Chapter 16 - The Price of Truth
The victory at the federal courthouse sent seismic shockwaves through the city's commercial architecture circles. By mid-afternoon, financial headlines blared the news across business terminals: *Montgomery Holdings Implicated in Industrial Espionage; Hayes & Vance Cleared for Full Construction at Saint-Germain.*
In our corner office, the mood was electric. Champagne corks popped, and Eleanor was already on the phone with the municipal zoning board, securing round-the-clock clearance for the deep-water piling barges. Maya was dancing around the central drafting table, waving the court transcripts like a victor's flag.
"We did it, Ava!" Maya laughed, hugging me so fiercely my silk blouse crinkled. "The Montgomerys are retreating to their offshore holdings. We pour the first maritime concrete foundation on Monday morning!"
Yet, despite the euphoria pulsing through the office, my mind remained anchored to the somber figure who had walked away into the rain without asking for a dime, an apology, or a second chance.
At four in the afternoon, my private phone buzzed. It was Marcus, our lead security coordinator at the Saint-Germain waterfront site. His voice was taut with urgency.
"Ava, you need to get down to Berth 4 immediately," Marcus said, the rumble of heavy diesel engines roaring in the background. "There's an incident."
"What kind of incident?" I asked, my spine stiffening instantly. "Did Montgomery try to blockade the transport barges?"
"No," Marcus replied, his voice dropping an octave. "It’s Ethan Cross. Two men in unmarked coveralls were caught attempting to pour industrial acid into the primary hydraulic crane tanks twenty minutes ago. Ethan caught them. He stopped them, but... you need to see this yourself."
I dropped the phone, grabbed my keys, and was out the door before Eleanor could even ask where I was going.
When my SUV screeched to a halt beside the security perimeter of Berth 4, two police cruisers were already flashing their blue-and-red strobes against the gray twilight. A crowd of construction workers stood gathered near the heavy machinery, murmuring in low, angry tones.
On a wooden crate beside the primary crane rig, Ethan was sitting, a paramedic wrapping a thick bandage around his right forearm. The sleeve of his jacket had been melted away, the chemical burn blistering his skin beneath the white gauze. On the muddy gravel nearby, two men sat handcuffed against a police cruiser, their eyes averted.
I pushed through the perimeter tape, my breath catching in my throat. "Ethan!"
He looked up, wincing slightly as the paramedic fastened the medical tape, but a faint, self-deprecating smile touched his lips. "Ava. Don't worry. The cranes are safe. The hydraulic lines weren't breached."
"What were you doing here?" I demanded, kneeling beside the crate, my professional composure fracturing under the shock. "You're supposed to be staying out of this! You could have been blinded!"
"I overheard Richard Montgomery’s site supervisor making a phone call outside the courthouse diner this morning," Ethan said softly, his voice trembling slightly with physical shock. "They wanted to disable the hydraulic lifts to make it look like your structural engineering was flawed from the very first pour. They wanted a collapse during the media demonstration next week."
May you like
He looked at his bandaged arm, then up into my eyes, his gaze steady and filled with an unbearable depth of regret. "I couldn't stop them from stealing your work years ago, Ava. But as long as I have breath in my body, nobody is ever going to sabotage what you build again."
***
