Chapter 12: Digging Deeper

Elise Harper woke on Monday morning with a fire simmering in her chest, the hybrid waterfront design etched into her mind like a battle plan she'd spent the weekend perfecting. The sky over New Haven hung heavy and gray, a thick blanket of clouds that mirrored the tension coiling inside her. She'd barely slept, her thoughts split between tomorrow's pitch with Julian Voss and the audio clip Mia had unearthed—the damning evidence of his calculated move three years ago. That muffled voice on the recording, confirming Voss & Associates had reached out to the tech mogul's team a day before her final pitch, had turned her suspicion into a blade she was sharpening with every new piece of the puzzle. Today was the day to polish the pitch, but it was also a chance to dig deeper into the shadows of his betrayal, and Elise intended to seize both.

She arrived at the coworking space downtown just before nine, her blazer crisp and her ponytail tight, Tara's engineering report and her tablet tucked under her arm. The air inside buzzed with the quiet intensity of a team on deadline—Pinnacle Designs and Voss & Associates staff hunched over laptops, engineers scribbling last-minute calculations, Mia tapping away in a corner with a stack of files beside her. Elise scanned the room, spotting Julian near the projector, his navy suit sharp and his posture relaxed, as if the stakes of the day were just another meeting to him. He glanced her way as she approached, his gray eyes meeting hers with a nod that carried their uneasy truce from Sunday night. She returned it, cool and controlled, but her mind flickered to the audio clip, a secret she held close as she took her seat.

Claire Nguyen strode in at nine sharp, her presence silencing the low hum of conversation as she took her place at the head of the table. She carried a tablet, her sharp eyes sweeping the room before settling on Elise and Julian. "This is it," she said, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. "Your pitch is due by end of day—cohesive, sellable, bulletproof. I want to see what you've merged since Friday. Let's go."

Elise stood, her heart steady despite the weight of the moment. She'd rehearsed this with Julian late Sunday, their uneasy alliance forging a pitch that balanced her vision with his pragmatism, and now it was time to make it shine. She tapped her tablet, projecting the hybrid design onto the screen—five tiered towers with cascading green terraces, linked by elevated walkways that wove through clusters of Julian's taller modular blocks, with berms as a fallback along the shoreline. The image was bold yet grounded, a testament to their forced partnership, and she let it settle over the room before speaking.

"We've unified the concept," she began, her voice clear and firm. "The towers are the district's heartbeat—five residential-commercial hubs that maximize space and sustainability with green terraces. The walkways connect them, doubling as flood barriers and pedestrian paths, locked in at twelve percent over budget with concrete bases and alloy spans. Julian's blocks—modular, phased, taller now—ground the design at ten percent under, with berms as a fallback if the board balks. This is a landmark that delivers—vision for the investors, resilience for the city, returns for the long haul."

She slid Tara's engineering report across the table to Claire, her fingers steady as she continued. "The numbers hold—walkways cut long-term costs with built-in infrastructure, towers draw the eye and the money, blocks keep it feasible. We're pitching both options—walkways lead, berms back up—to give the board flexibility without losing the core. It's bold, it's practical, it's New Haven's future."

The room shifted, a ripple of approval spreading through the team. Tara nodded, her eyes gleaming with pride, and Mia glanced up from her laptop with a faint smile. Even some of Julian's staff leaned forward, their expressions softening from skepticism to intrigue. Claire skimmed the report, her brow furrowing as she absorbed the details, then turned to Julian. "Your take?"

Julian rose, his movements smooth and deliberate, projecting his own render—a slightly cleaner version of the hybrid, with the towers prominent but the blocks and berms more defined. "Elise's vision sets the tone," he said, his voice calm but carrying that undercurrent of confidence she'd come to expect. "The towers and walkways bring the wow factor—twelve percent over's a stretch, but it's sellable if we frame it right. My blocks anchor it—modular, ten percent under, phased for speed. Berms are the safety net—cheaper, faster, proven. We lead with ambition, back it with reality. It's a pitch that closes the deal."

Elise felt a flicker of irritation at his framing—safety net sounded like a retreat—but she held her tongue. Their truce demanded unity, and he'd kept the walkways in play, even if grudgingly. Claire studied the screen, then the report, her expression unreadable. "Good," she said at last, setting the papers down. "It's cohesive—towers, walkways, blocks, berms. Numbers are tight, options are clear. Polish the visuals, lock the pitch by five. I'll take it to the board tomorrow."

The room exhaled, a collective tension easing as Claire moved on to logistics—render assignments, final edits—but Elise's focus lingered on Julian. He sat back, typing notes into his laptop, his calm intact despite the stakes. She'd seen that calm before, in the coffee shop when he'd brushed off her accusations, and now it rankled her more than ever. The audio clip burned in her mind—Voss's team reached out yesterday—a lie he'd spun into a story she'd almost believed. Almost.

The meeting broke an hour later, the team scattering into smaller groups to refine the pitch. Elise stayed at the table, her tablet open, tweaking the walkways' curves when Mia approached, her stack of files clutched tightly to her chest. "Got a minute?" Mia asked, her voice low, her freckled face tense with something Elise couldn't place.

"Always," Elise replied, closing her tablet and gesturing to the chair beside her. Mia sat, glancing over her shoulder to ensure no one was listening, then slid a single page across the table—an email printout, faded but legible.

"Found this in the backups," Mia whispered, her eyes darting to Julian across the room. "It's from the mogul's assistant to their project lead, dated March 16th. Says Voss & Associates sent a preliminary pitch—uninvited—on the 14th. Matches the meeting log and that audio you asked about."

Elise took the page, her pulse spiking as she scanned the text: Voss & Assoc. reached out yesterday with a counterproposal—faster timeline, lower risk. Suggest we review before locking Harper in. March 16th—two days after the meeting Mia had logged, a day after the audio clip's conference call, and four days before she'd lost the deal. It was the thread she'd been chasing, the paper trail tying Julian's move to her downfall. He hadn't waited for the client to come to him; he'd struck first, uninvited, while she was still pitching.

"This is it," Elise said, her voice a hushed growl as she folded the page into her portfolio. "He lied—straight to my face. 'It wasn't personal,' he said. Bullshit."

Mia nodded, her expression grim. "There's more in the backups—I'm still digging—but this ties it together. What are you going to do?"

Elise leaned back, her mind racing. Confronting him now would tip her hand, give him time to spin another excuse before she had the full picture. She needed everything—every email, every log, every scrap Mia could find—to bury him when the moment came. "Nothing yet," she said, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Keep digging—quietly. I'll use this when it hurts most."

Mia hesitated, then nodded, gathering her files and slipping away. Elise watched her go, her chest tight with a mix of fury and anticipation. The pitch was her focus today—winning Claire, securing the bid—but this email was a door swinging wide open, a glimpse into the truth she'd wield later. Julian thought he could coast on their alliance, dilute her vision with his pragmatism, but he didn't know what she held. Not yet.

Julian approached then, his leather case in hand, stopping a few feet from her. "Ready for the final push?" he asked, his tone casual, almost warm. "Renders are almost done—walkways lead, berms in reserve, like we agreed."

She met his gaze, her expression cool, masking the fire beneath. "Yeah," she said, standing and gathering her things. "Let's lock it down. I've got the walkways dialed—twelve percent's rock solid."

He nodded, that half-smile flickering. "Good. We'll hit them hard—together."

"Together," she echoed, her voice flat as she brushed past him, heading for the group tasked with visuals. The word felt like ash in her mouth, a lie she'd play along with for now. They were allies today, pitching as one, but the email in her portfolio burned like a live coal. She'd dig deeper, let Mia unearth every buried truth, and when the time came, she'd turn this alliance into a reckoning.

Back at her station, Elise dove into the pitch, refining every detail—the towers' angles, the walkways' sweep, the blocks' quiet support. The team hummed around her, a machine she drove with a ferocity that drowned out the day's noise. Five o'clock loomed, and she'd make it perfect—hers, even with Julian's shadow on it. The past was a weapon she'd sharpen in silence, a strike she'd land when he least expected it. For now, she'd win the bid, claim her stage, and wait.