The Heiress Gambit-Chapter 81- PAIGE

AUTHOR

In the drugged, hazy space between sleep and waking, Payton’s mind was a prison. A single, horrifying loop played over and over, each time carving the truth deeper into her soul.

It started with Paige. She saw her sister, standing tall and defiant in their father’s study, her voice clear and sharp as broken glass. "I will not marry him." Shunsuke’s face, cold and unmovable. In the memory, Payton remembered feeling a thrill. Good, she had thought. Let her be the difficult one. Let her be the disappointment. Paige was cast out, and overnight, she became the villain of the family story. The ungrateful daughter. The one who threw it all away.

Then the scene shifted. She saw her father’s face, but this time it was turned to her. His eyes were warm with approval.

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You are the perfect one, Payton. My true heir. You are irreplaceable." She had basked in that warmth, believing every word. She was the golden child. The chosen one.

But then the nightmare twisted. The warmth in his eyes vanished, replaced by a wild, inhuman rage. The same hand that had rested so proudly on her shoulder was now clutching a gun. And the barrel was pointed at her. She saw his finger tighten. She saw the utter lack of hesitation. There was no love there. No pride. There was only the cold calculation of a man who saw something—someone—as disposable.

The two images smashed together—the proud father and the would-be murderer—and the contradiction tore her apart.

"Fuck!"

Her eyes snapped open. A sharp, gasping breath filled her lungs. The first thing she registered was the sterile, clean smell of antiseptic. The second was a dull, throbbing ache in her shoulder.

Her gaze darted around the white, impersonal room, landing on the IV line taped to her arm. The hospital. The memory of the gunshot slammed back into her, and a fresh wave of nausea and terror washed over her.

A nurse, hearing her cry out, hurried in. Seeing she was awake, the woman offered a gentle, professional smile. "I’ll let your family know you’re up," she said softly before slipping back out.

Minutes later, the door opened again. Barbara entered first, her face pale and etched with a worry so deep it had worn grooves around her eyes. Denki was right behind her, his own expression a mixture of exhaustion, relief, and a fierce, protective intensity.

The nurse quietly left, closing the door and leaving them in a heavy silence.

"Payton? Baby, how are you feeling?" Barbara asked, her voice trembling as she approached the bed.

Payton just nodded slowly, her mind reeling. The nightmare loop was gone, but the brutal clarity it left behind was even more painful. She was seeing her father for what he truly was—a hollow man who valued control over love—not the hero he had always pretended to be.

Denki moved to the other side of the bed. Without a word, he reached out and took her free hand, his fingers lacing tightly with hers. The simple, firm contact was a silent promise. I’m here. I never left. I’m not going anywhere.

His touch grounded her. She looked from his worried face to her mother’s, the two people who had raced her here, who had stayed. Her eyes, still wide with shock, finally landed and stayed on Barbara.

A single, devastating truth crystallized in her fractured mind. All the petty jealousy, the years of competing for a prize that was never real, the sheer waste of it all.

Her lips were dry. Her throat felt tight. She swallowed with difficulty, her voice a raw, broken whisper as she uttered the only name that mattered in that moment of painful, world-shattering understanding.

"Paige."

The name hung in the sterile hospital air, so unexpected it seemed to change the very quality of the light. Barbara’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up towards her hairline. She stared at her daughter, then her eyes darted to Denki, seeking confirmation that she had heard correctly. Paige? After everything? After all the venom, the competition, the cruel words Payton had always hurled at her sister?

Denki, equally surprised, leaned in a little closer. His voice was gentle, cautious. "Payton? What about Paige?" He squeezed her hand, trying to anchor her. Was she confused from the pain medication? Was this a delusion?

But Payton’s eyes, though clouded with pain and drugs, held a strange, sharp clarity. A desperate need. "Where is she?" she whispered, her voice raspy. "I have to see Paige. I need to see her."

Barbara’s mind raced, trying to catch up. This made no sense. The two sisters had been bitter rivals for years. Payton had rejoiced in Paige’s exile. Why now? Why, when she was at her most vulnerable, would her first thought be of the sister she had despised?

"Payton, honey, why?" Barbara asked, her voice soft but layered with confusion and concern. She reached out to smooth the hair from Payton’s forehead. "Why do you need to see her? You need to rest. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal."

Payton shook her head on the pillow, a frantic, weak motion. She didn’t have the words to explain the storm inside her. She couldn’t articulate the nightmare loop, the shattering of the illusion of her father’s love, or the crushing guilt that now felt heavier than the pain in her shoulder.

All she knew was a primal, overwhelming pull. Paige was the only one who would understand. Paige was the one who had seen their father’s true nature first. She was the only one who had escaped.

"I just... I need to," she insisted, her voice gaining a sliver of strength, fueled by sheer desperation. "Please. I have to talk to her."

Barbara looked from her daughter’s pleading, desperate face to Denki’s watchful one. She saw the determination there, a need that went beyond reason. Arguing would only upset Payton more, and the doctors had said she needed to stay calm. With a slow, resigned sigh, Barbara made a decision. This was not the time for old grudges.

She gave a small, almost imperceptible nod to Denki. Her eyes communicated a silent message. Go. Find her. Tell her what happened. And... plead with her. Please, ask her to come.

Denki understood. He gave Payton’s hand one last, firm squeeze, a silent promise that he would do this for her. He stood, his own heart a tangled knot of worry and hope. Without another word, he turned and left the room, his mission clear: to bridge the chasm that a lifetime of lies and competition had created, and bring Paige to her sister’s bedside.

– – –

REOMEN

4:00 PM.

The late afternoon sun cast long, lazy shadows across the bedroom, painting everything in shades of gold and quiet contentment. Paige was curled against me, the warmth of her skin a familiar, grounding heat against my side.

The silk duvet was tangled around our legs, the only cover we needed. The scent of her, of us, clung to the air—a mix of clean sweat and her perfume.

A laptop was balanced on her thighs, the screen glowing with the dry, satisfying evidence of Yamada’s betrayal. In my hands, I held the heavier weight of printed pages—screenshots of Shunsuke’s frantic, stupid messages to the Okubo gang. Each line was a nail in his coffin, and holding them here, with her, felt like a victory lap.

But my focus was split. The corporate destruction was a thrilling game, but the woman beside me was a living, breathing addiction.

I let the papers rustle as I set them aside on the nightstand. My gaze traveled from the damning evidence to the smooth, elegant line of Paige’s back as she leaned over the screen.

"You’re getting lazy in bed, Black Cat," I murmured, my voice a low rumble. I trailed my fingers down the notches of her spine, feeling her shiver under my touch. "A few months ago, you’d have clawed my eyes out for bringing work into this room. Now you’re the one with the spreadsheet."

She didn’t look up, but a small, tired smile played on her lips. "Gee, I wonder why," she said, her tone dripping with dry sarcasm. She finally glanced at me, her eyes flicking down to her own stomach and then back to mine. "Maybe it’s the tiny human sapping all my energy and turning my brain to mush. A little parasite you so generously donated."

A dark, possessive pleasure curled in my gut. My parasite. Our heir. "The most valuable merger I’ve ever orchestrated," I fired back, leaning in to press a kiss to her bare shoulder. "And you’re welcome. But I still want a do-over. One where you’re not mentally calculating stock percentages."

Before she could offer another witty retort, I moved. In one fluid motion, I shifted the laptop from her lap and placed it carefully on my own abandoned stack of papers.

Then I was over her, caging her in with my arms, my body hovering just above hers. The world narrowed to this: the sight of her beneath me, her hair fanned out on the pillows, her eyes wide with mock indignation.

"This is a hostile takeover," she stated, but her hands came up to rest on my chest, not pushing me away, but holding on.

"The best kind," I agreed, lowering my head, my lips a breath from hers. I was going to kiss her, to lose myself in the taste of her and forget about empires and enemies for just a little while longer.

The sharp, electronic buzz of the intercom shattered the moment like a gunshot.

I froze. A wave of pure, unadulterated annoyance washed over me. Who the hell dares?

With a frustrated growl, I rolled off her, the cool air hitting my skin. I snatched my black robe from the foot of the bed, shrugging into it as I stalked over to the intercom panel on the wall. I jammed my thumb on the button.

"This had better be a fire," I snapped into the speaker.

My head of security’s voice, calm and apologetic, came through. "My apologies, Mr. Daki. There’s a Denki Fujii here to see you. He’s... insistent."

Denki?

The name was a jolt of ice water. My mind, which had been soft and focused only on Paige, instantly sharpened, clicking into a cold, analytical gear. Every instinct went on high alert.

After everything—the betrayal, the spying, the planted leaks—what possible reason could he have to show his face here? Was this a trick? A desperate, final play from Shunsuke?

I glanced back at Paige. She had pulled the duvet up to her chin, her expression a mirror of my own confusion and wariness.

I let out a long, controlled breath, reining in the urge to tell security to throw him out on the street. Curiosity, and a healthy dose of suspicion, won out. I needed to know what game he was playing now.

"Fine," I bit out into the intercom. "Bring him up to the main living area. I’ll be out in a moment."

I released the button and turned back to the room, to Paige. The intimate bubble was gone, popped by the ghost of our greatest betrayal. The war had just found its way back into our bedroom.