Chapter Thirty-Six
Reuben
Gentle morning rays pass through the curtains as I transition back to awareness. Opening my eyes, I’m immediately aware of a warm presence beside me. Mariah lies against me with her hair spread across the pillow, her sleeping face radiating complete peace.
As she rests beside me, I feel my heart expanding, and memories of last night rush back to me. I remember feeling overwhelmed by emotions while she looked at me and her skin touched mine. With a mixture of exhilaration and terror, I realize just how deeply I’ve fallen for her.
My fingers dangle above her face as I fight the desire to touch her, fearing she might wake. How did this happen? What process turned this woman from a business associate into someone I can’t live without?
I’m lost in these thoughts when Mariah’s eyes suddenly flutter open. Adoration shines through her as she gazes upward at me, her face lighting up with a gentle expression. “Good morning,” she murmurs, her voice still thick with sleep.
I’m chilled to the bone from the shock of seeing her wake up so suddenly. The feelings of warmth and vulnerability that existed just moments before transition into my usual experience of panic. “Morning,” I respond, my voice coming out more clipped than intended.
Mariah notices my mood shift as her brow furrows ever so slightly. She pulls the sheet around herself as she sits up. “Is everything okay?”
I stand up from the bed and stretch my hand toward my robe. “Fine,” I say, not meeting her eyes. “Just . . . a lot to do today. Business meetings and all that.”
“Oh,” she says, and I can hear the confusion and hurt in her voice. “I thought maybe we could talk about . . . you know, last night.”
I secure my robe to my body while keeping my back toward her. “There isn’t much to discuss about what happened last night. We got carried away. It happens.”
The quiet that follows becomes overwhelmingly loud. Mariah stands watching me with shocked eyes filled with pain. “Got carried away?” Her voice remains almost silent as she repeats my words.
I feel like the world’s biggest jerk, but I can’t stop myself. “Look, Mariah, let’s not make this more than it is. We behaved like adults who had an enjoyable time together. No need to complicate things.”
She rises from the bed and uses the sheet as protective armor. “I see,” she says, her voice cold. “Well, I wouldn’t want to complicate your life, Mr. Crowley.”
When she calls me Mr. Crowley, it feels like she’s punching me in the face.
I watch as she gathers her clothes, her movements sharp and angry.
Words stick in my throat because I need to retract my earlier statements and express my true feelings to her.
Fear holds me tightly while locking my voice in silence.
“Mariah, I . . .” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Don’t,” she says, her eyes meeting mine. Her gaze reflects deep pain along with profound disappointment. “Just . . . don’t.”
She disappears into the bathroom, and I stand there, feeling like I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life. I slide down onto the edge of the bed and bury my face in my hands.
What am I doing? Why am I actively rejecting the only person who recognizes my true self and inspires me to improve?
I hear the bathroom door open, and Mariah emerges, fully dressed. She doesn’t look at me as she heads for the door.
“Mariah, wait,” I call out, desperation creeping into my voice.
She stops, her hand resting on the doorknob. “What is it, Reuben?”
My mouth opens because I need to explain everything to her. She holds immense value in my life, yet my conflicting feelings scare me deeply, and I regret my foolish behavior. But the words don’t come.
She sighs, shaking her head. “That’s what I thought,” she says softly, opening the door.
As she walks out, I feel like a part of me is leaving with her. I want to chase after her, speak with her, and attempt to fix everything. However, my own fears and insecurities keep me in place and leave me motionless.
The room expands with emptiness as the door shuts softly behind her. Yesterday’s joy feels like something that happened in another lifetime while I face this cold reality that I created.
I slump onto the bed while my eyes fix on the ceiling above. What causes me to destroy such beauty in such a short time? What exactly needs to happen for me to make this situation right?
As I lie there, the weight of my actions pressing down on me, I realize something. If I don’t face my fears, if I don’t open up to Mariah and tell her the truth, I might lose her forever. And this fear surpasses every vulnerability I have ever known.
I move back and forth across my cabin while continuously running my fingers through my hair for the hundredth time. Mariah watches me as she sits on the edge of the bed.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks, her voice showing genuine concern.
I halt my movements and turn my body toward her. “It’s the only way,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We need to draw them out, make them show their hand.”
She nods at me slowly, determination appearing on her face. “Okay. I’m in. What’s the plan?”
I explain each detail as she begins to understand the plan, and I watch her eyes. It’s risky, but it’s our best shot at uncovering the truth.
***
After several hours, we enter the bar on our deck. Cigarette smoke saturates the air while people around us talk in excited voices. It feels as though every person in the bar is watching us approach the bar area.
“Scotch, neat,” I bark at the bartender, deliberately loud enough for those nearby to hear.
Mariah slides onto the stool beside me, her body showing evident tension. “Make that two,” she adds, her voice sharp.
I swallow my drink in one gulp before setting the glass down forcefully. “This is a disaster,” I mutter loudly enough to be overheard.
She moves closer to me while her eyes exhibit an artificially created rage. “You call this a disaster? What’s going on, Reuben?”
I move my hand across my face while my words begin to show signs of frustration. “Someone leaked information. Sensitive information. The media will exploit this situation to its fullest extent.”
The ambient dialogue fades into silence, and people listen intently to what we say. I find myself caught between success and worry because our plan functions, yet it brings unknown consequences.
“Leaked information?” Mariah repeats, her voice rising. “What kind of information?”
My grip around the bar edge tightens until my knuckles appear bone white. “The kind that could ruin me. The company. Everything.”
As Mariah’s features twist into an angry mixture, I notice her eyes betray concern. She’s playing her part perfectly. “Ruin you? What about me? What about our wedding? Our future?”
I shake my head in disbelief while signaling the bartender for a refill. “Wedding? Future? The wedding and future plans we talked about may no longer be possible, sweetheart.”
The bartender places my new scotch down, and I immediately take a long drink from it. Mariah slams her hand against the bar, which makes everyone around her look her way.
“Off the table?” she practically shrieks now. “You gave me your word that I would live in luxury, Reuben! You can’t just back out now!”
I spin toward her, my anger escalating with each passing second. “I can’t give you what I don’t have! Don’t you understand? It’s over!”
As Mariah looks at me, her eyes grow wider, displaying true emotional pain combined with a rehearsed expression of anger. “Over? Just like that? What about all your promises? The house in the Hamptons? The yacht?”
I laugh bitterly, fully aware our audience is watching me intently. “Promises? Wake up, Mariah! It was all smoke and mirrors. All the illusions we built together have shattered.”
She rises from her chair quickly, and it scrapes against the floor with a loud noise. “You bastard!” She shouts her words as they reverberate through the quiet bar. “You think you can just use me and throw me away?”
I rise to meet her in height while standing over her petite frame. “Use you? You’re the one who’s been after my money from day one!”
Mariah’s hand flies up, and I barely manage not to flinch as she slaps me across the face. A sound echoes through the shocked silence of the bar.
“I hate you!” Her voice cracks as she spits out her words, tears shining in her eyes. I’m not sure if they’re real or part of the act, and that tears me apart inside.
She storms out of the bar, leaving me standing with a stinging cheek. I notice the whisper network growing around me, alongside expressions of shock and open gossip.
I drop down onto my stool to request another beverage. As I sit there, nursing my scotch and feigning wounded pride, I listen intently to the conversations around me.
“Did you hear that?”
“The great Reuben Crowley, ruined?”
“I always knew that girl was a gold digger . . .”
My glass serves as a barrier for my dark smile. The bait has been set. Now, we wait to see who bites.
I notice Mariah sauntering angrily from the bar, her harsh heel clicks sending vibrations across the shiny floor. The door bounces closed, leaving behind a deafening silence. I take a deep breath to brace for my upcoming actions.
The surrounding whispers increase in volume, and I reach for my phone while my fingers fly across its surface. A text goes out to a select group: “Showtime. Activate protocol Whisper.”
I leave the barstool with carefully unstable movements. “Another round for everyone,” I call out, my voice slightly slurring. “Might as well go out with a bang, right?”
Though he looks at me suspiciously, the bartender proceeds to fill each glass. I stagger toward the exit like someone drowning his sorrows. As I push through the door, I catch snippets of conversation:
“Poor bastard . . .”
“I wonder who leaked the information?”
“I always knew it was too good to be true.”
I smirk to myself as I make my way down the corridor. The seed has been planted. Now, it’s time to harvest.
After turning the corner, I find myself entering an unoccupied conference room. I stand erect and sober as soon as the door finishes closing behind me. From my pocket, I produce a small device no bigger than a credit card.
The device activates with a gentle blue illumination. I tap a few commands, and suddenly, I hear voices—dozens of them, overlapping from all over the ship.
“Jenkins here. Bug 17 active and recording.”
“Hallway D clear. Moving to Deck 8.”
“Detected communications in the executive lounge while establishing connections. Patching through now.”
I shut my eyes to better concentrate on how the voices travel through the device. We deploy our hidden network of bugs, and my team operates with full efficiency throughout the ship. Every cabin, every hallway, every gathering space is now under surveillance.
I feel a twinge of guilt at the invasion of privacy, but I push it aside. This is necessary. Corruption has deeply penetrated my company, and this opportunity represents a critical moment for me to eliminate it.
A voice crackles through, clearer than the others: “I can’t believe Crowley fell for it. We generated fabricated information, which we then leaked.”
My eyes snap open. Bingo.
I change the device settings to capture this particular conversation for analysis. The transmission captures two male voices speaking from what the audio suggests is a secluded cabin.
“Do you think he suspects anything?” the second voice asks.
“Not a chance,” the first voice replies, smug confidence evident in his tone. “He’s too arrogant to imagine anyone could outsmart him.”
My teeth grind together as I push to maintain composure while they outline their strategy. They discuss the scheme, revealing both names and details. The situation grows clearer by the minute, and it reveals increasingly damning evidence.
The vibration of my phone alerts me through my pocket. I pull it out to see a message from Mariah: “Any bites yet?”
I type back quickly: “Big fish on the hook. Maintain your role for another moment.”
As I put the phone away, the device starts transmitting a different voice. As his voice reaches my ears, I realize with dread that James, who is attempting to exploit Mariah, is on the other end of the line.
“Sure the girl isn’t a problem?” he asks.
“Relax,” another voice replies. “She’s just a gold digger. Once Crowley’s ruined, she’ll be gone faster than you can say ‘prenup.’”
My fists tighten, and anger floods my body. Mariah and I remain unaware of who they are confronting.
During the next hour, I devote myself to listening attentively while I decipher the conspiracy.
The situation proves far worse than I expected, with board members and department heads joined by people I once considered friends.
A sophisticated plan exists to remove me from my position and transfer company management.
As the final pieces fall into place, I send out another text to my team: “Wrap it up. The team will assemble at a secure location in Alpha within the next thirty minutes.”
I shut down the listening device, my mind racing with everything I’ve learned. Every piece of this situation builds to crush me, but I maintain control by suppressing it. Emotions must wait until later. The company needs my protection while I reveal its traitorous employees.
As I step out of the conference room, I straighten my tie and smooth back my hair. The confident CEO facade returns to its rightful position around my face. Let them think they’ve won. Let them believe I’m broken.
They don’t know what future events will unfold before them.
I move with deliberate steps through the hallway, each stride filled with clear intent.
The finish line is near, but I control the situation completely.
As I round the corner, heading toward the rendezvous point, one thought cuts through the strategic planning: Mariah.
Through all of these events, she remains non-negotiable.
The moment I understand her significance to me, I will not lose her.
The idea propels me forward. I need to finish this game here and now.