Chapter 7: Infiltration

My hands are shaking as I adjust the diamond necklace adorning my neck. It's worth more than my annual salary, but tonight, it's just a prop in this elaborate charade. I catch Ethan's eye in the limousine's tinted window, his steely gaze a reminder of what's at stake.

"Ready, Mrs. Drake?" he asks, his voice low and steady.

I nod, swallowing hard. "As I'll ever be."

The car door opens, and we step out into a sea of camera flashes. The Annual Tech Innovators Gala – our first public appearance as husband and wife. I plaster on a smile, squeezing Ethan's arm as we navigate the red carpet.

"Mr. and Mrs. Drake!" a reporter shouts. "How does it feel to be the power couple of Silicon Valley?"

Ethan chuckles, his arm snaking around my waist. "We're just getting started," he says with a wink.

If only they knew.

Inside, the ballroom is a glittering spectacle of wealth and influence. CEOs, investors, and tech visionaries mingle, their laughter tinkling like the champagne in their crystal flutes. I scan the room, my economist's brain cataloging faces and connections.

"There," Ethan whispers, his breath warm against my ear. "Arnold Voss, CEO of QuantumLeap Industries."

I spot our target – a portly man with a combover, holding court near the bar. According to our intel, he's the key to uncovering more about the quantum computer project.

"Let's mingle," I murmur, leading Ethan towards a group of familiar faces.

For the next hour, we work the room like a well-oiled machine. I laugh at jokes that aren't funny, feign interest in golf handicaps, and deflect questions about our whirlwind romance. All the while, my mind is racing, processing every snippet of conversation for valuable intel.

"Olivia, darling," a syrupy voice calls out. I turn to see Vanessa Hartley, wife of a prominent venture capitalist. "That dress is divine. Valentino?"

"Good eye," I reply, smoothing down the crimson silk. "How are you, Vanessa?"

As she prattles on about her recent trip to the Maldives, I feel a sudden tingling in my fingertips. The room blurs for a moment, and then—

Flash. 

Numbers flood my vision. Stock prices, market trends, a dizzying array of financial data. Just as quickly as it came, the vision fades.

"Olivia?" Vanessa's voice sounds distant. "Are you alright? You look pale."

I blink rapidly, forcing a smile. "Just a bit warm in here. If you'll excuse me, I need some air."

I make my way to a secluded balcony, gripping the railing as I try to steady my breathing. These visions are becoming more frequent, more intense. What's happening to me?

"Quite a view, isn't it?" a gravelly voice says behind me.

I whirl around to find Arnold Voss himself, a tumbler of whiskey in his meaty hand.

"Mr. Voss," I say, extending my hand. "Olivia Drake. It's a pleasure to meet you."

He grasps my hand, his palm sweaty. "Ah, the new Mrs. Drake. Your husband's been making waves with that new quantum encryption technology."

I laugh lightly. "Oh, you know I can't discuss company secrets."

"Of course, of course," he chuckles. "But between us economists, what do you make of the market's reaction?"

This is my opening. I launch into an analysis, carefully weaving in questions about quantum computing's potential impact. Voss's eyes light up, and he leans in closer.

"You know," he says, lowering his voice, "we're working on something at QuantumLeap that's going to change everything. The processing power... it's beyond anything you can imagine."

My heart races. This is it. "Oh? Do tell."

But before he can continue, a commotion erupts inside the ballroom. Shouts and the sound of breaking glass reach us on the balcony.

"What the devil?" Voss mutters, turning towards the noise.

I peer inside, my blood running cold at what I see. Three masked figures, armed with sleek weapons I don't recognize, are corralling the guests into the center of the room. Ethan catches my eye from across the space, his face a mask of tension.

"Mr. Voss," I whisper urgently, "I think we should—"

But as I turn back, I find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. Voss's kindly demeanor has vanished, replaced by a cold, calculating glare.

"I'm afraid, Mrs. Drake," he says calmly, "that neither of us is going anywhere."

My mind races. Is Voss behind this? Or is he working with someone else? The cool metal of the gun presses against my ribs as he guides me back into the ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen," one of the masked figures announces, his voice distorted by some kind of modulator. "We apologize for the interruption, but we'll be needing access to your devices and any sensitive information you might be carrying."

Panicked murmurs ripple through the crowd. I scan the room, trying to formulate a plan. The exits are blocked, the armed intruders are efficiently collecting phones and tablets, and Ethan is being held at gunpoint on the other side of the room.

"Now, now," the leader continues, "let's not do anything rash. Cooperate, and this will all be over soon."

As if on cue, the lights flicker and dim. In the momentary darkness, I feel Voss's grip on me loosen. It's now or never.

I drive my elbow back, connecting with his solar plexus. He wheezes, doubling over, and I sprint towards Ethan. The room erupts into chaos as guests realize the power disruption has created an opportunity.

"Ethan!" I shout over the commotion.

He's already moving, having disarmed his captor with a swift move I didn't know he possessed. We meet in the middle of the dance floor, hands clasping.

"We need to get out of here," he says urgently.

"Wait," I pant, "Voss knows something about the quantum project. We can't leave empty-handed."

Ethan's eyes narrow, but he nods. "Alright, but we need to move fast."

We weave through the panicked crowd, dodging fleeing guests and pursuing gunmen. I spot Voss trying to slink away through a side door.

"There!" I point.

We corner him in a dimly lit corridor, his eyes darting between us like a trapped animal.

"Talk," Ethan growls, pinning him against the wall. "What do you know about the quantum computer?"

Voss's face contorts with fear and... is that pity? "You have no idea what you're dealing with," he gasps. "It's not just a computer. It's—"

A high-pitched whine fills the air, cutting him off. Voss's eyes widen in terror.

"No, not now!" he cries out.

The whine intensifies, becoming painful. I clap my hands over my ears, watching in horror as Voss's body begins to shimmer and distort, as if viewed through intense heat waves.

"Run!" Ethan shouts, grabbing my arm.

We sprint down the corridor as the unearthly sound reaches a fever pitch. I risk a glance back, just in time to see Voss's form collapse in on itself, like a star imploding, and vanish in a flash of blinding light.

The shockwave hits us, sending us tumbling to the ground. My vision swims, ears ringing from the blast. As I struggle to my feet, I see Ethan doing the same, his tuxedo torn and dusty.

"What... what was that?" I gasp.

Ethan shakes his head, his face grim. "I don't know. But whatever's going on, it's bigger than we thought. Much bigger."

As the sound of approaching sirens fills the air, I realize our world has just shifted on its axis. The game has changed, and we're playing for stakes higher than we ever imagined.

I look at Ethan, my fake husband and real partner in this insane venture. "What do we do now?"

His eyes meet mine, determination blazing in their depths. "We find out the truth, no matter the cost."

As we slip away into the night, leaving behind the chaos of the gala, one thought echoes in my mind: in this deadly game of quantum secrets and corporate espionage, we've only seen the opening move. And I have a sinking feeling that the worst is yet to come.