23. Caught in a Web

Leon Garron was not a man used to being ordered around.

He had not crawled his way out of London’s East End to the top of one of the most prestigious fashion labels in the world to drop everything and jump to attention when asked. And even as he stood, lingering on the doorstep of Adrien Agreste’s posh new townhouse, he regretted not letting his secretary field Adrien’s rushed, snappy phone call and still wondered if he could slip away without drawing attention to himself. But something about a normally composed, polite young man losing his temper warranted his curiosity; Adrien sounded two-steps from a meltdown on the phone, and if Gabriel’s majority shareholder was going to do something rash, Leon wanted to be the first to know about it…and stop it if all possible.

His sharp rap on the door was answered almost as soon as he drew his hand back. The door flew open, and a young woman in a flannel shirt scrutinized him as she blocked the doorway. “Mr. Garron?” She asked.

“The same,” Leon said with a nervous smile. “I believe your friend is expecting me?”

The woman nodded, stepping aside and letting Leon into the foyer. As he took his coat off, he could see Adrien in deep conversation with a tall man in a dark suit, brow furrowed and shoulders hunched as he seemed to be frantically taking notes on a pad of paper. He looked up, muttering something to the larger man as he rose to greet Leon.

“Adrien,” Leon said, taking the younger man’s offered hand.

“Thank you for coming,” Adrien said, a little stiffly, gesturing to the table beside them. “I was worried I had caught you at a bad time.”

“One of the CFO perks is that no one is going to chide you for taking a long lunch,” Leon chuckled, taking notice of the other man for the first time. “Bruno?”

“Mr. Garron,” Bruno nodded, standing up and offering his hand. Marcel’s personal assistant dwarfed Leon by nearly a foot, and yet his obvious discomfort made him seem so much smaller. “H-Hope we didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“It’s fine,” Leon said, glancing at the tall young man leaning against the counter. “…Nino, right? Adrien’s friend?”

“Surprised you remember me,” Nino chuckled.

“Barely saw you two apart when we were in Asia,” Leon said, sitting at the table as Adrien took his spot across him. Having worked with Gabriel since the brand’s initial rise to prominence, Leon had practically watched Adrien grow from a toddler. But in all the years he had known him, Leon couldn’t remember Gabriel’s son looking as grave or tense as he did then. “…I’m beginning to think this isn’t a social call.”

“Marcel Dubois,” Adrien said curtly, as though the name of his former employer was a toxin he was trying to purge through his mouth. “He needs to go; now.”

Leon blinked, glancing at Bruno with a furrowed brow as he leaned forward. “That’s…I-I mean, I’m surprised you suddenly care about the well-being of Gabriel-”

“My family company has always been my chiefest concern,” Adrien said, smoothing his notes out in front of him. “Stock prices have been on a steady decline since Mr. Dubois assumed control of the company, our prestige in the fashion industry is slipping, recalls and customer complaints have been higher than they’ve ever been, we're hemorrhaging talent at an alarming rate, and-”

“Adrien,” Leon said, holding a hand up. “…what is this really about?”

“This is really about Marcel’s failure to safeguard my family lega-”

Leon stood up, walked around the side of the table, and took a seat in the chair at Adrien’s right. “Adrien, you are many things, but I have never known you to be a man concerned his stock portfolio.”

“It’s not just my stock portfolio I’m concerned with!” Adrien snapped, cheeks flushing at the suggestion. “H-He’s running Gabriel into the ground!”

“He’s been running it into the ground since your father died,” Leon said sternly, raising an eyebrow and making Adrien drop his gaze in embarrassment. “I’m curious as to why you suddenly care.”

Adrien swallowed his retort, frowning at the table in front of him. As harsh as it was to say, Leon was right; Gabriel had been in the clutches of a self-centered toad for more than a year now, and Adrien hadn’t batted so much as an eyelash. He was happy to leave and put his past with his father’s company behind him, like Lot fleeing Gomorrah. Adrien had painted the company in the same negative tone as his experience with Marcel, and now he was only coming back because it was personal. Because his new-found happiness was being threatened by a man who had held it hostage for months. Had he stayed a little longer and put Marcel out of a job when he still had a foothold in the running of the company, none of this would have happened.

Had he finished his business with Gabriel, Marinette might not have been in the position she was in today.

“Marcel has been extorting my friend since I left in the hopes of bringing me back under his thumb,” Adrien said, jaw tensing as he said it. “Using Gabriel’s influence to apply pressure to stores and boutiques that carried her label as some kind of intimidation tactic.”

“I see,” Leon said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful frown.

“I don’t know how long it’s been going on,” Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair. “And I only found out about it because I ran into Bruno at Marinette’s…old apartment.”

“I should have mentioned something sooner,” Bruno sighed, picking at the label on his water bottle sheepishly.

“I’m just glad you said something at all,” Adrien replied, awkwardly patting Bruno on the shoulder with a slightly forced smile.

“I wish I could say I was surprised, but this sort of tasteless behavior is unfortunately what Marcel is known for,” Leon said, eyes wandering between Adrien, Alya, and Nino. “And if we fired every CEO who was a petty, small minded misanthrope, we’d have no one left to run the company.”

“Not to butt in, but the fact that he’s a joke of a businessman doesn’t enter into the equation?” Alya snorted, crossing her arms. “Man’s lost you guys millions, and you can’t kick him to the curb over that?”

“If we could prove Marcel was solely responsible for our recent downturn? Certainly,” Leon shrugged. “The problem is, Marcel could file suit for wrongful termination because we can’t objectively prove that all our financial woes are his fault.”

“Even if they are,” Bruno muttered.

“I didn’t think it’d be so easy,” Adrien sighed. “I just want you to know where I stand, and hoped to count on your support if it came to a board vote.”

“I was raring for Marcel’s dismissal the moment your father passed,” Leon said with a grim smile. “I’d go so far as to say most of the board is as well…if we had grounds to dismiss him, that is.”

“Too bad y’all got nothing to work with,” Nino sighed, crossing his arms. “Guy like Marcel’s bound to leave a trail of shady shit, right?”

“Undoubtedly,” Leon agreed. “But company file sharing has always been surprisingly primitive; Gabriel was never the type of man to let the minutiae of business interfere with his design, so all of Marcel’s personal files aren’t exactly accessible, since we have some way of parting him from his technology.”

“And we don’t have any way of doing that,” Adrien said, brow furrowing as he slowly turned to Bruno. “…unless.”

“Unless,” Leon echoed, turning to Marcel’s assistant with a thoughtful look in his eye.

“W-Wait,” Bruno chuckled, holding up a hand. “You’re not suggesting that I…steal Marcel’s personal files, are you?”

“You’re not stealing; it’s company property,” Adrien mused, staring thoughtfully at the table. “At least his laptop is.”

“That would be the neatest solution,” Leon said, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtful frown. “Questionable, at best, but questionable is tame by the standards of corporate fashion, isn’t’ it?”

“E-Even if I could get my hands on his computer, there’s no way I would be able to break in without a password,” Bruno mumbled, loosening his tie. “I’d love to help, but I majored in finance, not computer science.”

“And we can’t exactly take it off the premises either, can we?” Adrien sighed. “Back to square one…unless-”

Adrien’s gaze wandered over to Alya who nodded thoughtfully.

“Unless,” Alya echoed, cocking her head and squinting at Bruno. “We could pass for relatives, couldn’t we?”

“Wait…you guys aren’t suggesting that Alya go in there and pry whatever the hell you guys need out of Marcel’s computer, are you?” Nino said, pushing himself off the counter with a small frown.

“Why, you don’t think I can do it?” Alya snorted.

“I don’t think you should,” Nino said, glancing between Alya and Adrien. “Look, I hate Marcel as much as the next guy, but you can’t just bust into the head office of an international fashion label and start pulling data off computers! I mean, it’s not exactly legal, is it?”

“Screw legal,” Alya said, crossing her arms. “He forfeited the right to legal when he decided to go after Marinette.”

“Yeah, and we all know how far this guy is willing to go to get back at people who cross him,” Nino retorted. “Blackmail, extortion, whatever the fuck Bruno was supposed to do at Marinette’s apartment complex-”

“N-Nothing too unsavory, I promise,” Bruno added, but Nino didn’t seem to care.

“Well, it’s not you that’s sticking your neck out here,” Alya huffed.

“It’s not my neck I’m worried about!” Nino groaned, looking to Adrien for support. “Adrien, you can’t seriously be asking Alya to commit some kinda cyber crime here!”

“Do you have a better idea?” Adrien sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Not yet, dude, but if we just sit on this for a little bit-”

“Marinette can’t afford to sit on this!” Alya butted in. “Every day we waste is another day that slug person uses Gabriel to squash her business!”

“So the answer is just to put yourself in the warpath of a petty megalomaniac on the off-chance there might be something incriminating on Marcel’s laptop?” Nino asked, shaking his head incredulously.

“At least it’s an answer,” Adrien responded standing up with a pained look on his face. “I can’t…we can’t just sit around and wait for a better solution to present itself. We have to move on this; now. Before Marcel gets frustrated enough to try something worse.”

Nino let out a small groan, glancing back and forth between Adrien and Alya helplessly, waiting for one of them to see the madness they were getting into for what it was.

“We’re wasting time,” Adrien said, glancing between Bruno and Alya. “Are you in?”

“I…I suppose,” Bruno sighed, glancing at his watch. “We have to be quick, though; Marcel won’t be to lunch for long.”

“Good…Leon?” Adrien asked.

“Technically speaking, I was never here,” Leon said, raising his hands as he headed towards the door. “I don’t have any knowledge of any suspect information gathering techniques, and have never seen this young woman in my entire life.”

“Guess that’s all I can ask for,” Adrien said, glancing at Alya.

“In,” Alya said without hesitation, not even shooting a glance at Nino as she turned and headed towards the foyer.

“Alya,” Nino pleaded as she was halfway out of the room. “…Adrien.”

Alya let out a deep sigh, shooting him an almost disappointed look. “No one asked you to come,” she said quietly, before heading out the front door.

Adrien lingered for a moment, turning around with half an apology in his eyes and half an apology on his lips, before saying. “…you might want to lock up when you leave.”

Nino just blinked, staring after his best friend and girlfriend as they headed out into the warm afternoon air, feeling for all the world as though he had just been punched in the gut.

“You got the paperwork taken care of?” Adrien asked.

“Drawn up and awaiting your signatures,” Leon’s voice called from the other end of the line. “If anyone asks-”

“You weren’t involved,” Adrien said with a small smile. “Got it.”

Adrien hung up the phone as the car slid into the Gabriel headquarters’ parking garage, leaning back a little out of sight of the security guard as Alya parked the car. There couldn’t be any chance of him being spotted until he was ready, and hopefully there was no need to get involved until absolutely necessary. Still, there was a slim chance that Marcel might discover them before they could do what they needed to do, and if that happened, he needed to be in position as quickly as possible.

They were only going to get one chance at this; Marinette’s future was on the line.

“Everyone ready?” Adrien asked.

“No,” Bruno sighed, turning around to look Adrien. “I have to agree with your friend that this is a big mistake for a number of reasons.”

“I’m sure keeping Marcel’s dirty little secret was a big mistake as well,” Alya said, shooting a small glare at Bruno. “A mistake you now have the chance to correct.”

“This isn’t just about Marinette,” Adrien said, leaning forward. “This company is going to the dogs; losing money isn’t nearly as bad as losing people who have been with Gabriel since I was in diapers. Designers, administrators, even factory workers have been splitting because no one wants to work for Marcel.”

“I’m sure you least of all,” Alya added.

“And it’s not technically stealing,” Adrien reasoned. “Seeing as how I own more stock in Gabriel than anyone else and everything that could incriminate Marcel is on company-owned laptops.”

“I’m sure Mr. Dubois won’t see it that way,” Bruno muttered.

“By the time Mr. Du-buttface knows about it, it’ll be too late for him to do anything about it,” Alya said, glancing back at Adrien. “Right?”

“If everything goes according to plan,” Adrien murmured, glancing at his phone. “…I know you didn’t join this company just to fetch coffee for Marcel Dubois.”

Bruno said nothing, simply staring out the window for a long moment.

“Alright,” Bruno said tersely. “Alright, let’s…let’s just do this.”

The bell over the door to her office jingled, drawing Marinette’s attention away from the dress she was working on as the sound of heavy footsteps made their way towards her office. Tensing, she grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk and clutched them between her fingers. Her partners were still away for lunch, and if Marcel had suddenly decided to be less than subtle about his abuse, Marinette had to be prepared.

“Marinette?” Marinette relaxed as a familiar voice came from behind her office door, dropping her scissors on her desk as Nino let himself in. “Oh god, there you are. You weren’t picking up the phone!”

“Sorry; I left the wireless on and the battery drained right out from under me,” Marinette said, frowning at Nino’s troubled expression. “What’s wrong?”

Nino ran a hand through his hair, stopping as he caught sight of a half-inflated air mattress crammed in the corner with a small snort. “Wow…guess we should have picked up on this sooner.”

“Picked up on-” Marinette followed his eyes to her air mattress with a high pitched laugh. “O-Oh, I’m just holding to that for a friend while they-”

“Yeah, save it,” Nino said, holding a hand up. “We know, okay?”

“Kn-know what?”

“Okay, you can save the innocent routine for later,” Nino said, resting a hand on her shoulder with a deep sigh. “Surprisingly, we’ve got bigger problems than the fact that you’re currently living out of your office.”

“Coast is clear?”

Alya nodded, casually glancing around the corner of the hallway before nodding towards the door. Walking as quickly as they could without drawing attention from the executives milling about the hallway, Bruno and Alya headed towards Marcel’s office, not even stopping as one of the other secretaries glanced up from her work.

“If you’re looking for His Highness, he stepped out almost two hours ago,” the secretary snorted, glancing over the rim of her glasses at Alya. “Friend of yours?”

“A-Ah yes,” Bruno stammered. “This is my sister…’s daughter…which makes her my…niece. Yes…my niece!”

Alya sighed, rolling her eyes behind Bruno’s back before shooting a sunny smile at the receptionist. “Marie Laveau; aspiring fashion designer,” Alya said with a small wave. “Uncle Bruno offered to give me a tour of the Gabriel headquarters after I twisted his arm.”

“A designer?” The receptionist said, raising an eyebrow. “…word to the wise, you might want to consider applying somewhere else unless you’re the type of person who likes getting the soul crushed out of them.”

“Don’t scare the girl,” Bruno laughed nervously, steering Alya towards Marcel’s office. “Buzz me if the boss comes back?”

“Sure, sure,” the receptionist sighed, returning to her magazine as they rounded the corner.

“Real attentive security you got here,” Alya snorted as Bruno opened the door to Gabriel Agreste’s former office. The stark, black and white office gave off an oppressing air of sterility that made Alya’s skin crawl a little. “Ugh, this guy has no design sense at all, does he?”

“…it was like this when Mr. Agreste passed,” Bruno said.

“Wow, I guess Gabe’s ‘artistic genius’ didn’t extend to interior design, didn’t it?” Alya said, eyeing the case of pinned butterflies with a wrinkled nose.

“M-Mr. Agreste was a pioneer in men’s fashion,” Bruno said somewhat tersely. “The fashion world barely used bright red pants before he-”

“Alright, alright, sorry for slaughtering your golden calf,” Alya said, walking over to Marcel’s desk as she pulled a pair of latex gloves on. “Let’s do this.”

Pulling a thumbdrive from her pocket, Alya cracked open the lid of the laptop, being careful not to touch anything too much as she inserted it into the machine. Pulling a roll of electrical tape out of her purse, she covered the webcam on the off chance it was rigged to take pictures of potential intruders.

“…where did you learn how to do this?” Bruno asked, raising an eyebrow.

“One of the best hobby-hackers in Paris,” Alya said simply. “I did him a solid a while ago when his company was just coming up and he’s helped me with my fact-gathering ever since.”

The screen flickered for a moment as Alya sat back in Marcel’s chair, legs crossed and hands folded in her lap as her Bluetooth chirped in her ear.

“Yeah?” Alya said into her earpiece.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Marinette’s panicked voice chirped from the other end of the line, loud enough to make Alya wince and Bruno glance over with a frown as he went over to watch the door.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Little Miss Lies-A-Lot,” Alya drawled, flicking her tablet open to monitor the file transfer progress. “Quick question; were you ever planning on telling us a fashion mogul had his foot on your neck, or was that just gonna be a fun surprise when he ran you out of the business.”

“Okay, look, I’m sorry that I didn’t disclose the frankly Machiavellian dealings I’ve been involved with, but that doesn’t give you license to play Edward Freaking Snowden!” Marinette hissed.

“Who’s playing?” Alya said, watching the files transfer with her lip caught between her teeth. “I assume Nino was the one who snitched, wasn’t he?”

“You mean was Nino the one who told me that my best friend was putting her future on the line for my sake without even telling me?” Marinette replied, earning a small wince from Alya as Bruno shot a look over his shoulder. "When were you planning on letting me know; before or after your day in court?!"

“How much longer?” He whispered.

“Ten minutes,” Alya replied.

“You were going to call me in ten minutes?”

“Look, I’m kinda in the middle of something,” Alya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Tell Nino I’m crashing at Adrien’s place until I can sort through these files.”

“But-“

“Byeeee,” Alya said, hanging up the call and settling back in Marcel’s chair as she dialed Adrien’s number. “You close?”

“You need me?” Adrien responded. “Did something go wrong?”

“Your best friend ratted us out to Marinette, but we can cook that goose when the dressing’s ready,” Alya grumbled.

“Well…at least one of us was honest,” Adrien sighed. “I guess we can ask forgiveness when we’re-”

“Marcel!” Bruno hissed, hiding behind the door. “He’s coming!”

“How long?” Alya asked, pit forming in her stomach as she watched the disappointingly sluggish progress on her screen.

“What’s wrong?” Adrien asked.

“Your boss is back early from his two hour lunch,” Alya said, fidgeting a little in her seat as the possibility of being caught red-handed and arrested for information theft crept up on her. “Time to shine, sunshine.”

“What are we gonna do?” Bruno whined.

“Stall him,” Alya said, nodding out the front door. “Backup’s on the way.”

With a small grimace, Bruno snaked around the door, closing it behind him and leaving Alya alone with her thoughts and Gabriel's creepy, creepy butterfly collection. From her position, she couldn’t hear anything other than faint murmuring which only spiked her anxiety even further. In her earpiece, she could hear Adrien running up the steps, panting with exertion as he tried to head Marcel off before he could break in and catch her pawing through his personal files.

It was then that, for the first time in a very long time, Alya admitted to herself that she just might be a little in over her head.

Adrien couldn’t summit the stairs fast enough, taking them two at a time as he raced towards the top floor. Normally, he didn’t mind being wrong about certain things, but as the initial anger towards Marcel started to fade, Adrien unfortunately had to admit that Nino (bless his long suffering soul) might have been right. In his haste to see Marcel humiliated and dismissed for abusing his father’s company (and Marinette) in such a way, Adrien had overextended himself considerably. He should have waited a day or so; given Bruno a chance to lure Marcel away for longer than an hour or so.

Now, their entire shoddy operation was at risk if Adrien couldn’t get to Marcel before he got to Alya.

Brushing past a startled designer, Adrien cleared the last flight of steps, darting through the door to the executive wing of the top floor just in time to see Marcel brush past Bruno and head towards the door to his father’s office.

Marcel’s hand hovered over the doorknob when Adrien stopped some twenty feet back and called out, “Marcel!”

Half the staff at their desks jumped, heads swiveling around to look at an exhausted looking Adrien and a very perplexed looking Marcel.

“Adrien, is that you?” Marcel asked, thankfully turning his attention away from the office door long enough for Bruno to intersperse himself as casually as he could between the door and Marcel. “Goodness, it’s been months, hasn’t it?”

“G-Give or take,” Adrien panted, running up hands on his sides as he glanced at Bruno. “I was just…in the neighborhood and thought I’d swing by for old times’ sake, you know?”

“Well, I can hardly say the place is the same without you,” Marcel said, laying an uncomfortably familial hand on Adrien’s shoulder as Bruno glanced back into the office as surreptitiously as he could. Adrien wasn’t a violent person by any stretch of the imagination; he had never raised a hand to anyone that wasn’t literally begging for it, usually while bound and blindfolded. But despite that, he had an overwhelming urge to smack Marcel so hard that his disingenuous smile detached and stuck to the wall beside them like a vending machine sticky-hand.

Nevertheless, he returned the smile as naturally as he could, hoping his complete and utter distain for the man wasn’t leaking out the corners of his fake grin. Behind him, the door to Marcel’s office opened silently as Alya snuck behind Bruno’s massive frame before Marcel could notice.

“Would you like to get a coffee?” Adrien managed to say without gagging, steering Marcel towards the break room as Alya and Bruno stole away down a side hallway towards the garage. “I feel like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”

“Hi, you’ve reached Adrien. I can’t get to the phone at the moment, so please leave your name and number and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks!”

Beep!

Marinette stared at her phone for a long moment before wordlessly hanging up. There were a lot of things she needed to say to Adrien, and nothing she wanted to say to his answering machine. Sighing, she pocketed her phone, mechanically filling out order forms while Nino worked on the couch.

“Nothing?” Nino asked over the rim of his laptop.

“Nothing,” Marinette sighed, head in her hands as she stared blankly at the screen. “…how did we get here? I mean, h-how did you guys even find out?”

“You left a hairdryer at Adrien’s place and he swung by your apartment to drop it off,” Nino said, earning a frustrated groan as Marinette sunk her head down onto the desk. “Bruno was hanging out around there-”

“Marcel’s Bruno?” Marinette said, sitting up a little warily. The larger man hadn’t seemed dangerous when she met him, but strangers poking around her address was always a cause for concern.

“Not anymore,” Nino said, crossing his legs as he leaned back on the couch. “Dude flipped after ten seconds and spilled the beans; about Marcel and how Gabriel is being used to settle a personal vendetta.”

“He couldn’t deal with the fact that Adrien wanted to quit, so he started threatening his loved ones…or liked ones in my case,” Marinette sighed, glancing up at Nino. “I’m surprised he didn’t go after you as well.”

“Meh, he probably knew he couldn’t leverage Gabriel to hurt my career as much as he could yours,” Nino shrugged. “And after you told him to go fuck himself, I’m sure he got tunnel vision and doubled down on putting you out of business.”

“Lucky me,” Marinette said, leaning back in her chair and chewing her lip irately. Discovering that Adrien had taken it upon himself to crusade on her behalf wasn’t nearly as rewarding as she originally thought. Maybe it was just her pride flaring up in response to her business acumen being challenged, but a small part of Marinette privately thought she could have won this without involving Adrien. The fact that corporate espionage was the only thing that was going to save her business from ruin wasn’t the best feeling in the world, especially since neither Adrien nor Alya asked before enacting some harebrained scheme that would likely end with them both in jail.

“Should I call him again?” Marinette asked.

“He’s probably busy,” Nino shrugged, standing up with a slow stretch. “You like Korean barbecue?”

“Don’t think I’ve ever had it,” Marinette said with a small frown as Nino closed his laptop and stowed it in his bag.

“There’s a pretty good place nearby,” Nino said, jerking his thumb vaguely over his shoulder. “And you look like you could use a drink and some good hot meat.”

“Phrasing,” Marinette chuckled, staring at her order forms for a long moment before logging off and shutting down her computer. “Should we invite our cyberterrorist SO’s?”

“Nah,” Nino shrugged. “They’re probably having too much fun without us…”

“Holyshitholyshitholyshitholyshiiiiit,” Alya panted, clutching her tablet to her chest as Adrien locked the front door behind them. “I can’t believe that worked!”

“I was either going to kill him, or die from boredom,” Adrien said, shuddering as he recalled the nearly half an hour he needed to spend with Marcel before Alya called him, pretending to be a sick aunt. By the time he was done, and Bruno dropped them off at Adrien's house, Adrien felt like a fox caught in a bear trap. "We did it though, right? What did you do exactly?”

“Set it up so we could access his desktop remotely,” Alya said, plunking her laptop down on the kitchen table and opening it.

“Really?” Adrien said. “You can do that?”

“Remember the Department of Sanitation scandal I broke last month?” Alya chuckled.

“…oh my god," Adrien said almost reverently.

“It’s nothing fancy; people do it to work remotely all the time,” Alya shrugged, brow creasing as prompt popped up on her screen. “…though apparently Marcel custom ordered his security system.”

“Can you break in?” Adrien asked.

“I can try but we probably shouldn’t try anything until he goes home for the day,” Alya said, glancing at Adrien’s phone in his hand. “…did they call?”

“I have a voicemail,” Adrien said a little sheepishly. “Probably not good…”

Alya sighed, scowling at the computer screen. “You know what? She can be mad all she wants,” Alya said, closing the laptop with a small huff. “She should have told us about this!”

“Yeah…probably,” Adrien said, folding his arms and leaning against the counter.

“Definitely,” Alya corrected, turning around in her chair to look at him. “I mean…why would she keep something like this a secret from us?”

“I couldn’t say,” Adrien sighed, glancing down at floor thoughtfully. It was hard to parse out exactly what he was feeling, but underneath the vitriolic anger he felt towards Marcel, there was a flickering bit of hurt betrayal. He knew that his relationship with Marinette wasn’t romantic, but it still required a degree of trust and honest disclosure. The fact was that Marinette knew that his father’s company was being used as a weapon against her and God knew who else, and she somehow decided that he didn’t need to know about it.

So while he was sympathetic to the fact that she had been blackmailed by someone with more power and privilege than she had, Adrien couldn’t shake the uncomfortable feeling that Marinette didn’t trust him as much as he thought she did.

“Unbelievable,” Marinette muttered as she glared at the sizzling meat in front of her.

“I know, this bulgogi is out of this world,” Nino said, plucking a piece off the grill and placing it neatly on the top of Marinette’s untouched pillow of rice.

“That’s not what I meant,” Marinette said sourly, taking a long drink out of her beer. “I cannot seriously believe that we’re holed up somewhere while Adrien and Alya attempt corporate espionage.”

“Really?” Nino chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You find it hard to believe that Adrien and Alya would break into a multi-national fashion conglomerate to try and get the CEO who’s been blackmailing you fired? What part of this is out of character for either of them?”

“Is it?” Marinette said, sitting up a little. “I didn’t think bestie privileges included infiltration and extraction.”

“Does where you’re concerned,” Nino shrugged, popping another piece of meat in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “You can’t be so surprised that people like you, can you?”

“No, but this is a little much don’t you think?” Marinette said, glancing across the table at Nino. “…are you okay?”

“Fine,” Nino shrugged noncommittally, busying himself with cooking another piece of meat as Marinette held her soft, concerned expression. He put his chopsticks down with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair as he stared down at the sizzling meat thoughtfully. “I don’t know, I just…”

He let out a small, half-embarrassed laugh. “I guess there was just a moment today when my girlfriend and my best friend just kinda blew past me like they didn’t even care what I thought…and that’s not the best feeling in the world, you know?”

“Actually…I don’t,” Marinette said, stomach churning unpleasantly. She couldn’t imagine feeling like the two people she cared about most outside her family didn’t care about her thoughts or feelings…but then again, that would never be a problem where Adrien and Alya were concerned. The fact that they had ignored Nino’s concerns was proof of that fact, and Marinette wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly felt like he wasn’t as important to them as they were to him.

“Hey,” Nino said with a small, reassuring smile. “This isn’t your fault, you know.”

“Isn’t it?” Marinette sighed, nibbling on a corner of her beef. “If I had just been honest about all this from the get go-”

“Adrien and Alya can be miffed all they want, but you got backed into a corner by someone with more power and influence than any of us has,” Nino said, hand resting on her shoulder with a small squeeze. “I think you deserve a little slack for that.”

Marinette visibly relaxed, squeezing Nino’s hand with a small smile.

“You know something…they’re both lucky to have you,” Marinette said. “I guess I am too.”

“Course they are,” Nino said with a lopsided smile that turned into a wince as he realized his meat was burning. “You need a place to crash for the night?”

“Yeah, I think my dad’s air-mattress quit after months of overwork,” Marinette said, tucking into the small pile of rice, veggies, and meat Nino had piled on her plate. “Sounds like Alya is crashing at Adrien’s while they try and get Marcel fired-”

“Excuse me?!”

Marinette’s heart sunk to the bottom of her stomach, for one horrible moment believing that she had let slip too much to the wrong person who chanced to walk by their table. Then she whipped around, saw Chloe arm-in-arm with Nathanael with a look on her face like Père Noël had brought her the pony she always wanted for Christmas.

“Actually, miss, I think we’ll just sit here,” Chloe said with a frankly worrying smile. “And catch up with some friends.”

“You have, ONE new voice message! First voice message!”

Adrien stared blankly at the sound of crackling static that lingered for a few moments before being cut off by the cheery pre-recorded sound of his answering machine. Hesitating, his thumb hovered over Marinette’s contact information for a long moment before Adrien switched his phone off and stowed it in his pocket. There were too many layers to the conversation he wanted to have for it to happen over the phone, and he couldn’t focus on their relationship while he was trying to dredge up information that would get Marcel fired.

Or, more accurately, while Alya was trying to dredge up information that would get Marcel fired.

“How’s it going?” Adrien asked, clearing away a carton of takeout food Alya had munched on without looking up from her computer.

“If you ask me that again, I’m going to throw this computer through the wall,” Alya sighed, staring at the flickering screen that seemed to mock her. “It’s going the same as it’s been going for the last hour and a half, which is to say nowhere!”

“You want to take a break?” Adrien asked, refilling her water glass from a pitcher on the table. “I can always try?”

Alya let out a slightly manic laugh. “Funny,” she said, patting him on the arm. “No…I think I’ve reached the limits of what I can do with this. I’m not exactly a pro, you know.”

“That’s fine,” Adrien sighed, patting her on the shoulder. “We can figure this out some other—who are you texting?”

“My tech guy,” Alya said, firing off a text message and standing up with a lazy stretch. “If he can’t crack it, we’ll have to try something else…hey, you mind if I use the shower?”

“Not at all,” Adrien said, nodding towards his bedroom. “Take a bath if you want…are you going home tonight?”

“I don’t think so,” Alya sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “L-Lot to do here, you know?”

Adrien felt a gnawing tingle of guilt in his stomach as Alya lingered on the threshold of his kitchen. “Are you…still upset that Nino told Marinette?”

Alya chuckled humorlessly, running a hand through her hair. “I want to be but…I’ve kinda run out of reasons.”

“You know he was just looking out for you,” Adrien said softly. “He loves you, you know.”

“…I know,” Alya sighed. “I just…don’t really know how to deal with that yet, you know?”

With that she turned, dialing a phone number as she traipsed towards the bathroom.

“Yeah,” Adrien said to himself as she vanished around the corner. “I know.”

The tinny 8-bit ringtone drew Max’s attention away from the figure in front of him only long enough to shift the pitcher of wax from one hand to the other and answer the phone.

“Don’t tell me it didn’t work,” Max said, a little more irritably than he might have intended.

“Well, hello to you too sunshine,” Alya said. “Am I interrupting something?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” Max replied, cradling his phone between his cheek and shoulder as he thumbed a dial on a remote that made his partner gasp through a squeaky red ball-gag, back arching as the buzzing between their legs picked up in intensity. “Forgive the bluntness, but I’m doing something that requires my undivided attention here.”

“…I don’t want to know.”

“I don’t want to tell you,” Max sighed, turning the knob back down a few clicks and smirking at the frustrated whine that escaped his partner’s lips. “Give me the Gilmore Girls version.”

“Pardon?”

“Talk fast,” Max said, meeting his partner’s annoyed expression with an apologetic glance. “Please tell me that my backdoor didn’t get defeated by a fashion company's IT specialist.”

“The backdoor wasn’t the problem,” Alya sighed. “His desktop is a little harder to crack than I expected and the usual tips and tricks aren’t cutting it.”

“Alright,” Max sighed, dipping his finger in the wax pitcher to check for temperature. “Give me a few hours and I’ll be able to look at them for you; shouldn’t take me too long to get what you want out of him.”

“You know, I think your partner’s cockiness is beginning to rub off on you,” Alya chuckled.

“You would not the first person to suggest that,” Max chuckled. “Okay, turn off the laptop, shut down the internet, and I’ll be there around eight…maybe nine.”

With that, he hung up the phone, watching Alix’s eyes follow the pitcher of pink as it hovered over their body for a long agonizing moment.

“Sorry for the interruption,” Max said, thumbing the vibrator control thoughtfully as he poured a line of hot wax down Alix’s trembling thighs. “Now then…where were we?”

A fashion designer, a photographer, a game designer, and a maître-d walk into a Korean barbecue restaurant.

As much as that sounded like the setup to a very bad (and potentially racist) joke, Marinette found herself sitting opposite Chloe gleefully gushing at the possibility that Adrien’s former boss might be out on his ass by the end of the week.

“You know, I have to say I never expected you to be so excited about the personal downfall of Marcel Dubois,” Marinette said, crossing her legs and squinting at Chloe.

“You mean her mortal enemy since she was sixteen years old?” Nathanael chuckled.

“I thought I was her mortal enemy when she was sixteen years old,” Marinette said.

“Aww, that’s cute,” Chloe cooed, savoring a bite of meat off the tip of Nathanael’s chopsticks. “But you didn’t mistake me for a hooker the first time you saw me, so you were never actually in the running for mortal enemy status.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Marinette said, nose wrinkling. “Just how long has this guy been an absolute scumbag?”

“Probably since he crawled fully formed out of a mud-hole like an uruk-hai or something,” Chloe muttered, meeting Nino’s curious glance with a roll of her eyes. “Oh, don’t look so surprised; everyone’s seen Lord of the Rings.”

“Yeah, well, sadly there aren’t any short hairy men to save us this time,” Marinette muttered.

“Only tall, blond, strikingly good looking ones?” Nathanael said, piling another bit of kimchi on his rice. “Remind me again why you’re unhappy about this?”

“Because he just…barreled ahead without even talking to me about it first,” Marinette huffed, running a hand through her hair. “And press-ganged my best friend into his half-baked scheme while he was at it.”

“A scheme designed to move the boot off your company’s throat?” Chloe asked, raising an eyebrow. “I get why he’s miffed, what with trying to save your idiot partners from potential litigation only to have them brush him off like he was out of his mind-”

“Thank you!” Nino said, throwing his hands up.

“-but everything seems to be coming up Marinette if this plan goes through, so why look the gift horse in the mouth?”

“Because I…” Marinette let out a frustrated growl that drew a passing waitress’ attention. “I wanted to handle this myself! The whole reason I didn’t tell Adrien was because I was worried he might just run back to Gabriel to take the pressure off me! I didn't want him to go back to Marcel just because I told him to go screw himself!”

“Seriously?” Chloe snorted, hot sauce nearly running out her nose as she rolled her eyes at Marinette. “You know, sometimes I forget you haven’t known him as long as I have.”

“And that’s supposed to mean what, exactly?” Marinette said, eyes narrowing at the blonde across from her.

Chloe rested her chopsticks on the side of her dish, wiping her mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Marcel might have been able to pull Adrien back in if he had made it look like the company was floundering without him or fed him another line where it put the burden of the company back on his shoulders,” Chloe explained as though Marinette was a particularly slow five year old. “In fact, he could have still triggered the Agreste Self-Sacrifice Switch if he hadn’t jumped the gun and threatened you first. The minute that happened, not only would Adrien have not gone back, but he would have probably kickstarted this whole plan to put Monsieur Dubois out on his fat wrinkly ass all the sooner.”

“Seriously?” Marinette said, raising an eyebrow. Loathe as she was to admit it, but Chloe had known Adrien almost literally three times as long as Marinette did, and the fact that Chloe might have better insight into the workings of her datemate was something Marinette hadn’t considered until now.

"Marcel crossed a line," Nathanael said simply. "After he did that, his fate was sealed."

“Hate to say it, but that definitely tracks,” Nino said. “As dumb as this whole plan is, it probably would have shook out the same way if had you just told him back in February.”

“Well, gee whiz, that makes me feel super!” Marinette groaned, flicking a piece of rice onto the skillet. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?!”

There was a long moment of silence as Nino just stared deadpan at her.

“Oh…yeah, I would have had to tell you first, right?”

Ding-dong!

“You mind getting that?” Alya asked, chewing on the ends of her still-drying hair as she sat swaddled in a pair of pajamas she borrowed from Adrien.

“You expecting someone?” Adrien asked, frowning at the front door.

“Our tech support,” Alya said, opening the laptop and reconnecting it to the internet as Adrien made his way uncertainly into the foyer. Hand closed around the haft of an umbrella in case Marcel had somehow found out they had jacked his files and sent a Serbian hitman to kill them, Adrien slowly opened his front door.

“Nice home defense system, dude,” a familiar voice snickered as the door swung wide enough to reveal Alix standing on his stoop, toe holding the door open as another figure climbed up the stairs behind them, a thick black computer bag dangling from each shoulder.

“Alix?” Adrien asked, squinting into the dim street light. “And…wait, Max?”

It had been a while since Adrien had seen his former classmate, and of all the former members of Ms. Bustier’s class, Max had been one of the ones to really come into his own. Dressed in a smart blue sweater, khaki slacks, and blue high tops, he cut a decidedly more distinguished figure than his partner clad in the same running shorts and tank-top they wore to the gym earlier that morning.

“Long time, no see, Agreste,” Max panted, hauling the bags up the steps and into the kitchen past a bewildered looking Adrien.

“How long have you two been…”

“Two and a half years, thanks for asking about my personal life,” Alix chuckled, tapping Adrien in the stomach as they followed Max into the kitchen. "You think you would have made some fucking pleasantries, seeing as how Kim has you doing CrossFit four days a week."

“You’re always with a client at the gym; we never really talk much,” Adrien muttered stowing his umbrella and locking the front door.

“Whatever you say, dude,” Alix chuckled, turning with a low whistle as they took in the kitchen and the living room before them. “Man…I forgot how rich you are.”

“He’s a modest one; that’s for sure,” Alya commented as she padded into living room with a small wave. “Thanks for coming.”

“Please,” Max said with a dismissive wave. “If this man is half as crooked as you’ve led me to believe he is, this will be a personal pleasure…not to mention good karma. Do we still have a backdoor?”

“I managed that much,” Alya said, watching Max take a small, black box out of his bag and plug it into the laptop. "Getting to the goal is still a little challenging."

“…do I want to know what that is?” Adrien asked.

“It’ll do what it needs to do in the time it takes to explain it to you,” Max said, tilting the laptop screen away from the window as he sat down at the table.

“Do you know what it does?” Adrien muttered to Alix.

“Not especially,” Alix shrugged, hopping up on the counter with a small wince that didn’t escape Adrien’s notice. “…shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Adrien said, holding his hands up with a small smirk. “Just curious as to why you needed two hours before you could come over…think I understand now.”

“Yeah, as if,” Alix snorted, lightly prodding Adrien’s side with their shoe. “You understand only what I want you to understand, Agreste.”

“Right, right,” Adrien said, turning his attention back to Max who was feverishly typing something, glancing at his tablet every few seconds with a thoughtful nod. “You sure this isn’t going to be traced back to us?”

“If your IT specialist even bothers to look, it’ll be traced to a junk address in Switzerland,” Max said, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he stared at the screen. “You and Alya should be off the hook…probably.”

“Probably?” Alya said, eyebrows raising.

“Nothing is ever guaranteed,” Max said, folding his hands in front of his face as the light from the computer reflected off his glasses. “That said, Marcel might not be the only person you need to replace if I can punch through this easily. You may need to clean out your IT division while you're at it.”

“Are you in?” Alix asked with a cheeky grin. “Go on…say it; I know you want to.”

“…I’m in,” Max said, adjusting his glasses and leaning back with a small, self-satisfied smirk. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out another device, plugging it into the laptop and angling it towards the bare wall over Adrien’s fireplace. Turning off the light, he fired up the device which projected the laptop screen onto the living room wall where everyone could see it. “The personal files of one Marcel Dubois are available for your consideration.”

“So, we’re looking at his computer right now?” Adrien asked, ambling into the living room to stand behind Alya’s chair. “What happens if he logs in?”

“Is he the sort of person who works this late?” Max asked.

“Fair,” Adrien said, lacing his fingers behind his head. “Any idea where to start?”

“Well, we could always try his work-email,” Max said, cursor hovering over the email tab. “But unless he’s an absolute idiot, there’s no way he would leave himself logged in when he was away from-”

Max trailed off as the email client opened without asking for a password, sighing deeply as Marcel’s inbox popped open for all of them to see.

“…you know, we might as well just rob the company while we’re at it,” Max huffed, folding his arms. “Destabilize the stock prices; send Ralph Lauren lewd pictures. I mean, why not, if your CEO is just going to leave himself open to attack like this.”

“Max, I think you missed your true calling as an evil genius,” Alya chuckled.

“Oh trust me; he has ways of letting his evil genius shine,” Alix snickered, earning a small wink from their partner. “Shouldn’t we wait for Nino and Marinette to get here?”

“They’re…not really a part of this,” Adrien sighed, noticing the way Alya chewed on her lower lip unhappily.

“Marital troubles?” Max asked.

“We’re not a couple of couples, you know,” Alya said. “Or…whatever you call that.”

“Shame; you would make a cute foursome,” Alix said thoughtfully.

“Thank you for your input, Bubblicious,” Alya said, leaning in as Max scrolled down the email chain for a few, tense minutes. “Wait a minute, he’s talking about signing off on paystubs in one of those up there; scroll up.”

Max opened the email, eyes scanning the text blown up on the wall as he and Adrien seemed to go through the same range of emotions; confusion, realization, and grim satisfaction all within the span of a handful of seconds.

“Wait, I don’t get it,” Alix frowned, hopping off the counter. “Why would the CEO of the whole damn company need to authorize paystubs for a couple of warehouse workers in Hong Kong?”

“And why would a couple of warehouse workers make the equivalent seventy-five thousand euros a month each,” Alya said, turning around with a savage smirk. “Unless that’s the going rate for warehouse workers at Gabriel, in which case I’m in the wrong line of work.”

"Oooooh," Alix said, nodding in realization. "Someone's been baaaad, haven't they?"

“Very, very bad,” Alya said, turning to Adrien. "How do you want to do this?"

Adrien turned to Max with a small shrug. "Wouldn't it be a shame if Marcel accidentally CC'd me and Gabriel's CFO in his emails?"

"Terrible shame," Max agreed, highlighting a few of the most incriminating ones with a toothy grin.

“Well…this was fun,” Nathanael said as the quartet stepped into the warm summer night.

“Was it?” Chloe muttered, glancing at the morose pair they had shared dinner with as they turned their backs.

“I was being polite,” Nathanael whispered, smiling before they could turn back around.

“Thanks for…I don’t know, hearing us out,” Marinette said with a small shrug. She never thought there would come a day when Chloe Bourgeois would be a source of emotional support, but then again she never thought there would come a day when corporate espionage would be part of her daily life.

“No sweat,” Nathanael said with a dismissive wave.

“My advice is wait for the dust to clear and then yell at him all you want,” Chloe snickered, turning and offering a small wave over her shoulder. “Ciao!”

Nino and Marinette watched Nathanael and Chloe meander down the street for a moment before letting out a pair of identical sighs.

“You still need a futon to sleep on?” Nino asked, scratching the back of his neck.

For a moment, Marinette considered brushing him off, asking for a ride back to her office to attempt to inflate her tattered old air mattress. But after the day she had, she was simply too tired for pointless pride.

“That would be great,” Marinette said, leaning her head against Nino’s shoulder. “I’m just…tired, I guess.”

“Me too, Mari,” Nino said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and steering her down the sidewalk. “Me too.”

Half-tipsy, Marinette leaned on Nino as she wondered what kind of mayhem Alya and Adrien were getting up to on their own, and what the next few days would bring.

“Do we need to start charging people for advice?” Chloe asked, meandering down the street towards the apartment she shared with Nathanael. “I feel like we’re leaving money on the table every time our screwball social circle has an emotional crisis.”

“Are we really that qualified to give advice?” Nathanael laughed.

“Apparently more than they are,” Chloe said. "Somehow our love life is less complicated than half of Paris'."

“And in the land of the blind, the one eyed couple are-” Nathanael said, stopping as Chloe stopped in front of a bakery, tugging him towards the door.

“I want a cookie,” Chloe muttered, dragging him into the warmth of the sweet-shop. “Sorting out Adrien's love life gives me the munchies-"

Chloe trailed off as her phone buzzed in her purse, fishing it out and laughing as Adrien’s face appeared on the screen. “Guess who…hello?”

Chloe’s expression turned from confusion to pure, unadulterated glee in the span of six seconds as she leaned over the counter, cupping her hand around the speaker. “Excuse me, how much would it cost to get a custom sheet-cake made by tomorrow at twelve?”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the munchies,” Nathanael said softly.

“It’s not for me,” Chloe snickered, beaming with malicious glee. “It’s for a little party Adrien’s throwing tomorrow at the office...one I've been looking forward to for a long long time."