Seventh Inning Stretch

The iPhone vibrated in Elena's pocket — third time since the seventh inning stretch. She checked it under the guise of wiping sweat from her brow. The encrypted chat app showed one unread message: 'Target confirmed. Section 204. Blue cap.'

Her husband Mark sat beside her, oblivious, engrossed in the baseball game as their son Charlie downed his third overpriced snow cone. Ten years of marriage, five of corporate espionage for a rival firm, and somehow Mark still thought she was just a pharmaceutical sales rep. The irony tasted bitterer than the warm beer in her hand.

'You okay?' Mark asked, finally noticing her distraction. 'You've been checking your phone all night.'

'Work,' she lied smoothly. 'Mergers and acquisitions don't sleep.'

Below them, the man in section 204 stood up to grab a concession. Her employer's rival chief technology officer — the spy who'd been stealing trade secrets for months. Her job tonight: photograph him meeting his contact. But her phone camera wasn't focused on the field. It was pointed at the luxury boxes above home plate.

Where Mark's boss sat. laughing with someone Elena recognized immediately — the woman who'd recruited her into corporate spying three years ago.

The pieces clicked into place with sickening clarity. Mark wasn't just oblivious. He was the asset. The fake sales calls, the late nights, the sudden interest in her 'work trips' — he'd been gathering intelligence on her company all along.

'Charlie,' Elena said, her voice steady despite her racing heart. 'Give me your phone for a second. I want to show Mommy something.'

She snapped three photos in rapid succession: Mark's boss with her handler, the contact at section 204, and finally, Mark himself — smiling, innocent, completely unaware that his wife had just burned his career to the ground.

'What are you doing?' Mark asked, frowning.

Elena handed back Charlie's phone and stood up. 'Just work, honey. You know how it is.'

The baseball game continued around them, but the real match had just ended. In corporate espionage, as in marriage, someone always has to lose.