Chapter 18
The Wall Street Journal headline blazed across Emma’s tablet screen:
“Barrett Industries’ Secret South American Merger Exposed: Questions of Corporate Espionage Surface.”
She read it from her hospital bed on the morning she was scheduled for discharge, her hands shaking with fury.
The article detailed confidential negotiations between Barrett Industries and three major South American conglomerates—deals she’d spent months carefully constructing before the Diazes arrived. But it was the quotes that made her blood boil.
“These leaks appear to be the result of internal corporate espionage,” Alexander Barrett, CEO of Barrett Industries, was quoted saying. “Given recent leadership changes in our international division, we’re investigating all possibilities, including potential breaches of confidentiality by former executives.”
The implication was clear. Alex was publicly blaming her.
Her phone hadn’t stopped buzzing since the story broke. Messages from board members expressing their “disappointment.” Emails from international partners rescinding invitations to upcoming negotiations. Even a carefully worded text from Elliana:
“Such a shame when trust is broken, querida.”
A knock at her door interrupted her seething. Jack entered, his expression grim.
“Before you say anything,” he held up a hand, “I’ve got something you need to see.” He pulled out his laptop, setting it on her hospital tray. “Remember that trace we put on Sophia’s communications after the board meeting?”
Emma leaned forward, watching as Jack pulled up a series of encrypted emails. “These were sent from Sophia’s private server to a shell company in Panama two days ago.”
“The merger details,” Emma breathed, recognizing snippets of the confidential documents in the attachments. “She leaked them. But why? She works for Barrett Industries now.”
“Does she?” Jack’s expression was meaningful. “Check the routing data.”
Emma’s eyes widened as she followed the digital trail. “The shell company… it’s owned by Diaz Enterprises?”
“Sophia never stopped working for them.” Jack’s voice was hard. “She’s still on their payroll through a series of offshore accounts. The legal position at Barrett Industries was just cover.”
Emma’s mind raced. “She leaked the deals to damage Barrett Industries’ reputation in South America. But why would Alex—” She stopped, the pieces clicking into place. “He knows. He knows she leaked it, but he’s blaming me anyway.”
“It gets worse.” Jack pulled up another document, this one in Spanish. “I had my contact translate this. It’s a proposal for emergency restructuring of Barrett Industries’ international division. Luka submitted it to the board an hour after the story broke.”
Emma scanned the translation, her fury growing with each line. The proposal was masterful in its manipulation. Using the leak as evidence of systemic problems in international operations, it suggested consolidating all South American business under direct oversight of a special committee—one that would, conveniently, be led by Luka Diaz.
“He’s using the chaos to grab control,” Emma realized. “The leak, Alex’s accusation, the public scandal—it’s all orchestrated.”
“Em…” Jack hesitated. “There’s more. My contact found something else while translating documents. Something about the night of the fire in Buenos Aires.”
Emma’s heart jumped. “What?”
But before Jack could answer, her hospital room door opened again. Alex stood there, looking every inch the powerful CEO in his perfectly tailored suit.
“I need to speak with my still wife,” he said coldly. “Alone.”
“Like hell,” Jack started, but Emma touched his arm.
“It’s okay.” Her voice was steel. “I want to hear what new accusations my yet husband has for me.”
Jack left reluctantly, shooting Alex a warning look. The tension in the room could have powered the entire hospital.
“The board is meeting in an hour,” Alex said without preamble. “They’re voting on accepting your resignation.”
“My resignation?” Emma’s laugh was bitter. “You mean the one I haven’t given?”
“The one you’ll submit to avoid a very public investigation into corporate espionage.” Alex placed a document on her tray. “The evidence suggests you leaked those deals out of revenge for your suspension.”
“Evidence?” Emma’s voice shook with rage. “You mean the evidence Sophia manufactured while leaking the real documents to Diaz Enterprises?”
Something flickered in Alex’s eyes. “Be careful, Emma. Accusations without proof—”
“I have proof.” She turned Jack’s laptop toward him, showing the encrypted emails. “Sophia never stopped working for Luka. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”
Alex moved faster than she expected, slamming the laptop shut with a force that rattled the tray beside Emma’s hospital bed. The sound cut through the sterile quiet of the room, making her flinch. He loomed over her, his normally composed face contorted with anger and something deeper—fear.
“Stop investigating,” he ground out, his voice tight and trembling. “For once in your life, Emma, stop digging.”
Emma, propped up against the stiff pillows, tightened her grip on the blanket covering her lap. The heart monitor beside her beeped steadily, though she could feel her pulse rising. “Why?” she demanded, her voice hoarse but firm. “Because I’m getting too close to the truth? About the accident Sophia mentioned? About why are you really afraid of Luka?”
Alex’s expression twisted, and then the words burst out of him, raw and unfiltered. “Because you’re going to get yourself killed! And I can’t lose you!” His voice cracked, the force of his emotions barely restrained. He took a shaky step back, running a hand through his disheveled hair before adding, quieter but no less intense, “If that’s not enough for you to stop, think about the baby. Think about our child.”
Emma’s breath caught, her hand instinctively moving to her belly. For a moment, his fear struck her harder than any argument he’d ever made. Beneath the sharp edges of his anger was a vulnerability she hadn’t seen before. His words clung to the air, full of desperation.
“Then tell me the truth,” she said, her voice softening but still laced with tension. “Help me understand why you’re choosing them over us. Why do you keep shutting me out when we’re supposed to be a team.”
For a fleeting second, she thought she saw him crack, the storm in his eyes dimming just enough to let the truth slip through. But then his phone buzzed on the bedside table, its sharp tone cutting through the fragile moment. Luka’s name lit up the screen, its presence like a cold shadow over the room.
Alex’s expression hardened instantly, the walls slamming back into place. His voice, when he spoke again, was flat and cold. “Sign the resignation,” he said, his tone devoid of the vulnerability he’d shown moments before. “Take the severance package. Walk away.”
Emma’s heart ached, her chest tightening as she glared at him. “Or what?”
He looked away, jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. “Or the next leak won’t be about merger deals. It’ll be about us. About the convenience marriage arranged to secure my inheritance. About your grandmother’s medical bills being paid through offshore accounts. Every deal you’ve ever made that bent the rules.”
Her voice trembled with fury. “You’d destroy my reputation completely.”
“To protect you? Yes,” he said, his voice thick with pain. He finally looked at her, and the anguish in his eyes sent a fresh wave of hurt through her. “Some secrets are worth any price to keep buried.”
The words hung between them, heavy and suffocating. He turned and left without another word, the door clicking shut behind him. The sound seemed deafening in the sterile quiet of the hospital room.
For a moment, they stood frozen in the suffocating silence, the weight of his threats hanging heavy in the air. Emma’s breath came in short gasps as she searched his face, desperate for a sign that he didn’t mean it. But the resolve in his eyes told her otherwise.
When Alex turned and left, the resignation letter still sitting on the desk, the door’s soft click felt louder than a gunshot. Emma didn’t move for several long moments, her heart pounding as she tried to steady herself and breath shaky as the heart monitor’s beeping quickened. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them back, the weight of his threats pressing down on her like a physical force.
Finally, she reached for Jack’s laptop. Her fingers trembled as she opened it and pulled up the files again. If Alex thought threats would stop her, he didn’t know her at all.
For the next hour, she dug through files, following breadcrumbs in the data Jack had uncovered. Most of the crucial documents were in Spanish, but numbers were universal. She traced money flows, property transfers, shell companies leading back to that night in Buenos Aires.
Slowly, a larger pattern emerged. The fire hadn’t been an isolated incident. It was part of a systematic campaign of corporate takeovers across South America—companies that mysteriously failed after accidents, only to be acquired by shell corporations that all led back to one source: Diaz Enterprises.
But there was something else. Something in the pattern of Alex’s movements, in the timing of certain transfers. He hadn’t been just a witness to the fire. He’d been…
A knock interrupted her thoughts. A nurse entered with discharge papers, followed by Luka Diaz himself.
“Mrs. Barrett.” His smile was pure predator. “I thought I’d offer you a ride to the board meeting. We wouldn’t want you to miss this historic vote.”
“Historic because you’re finally getting what you wanted?” Emma’s hand tightened on the laptop. “Control of Barrett Industries’ international operations?”
“Clever girl.” He stepped closer, switching to Spanish. “Pero no lo suficientemente inteligente para mantenerse con vida.”
She recognized enough to hear the threat in his words. “English, Mr. Diaz. Or maybe you are afraid to make your threats clearly?”
“My dear Emma,” he smiled, “some threats are better left to the imagination. Like what might happen if certain photographs from Buenos Aires became public. Photos that show your husband in… compromising positions.”
“You mean by the burning building?” Emma countered. “With blood on his hands?”
For the first time, she saw Luka’s composure crack slightly.
“Where did you—”
“I have friends too, Mr. Diaz. Friends who can translate Spanish documents. Friends who can trace money through shell companies. Friends who might be very interested in the pattern of corporate ‘accidents’ across South America.”
“Be very careful, Mrs. Barrett.” All pretense of charm vanished from his voice. “Clever women who ask too many questions about Buenos Aires tend to meet unfortunate ends.”
“Like the woman in the building that night?” Emma took a shot in the dark, watching his reaction. “The one who died in that fire?”
Luka’s eyes turned to ice. “Sign the resignation, Emma. Take your husband’s advice. Walk away.”
“Or what? Another accident? Like all the other convenient accidents your company has arranged?”
“You know what your problem is, Emma?” He moved to the door, then paused. “You see the pieces, but you’ll never understand the whole picture. Not in time to save yourself.”
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