Chapter 18: Stakes Escalate

Elise Harper paced the length of her desk at Pinnacle Designs on Friday afternoon, the New Haven skyline beyond the warehouse windows shrouded in a persistent drizzle that mirrored the tension coiling inside her. The victory of Wednesday night—the merged hybrid design she and Julian Voss had forged, a lifeline for the waterfront project—had held firm with Claire Nguyen's conditional approval on Thursday morning. But the stakes had escalated overnight, the plagiarism leak's fallout deepening into a threat that could unravel everything she'd built. Mia's latest find—an encrypted email from Daniel Reese, They'll pay for '03 and now—tip's ready—had confirmed him as the likely ghost behind the scandal, a vengeful figure from the tech deal three years ago now at Harrington & Co., a rival firm burned by their shortlist loss. Today was about chasing that lead to its end, and Elise was ready to strike.

The office hummed with subdued activity—Pinnacle staff working quietly at their stations, the air thick with the team's fracture from Wednesday's meeting. Tara had taken point with the engineers, refining the hybrid's numbers for the full proposal due in just under three weeks, while Mia dug deeper into Harrington's archives from a corner desk, her red hair bent over her laptop. Julian's crew was absent, holed up at Voss & Associates, but his presence lingered in Elise's mind—his grudging admission about Reese yesterday, their uneasy truce stretched taut by her refusal to trust him. The audio clip, meeting logs, and Reese's email burned in her portfolio, a past she couldn't bury, and now the leak had raised the stakes to a breaking point.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, Tara's name flashing across the screen. Elise answered, her voice sharp. "What've you got?"

"Trouble," Tara said, her tone clipped and urgent. "Harrington & Co. just filed an official complaint with the redevelopment authority—claims we stole their intellectual property, citing that five-year-old proposal Reese pitched. It's bullshit—legal fluff, no substance—but Claire's on edge. She wants us in her office by five—both teams, full briefing."

Elise's stomach tightened, her hand curling into a fist as she glanced at the clock—two hours to prepare. "They're escalating," she said, her voice low and fierce. "Reese isn't just leaking—he's trying to kill us outright. What's Claire saying?"

"She's pissed but holding the line," Tara replied. "PR's rebuttal bought us time, but this complaint's a direct hit—board's wobbling, investors might bolt. She wants proof it's Reese, and she wants it today."

"Got it," Elise said, her resolve hardening. "Mia's on him—I'll push her. Sync with Julian, get his team there. We'll bury this."

"On it," Tara said, and the call ended, leaving Elise staring at the rain-streaked windows, her mind racing. Harrington's complaint was a desperate swing, a legal grenade lobbed to exploit the leak's damage, and Reese was the hand behind it—burned by Julian's move in '03, spurned by their win now. She crossed to Mia's desk, her steps brisk, and leaned in close, her voice hushed.

"Reese just upped the ante—Harrington filed a complaint," she said, her tone a growl. "Claire needs proof it's him—now. What've you got?"

Mia looked up, her freckled face pale but her eyes sharp with focus as she slid a folder across the desk. "This," she whispered, tapping a printout—an email thread between Reese and a Harrington exec, dated three days before the leak. "He says, Tip's set—old pitch ties them to '18, kills their cred. Reply confirms—Go live, we'll follow with the complaint. It's him, Elise—direct link to the article."

Elise snatched the folder, her pulse spiking as she scanned the text—old pitch ties them to '18—a clear nod to Reese's rejected waterfront concept from five years back, the one he'd twisted into the leak's screenshot. "Gold," she said, folding it into her portfolio. "This nails him—ties the leak to Harrington. Anything else?"

"Working on it," Mia said, her fingers flying over her keyboard. "Digging into Harrington's server logs—might catch the tip's send time. Give me an hour."

"Make it fast," Elise replied, clapping Mia's shoulder before heading back to her desk. The email was a smoking gun, a direct line from Reese to the leak, and with Harrington's complaint, it was enough to expose their play. But Claire wanted blood, and Elise needed to deliver—fast, clean, and final.

She grabbed her phone, texting Julian: Harrington filed a complaint—IP theft, tied to the leak. Claire wants us at 5. I've got proof it's Reese—meet me there. His reply came seconds later: On my way—checking my logs for Reese. We'll end this. She stared at the screen, her jaw tightening. His truce held—for now—but the past loomed, a shadow she couldn't shake, and this fight was hers to lead.

By four, Elise stood outside Claire's office in the redevelopment authority's tower, her portfolio clutched tight, Tara at her side with the PR team's latest draft. Julian arrived a minute later, his coat damp from the drizzle, his gray eyes meeting hers with a nod that carried their shared stakes. Voss's crew trailed him—Lila and a few others, their faces grim—while Pinnacle's team rallied behind Elise, Mia slipping in with a last-minute printout she pressed into Elise's hand. "Server log," Mia whispered. "Tip sent from Harrington's IP—two hours before the article dropped."

Elise took it, her chest tightening with a mix of fury and triumph. "Perfect," she said, folding it into her arsenal as Claire's assistant waved them in.

The conference room was stark, the long table flanked by tense faces—Claire at the head, flanked by two board members, their expressions hard. She didn't waste time, her voice cutting through the air. "Harrington's complaint hit an hour ago—IP theft, citing that old pitch. PR's holding, but the board's on the edge. Prove this is Reese, or we're done."

Elise stepped forward, her voice steady as she laid her portfolio on the table, spreading out Mia's evidence—Reese's encrypted email, the Harrington thread, the server log. "It's Reese," she said, her tone sharp and unyielding. "Ex-mogul team, now Harrington & Co.—lost the shortlist, holds a grudge from '03. This email—Tip's set, kills their cred—ties him to the leak, sent from Harrington's IP two hours before the article. This thread confirms—Go live, we'll follow with the complaint. It's a setup—his old pitch twisted to smear us."

Claire skimmed the pages, her eyes narrowing as she absorbed the proof, then turned to Julian. "You?"

Julian leaned forward, sliding a printout of his own—an old Voss & Associates log from '03. "Reese was the mogul's lead," he said, his voice calm but firm. "Met him March 14th—pushed a counterproposal after they hinted Pinnacle's pitch was slipping. He lost when we won, left the team a year later. If he's at Harrington now, this is revenge—for then and now."

Elise shot him a look, her irritation flaring at his slipping—a dodge of his uninvited move—but she held her tongue. Claire studied the log, then the board members, who exchanged a glance before nodding. "Solid," she said, her tone leveling. "Reese orchestrated it—Harrington's complicit. PR counters with this—legal team files a defamation suit by morning. Project's safe—for now."

The room exhaled, a collective tension easing, but Claire's eyes stayed sharp. "Stakes are up," she said, pointing at Elise and Julian. "Three weeks—full proposal, no more leaks, no more fights. Fix your team, or I pull it. Clear?"

"Clear," Elise said, her voice steady as Julian echoed her, their truce a lifeline stretched thin. The meeting broke, the board members filing out, and Tara clapped Elise's shoulder. "You nailed him," she said, her grin fierce. "Reese is toast."

"Yeah," Elise replied, her tone flat as she gathered her things, her eyes on Julian across the table. He met her gaze, his expression unreadable, and approached as the room emptied.

"Nice work," he said, his voice low. "Reese didn't see that coming."

"Should've," she replied, her tone icy. "You didn't either—'03's still on you. We're not square."

He nodded, his jaw tightening. "I know. But we stopped him—together. That's something."

"For now," she said, brushing past him toward the door, her chest tight with a mix of triumph and unease. The stakes had escalated—Harrington's complaint crushed, Reese exposed—but the project teetered, the team fractured, and Julian's past loomed. She'd won this round, a shared victory that saved their bid, but the war wasn't over.

Back at Pinnacle, Elise spread her evidence across her desk, diving into the full proposal with a ferocity that drowned out the day's noise. The rain eased, the city quieting beyond the windows, but her focus burned—Reese was down, not out, and she'd be ready for whatever came next.