Chapter 16 – Corporate Espionage

The storm didn't arrive with thunder. It came quietly—like most disasters in Leonardo Maddox Cross's world.

It began with an article.

Leo sat in the conference room on the seventy-third floor of Cross International's Manhattan headquarters, a wall of glass behind him revealing a gray, overcast skyline. Rain dotted the windows like whispers, and inside, the air crackled not from the weather but from tension. He leaned forward, the sleek screen of his phone casting a cold glow on his face. Thirty-four years old, six-foot-three, built with an athletic precision that bespoke discipline, Leo rarely betrayed emotion. But his jaw had gone tight.

Across the screen scrolled the headline from the Daily Market Pulse:

LEO CROSS' MARRIAGE MERGER – A FAÇADE? INSIDERS LEAK CONFIDENTIAL DETAILS ON TRILLION-DOLLAR DEAL

His thumb paused on a paragraph that made his blood chill.

Sources say Cross's engagement to Ariana Blake, a former freelance designer, is part of a strategic move to meet the merger clause required by LinexTech's founder. But insiders now claim someone close to Cross has leaked sensitive contract terms to the press.

The leak wasn't just damaging. It was catastrophic. The clause in the LinexTech merger strictly required confidentiality. Any breach could void the contract. Billions—no, trillions—were at stake.

Leo's shoulders, broad under a crisp charcoal suit, remained squared. But inside, gears spun rapidly. He stood and paced the room, hands behind his back, eyes narrowed. The polished oak floors barely creaked under his sharp Italian dress shoes.

Julian, his senior counsel, hovered nearby, visibly pale.

"We've contained the article to secondary outlets," Julian said. "But if it picks up with Tier-One press, we're looking at an official inquiry from LinexTech's board."

Leo didn't respond. He stopped at the window, gazing out at the foggy New York skyline—his empire's stage. If this exploded further, he'd lose the deal. Years of planning, control, power—all undone because someone wanted to sabotage him.

And worst of all?

They were trying to pin it on her.

"Someone inside leaked those contract terms," Julian added. "Only six people had access. Ariana Blake was one of them."

Leo's spine stiffened.

Ariana?

It didn't make sense.

He could still see her this morning—wrapped in one of his oversized white robes, barefoot, sipping coffee at the kitchen island of the penthouse they shared. Her dark brown hair, tousled from sleep, caught sunlight like ink in motion. She looked impossibly small against the vast white marble and steel of his space. Twenty-nine, five-foot-six, with olive skin and thoughtful gray-green eyes, she was... unfitting in his world and yet somehow grounded in it. The woman who'd clumsily spilled coffee on his coat weeks ago had become the one who now occupied the space beside him—and somewhere deeper, a space he didn't admit existed.

She couldn't have done this. But the evidence—on paper, at least—suggested otherwise.

Leo turned slowly, facing Julian. "Get me the IP trace. Narrow the time window."

Julian nodded, relieved to be dismissed, and left quickly.

Leo stood alone again.

The walls of the room felt closer now. The silence was no longer comfortable—it was a verdict waiting to be delivered.

---

Ariana Blake had no idea what was coming.

She stood in the elevator of Cross Tower, trying to balance a portfolio under one arm while adjusting the collar of her belted trench coat. The space was cool, filled with soft ambient music, the kind that did nothing to ease her nerves. The morning had already been chaotic—her laptop refused to start, she'd spilled tea on her sketchpad, and now she was ten minutes late for her design consult with the Cross International office team. Not Leo, thankfully. She hadn't seen him since he left that morning, distant and unreadable.

They hadn't spoken much since the gala. Or since the note he left her in the studio.

The elevator dinged.

Ariana stepped into the twenty-third floor office space—bright, modern, with open floor plans and soft neutral tones. People bustled around desks, a blur of sleek suits and sharp heels. But heads turned when she passed. Eyes lingered. Conversations stopped mid-word.

What the hell?

She reached the design boardroom and entered to find Mark, the lead architect she'd been coordinating with, already seated with two assistants. His expression was strained.

"Morning," she said carefully.

Mark barely nodded.

Something was off.

Before she could sit, a woman in HR—a prim, tight-lipped blonde named Carissa—entered the room, holding a manila folder. "Ariana, I need to speak with you. Privately."

Ariana's stomach dropped. She followed Carissa out and into a small side office.

The door clicked shut behind them.

"Is everything alright?" Ariana asked, frowning.

Carissa's eyes were unreadable. "Ariana, there's been a serious breach involving confidential contract terms related to Mr. Cross's merger. The leak appears to have come from someone with direct access to the agreement."

Ariana blinked. "Wait, what? I don't understand—"

"You're listed as one of the individuals who received a digital copy," Carissa said crisply, placing the folder on the desk. "Your IP address was flagged in the timestamp of the file's last access before the leak."

Ariana's knees went weak. "No. That's not—I didn't touch any file like that. I don't even know how to access half of Leo's business systems!"

Carissa's tone was clinical. "For now, this is internal protocol. We're conducting an investigation."

"I didn't leak anything," Ariana said again, this time sharper. Her chest tightened. "I'm not a corporate spy—I'm his fiancée!"

Carissa didn't respond. Her silence felt damning.

Ariana left the room reeling. The hallway twisted in her vision. People were staring—some with pity, others with judgment. She rushed into the private elevator, fists clenched, heart pounding.

Was this how it ended? A setup? A mistake? Or someone deliberately framing her?

And more importantly—where was Leo?

---

He was already waiting when she entered the penthouse.

Leo stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows of the living room, a drink in hand, still dressed in his suit from earlier. The skyline behind him had darkened, dusk bleeding into the horizon.

Ariana dropped her bag on the marble console. "You knew, didn't you?"

He turned, face unreadable. "I wanted to speak to you in person."

"So, you had HR drag me into an interrogation room?" Her voice trembled, fury barely contained. "You let them accuse me of corporate espionage?"

"I didn't accuse you," he said evenly.

"You didn't stop it either!"

A tense silence fell between them. The space—usually too big—suddenly felt suffocating.

Leo set his glass down on the edge of the black quartz side table. "The file was accessed from your device."

"I didn't do it," Ariana snapped.

"I know," he said.

She faltered. "What?"

Leo stepped closer, his gaze fixed on her. "I know you didn't do it. I've already ordered a full sweep. The IP was spoofed. Someone used your laptop remotely—probably planted malware weeks ago. We're tracking it."

Ariana's breath caught. "Then why the hell did you let me walk into that ambush at the office?"

Leo's jaw clenched. "Because I needed to see how they'd react to you. Who blinked. Who hesitated."

"You used me as bait," she whispered.

His silence confirmed it.

She stepped back, throat tight. "You're unbelievable."

Leo didn't move. "This merger is war, Ariana. And I don't lose wars."

"Even if it means burning the people next to you?" she asked, voice cracking.

He said nothing.

Something inside her broke.

She stormed past him, into the hallway, into the guest room she'd unofficially claimed as her space. She slammed the door and pressed her back against it, tears stinging her eyes.

She felt betrayed.

But beneath that, she felt something worse—used.

---

Hours passed.

The night deepened. The rain had stopped, but the city still pulsed below with the hum of yellow lights and distant sirens. Ariana sat on the edge of the guest bed, staring at the phone in her hand. Messages from her best friend, Lydia, buzzed unanswered.

A knock sounded.

She didn't answer.

The door opened anyway.

Leo entered, slowly, carefully—as if walking into a storm he wasn't sure he'd survive.

"Ariana," he said quietly.

She didn't look up. "Get out."

"I owe you an apology."

"No, Leo. You owe me respect."

His eyes flickered. He moved to sit on the windowsill across from her. "I never believed you leaked anything. Not for one second."

"Then why did it feel like you did?"

He ran a hand through his dark hair, the movement uncharacteristically vulnerable. "Because when you care about someone, they're the easiest target. The people trying to destroy this deal… they knew that. They used you."

The words hung there.

"When did you start caring?" she asked, quietly.

Leo didn't answer immediately.

Then, he said, "Maybe the first time you cursed me out in that elevator. Maybe when you made soup with those little stars when I was sick. Maybe when you fell asleep sketching in my office and didn't care I was in the room."

Ariana's breath hitched.

"You're not just a clause in a contract," he said, voice low. "You're the one person I trust."

She looked up at him. And for the first time since this all began, he wasn't cold or calculating. He wasn't the trillionaire with ice in his veins. He was just Leo—flawed, uncertain, fighting to keep something he didn't fully understand.

"Say that again," she whispered.

He stood. Crossed the room. Knelt in front of her, taking her hand.

"You're the one person I trust."

Something shifted in her chest.

A crack in the wall she'd built.

He didn't kiss her.

He didn't ask for forgiveness.

He just stayed there, grounded, real, holding her hand like it was the only tether he had.

And for once, that was enough.