain faded, the city quieting beyond the windows, but her focus burned bright—Reese would fall, and she'd rise.