The Heiress Gambit-Chapter 50- Accusation

PAIGE

The first thing I felt was the throb.

A deep, dull ache in my cheekbone, a constant reminder of the night before. The numb haze was gone, replaced by a sharp, persistent pain that pulsed with every heartbeat.

But wrapped around that pain was a different memory—the feel of Reomen’s arms, solid and sure, holding me through the dark. The low murmur of his voice asking, "Are you okay?" every time I stirred. The way he’d adjusted the ice pack in his sleep.

For a few hazy minutes, wrapped in the scent of him on his sheets, I just let that memory hold me. The safety of it. The quiet.

Then reality knocked, sharp and insistent.

The other side of the bed was empty, cool. A note was on his pillow, his sharp, slashing handwriting: At an off-site meeting. Rest. Don’t argue. I almost smiled. Of course he’d preemptively forbid me from working.

But the world doesn’t stop. I had a mountain of work. The Rimestone deal, the capital calls, the endless financial models. He wasn’t here. So I got up, my body feeling heavy and sore, and went to my home office.

I buried myself in spreadsheets, the blue glow of the screen a poor substitute for the warmth of the morning. The throb in my face was a metronome counting out the hours.

My phone buzzed once on the desk. A news alert. I ignored it, my fingers flying over the keyboard, inputting data for the Q3 projections.

It buzzed again. And again.

Then it didn’t stop. A frantic, vibrating eruption of noise. A chorus of buzzing, each one a new notification.

A cold trickle of dread, entirely separate from the pain in my face, started down my spine. I finally looked.

The screen was a wall of headlines from every major financial blog and news outlet.

DAKI TECH FACES CORPORATE ESPIONAGE ALLEGATIONS

MAJOR DEAL COLLAPSES AMID LEAK SCANDAL

INSIDER: CONFIDENTIAL DATA SABOTAGED LUMINEX MERGER

The words blurred together. Leaked confidential information. Espionage. The deal I secured.

My deal..

The one I’d fought for, the one that was supposed to be my masterpiece, the proof of my worth beyond my name.

My breath hitched. The throb in my cheek was nothing compared to the sudden, sickening lurch in my stomach. This was a targeted attack. This was precise. This was personal.

Without thinking, my fingers trembling, I scrolled for his name—Reomen—and hit the call button.

I pressed the phone to my ear, my good cheek, listening to the ring. Once. Twice.

It rang out. No answer.

I called again. Same thing. Just the endless, hollow ringing in the silence of the penthouse.

He always picked up. Always. Even when he was in a meeting, he’d send a one-word text. Busy.

The phone slipped from my numb fingers and clattered onto the glass desk.

The silence in the room was suddenly deafening.

– – –

REOMEN

The heavy oak door of Kenji’s townhouse clicked shut behind me, sealing in the quiet strategizing and the scent of old wood and single-malt whiskey.

I’d just spent two hours mapping the final moves against the Rimestones, the pieces falling perfectly into place. A cold, clean satisfaction hummed in my veins.

It lasted three seconds.

A sound like a disturbed hornet’s nest erupted. A flood of bodies and blinding lights surged from the curb, spilling over the pristine pavement.

"Mr. Daki!"

"Reomen! Over here!" 𝑓𝘳𝘦𝑒𝑤𝑒𝘣𝘯ℴ𝘷𝘦𝓁.𝑐𝑜𝑚

"Can you comment on the espionage allegations?"

The words were a chaotic jumble, but a few sliced through the noise. Espionage. Allegations. Leaked data.

My feet planted on the top step. The cold satisfaction in my veins flash-froze into something else. I knew nothing. I was completely, utterly in the dark. A dangerous place for a man like me to be.

A microphone was thrust toward my face. A woman with a severe blonde bob led the charge. "Mr. Daki, were you aware that confidential data from the Luminex deal was leaked to their competitors? How does Daki Tech respond to accusations of corporate espionage?"

I didn’t blink. The shock was a physical blow, but I let it fuel the ice, not the fire. My face settled into its most impassive mask.m

"I have no comment on unverified rumors," I said, my voice cutting through the din, low and flat. I began moving down the steps, my gaze fixed on the black town car idling at the curb. My driver was already moving to open the door.

"But the deal is collapsing!" another reporter shouted, keeping pace. "Sources say the leak came from within your company! Do you have a traitor in your ranks?"

A traitor. The word landed, a poison-tipped dart. My mind was a whirring machine, cross-referencing every person with access. Every signature. Every motive.

"My company operates with the highest level of integrity and security," I stated, not breaking stride. The car door was now open, a promised sanctuary. "Any suggestion otherwise is libelous speculation."

The blonde reporter was relentless, practically jogging to keep up. "Is this connected to your recent partnership with the Rimestone family? Is this a case of corporate sabotage?"

That one almost made me stop. The sheer, stupid irony of it. They were looking in the completely wrong direction.

They saw a business rivalry. They didn’t see the carefully orchestrated funeral I was planning for an entire bloodline.

I reached the car. I turned at the door, giving the mob one last, sweeping look. My eyes were chips of black ice.

"You will have a formal statement from my legal team," I said, my tone final, absolute. "Until then, get the hell out of my way."

I slid into the back seat. The door thudded shut, muting their shouted questions into a distant, irritating buzz. The car pulled away.

Silence.

I pulled out my phone. The screen was a graveyard of missed calls. Dozens of them. From my COO, my head of security, my lawyers.

And Paige.

She’d called. Twice.

The ice in my veins cracked. Just a hairline fracture, but it was enough. She knew.

She was sitting in my penthouse, seeing her hard work, her vindication, turn to ash in the public square. And I hadn’t been there to answer.

I stared at her name on my screen as the New York streets blurred past.

The game had just changed. And someone had been stupid enough to make it personal.

– – –

PAIGE

The silence in the penthouse was starting to scream. My own breathing was too loud. The frantic buzz of my phone had stopped, but the echo of it was still ringing in my ears.

He didn’t pick up.

I stood up, my legs unsteady, and paced over to the massive television embedded in the wall. My finger hovered over the power button on the remote. It felt heavy, like a trigger.

I pressed it.

The screen glowed to life, too bright. It was tuned to a 24-hour financial news network. I didn’t even have to change the channel.

There it was.

A sleek, digital ticker tape scrolled relentlessly along the bottom of the screen. DAKI TECH (DAKI). And next to it, a number in a violent, glaring red. Down 12%. Then 13%. A living, bleeding number.

The background image was the stark, glass facade of the Daki Tech tower. It looked less like a monument to power now and more like a target.

The news anchor, a man with a perfectly calm face, was speaking with faux solemnity.

"...a stunning development for the tech wunderkind, Reomen Daki. Allegations of corporate espionage have rocked investor confidence, leading to a massive sell-off in early trading. The collapse of the Luminex merger, a deal widely seen as a cornerstone of their future growth, has..."

I muted it. I couldn’t listen to his voice, so placid while he dissected the collapse. My collapse.

My eyes were glued to the ticker. 14% down.

It was one thing to read the headlines on a phone screen. It was another to see it. To watch the value of the empire he’d built from nothing, the fortress I had just begun to feel safe inside, being dismantled in real-time, digit by digit.

It was like watching a building fall in slow motion. There was a horrible, silent majesty to it.

I sank onto the arm of the sofa, the remote slipping from my numb fingers onto the cushion. The cold, analytical part of my brain, the part trained at Tokyo University, was already running the numbers, calculating the billions in market capitalization evaporating into thin air.

But the rest of me just felt hollow. And furious.

This wasn’t a market correction. This wasn’t bad luck. This was an attack. A precise, malicious, perfectly timed surgical strike.

And the weapon they’d used was my work. The deal I had secured.

My hands curled into fists in my lap. The dull throb in my cheek was a distant memory, replaced by a new, sharper pain—the sting of being used as the blunt instrument to hurt him.

I stared at the silent, bleeding numbers on the screen.

"Those bastards," I whispered to the empty, opulent room.

The lock on the penthouse door disengaged with a sharp, electronic click. I flinched, my head snapping up from the horrifying red numbers on the screen.

Reomen strode in, his phone pressed to his ear, his expression a thundercloud.

"I don’t care what it takes, Michael," he bit out, his voice a low, furious growl that filled the silent space. "You freeze all outgoing communications. You lock down the server archives. No one, and I mean no one, accesses anything without my direct sign-off. Do you understand?"

He didn’t even seem to see me at first, his focus entirely on the crisis. But his path was direct, unwavering. He walked straight toward me where I sat frozen on the arm of the sofa.

He stopped directly in front of me, turning his back to me, effectively shielding me from the rest of the empty room as if the reporters were still there. A human wall between me and the chaos.

His voice continued, hard and absolute. "The ’how’ is your problem. I want answers, not excuses. I’ll be there in twenty minutes."

As he delivered this cold, ruthless order, his free hand came up. His fingers, which had just been clenched in a fist at his side, found my injured cheek.

His touch was feather-light, his thumb stroking over the swollen, tender skin with an impossible gentleness. The contrast was dizzying. The fury in his voice, the tenderness on my skin.

I closed my eyes, leaning into his touch just a fraction. It was the only solid thing in a world that was tilting off its axis.

He ended the call with a sharp tap of his thumb. The sudden silence was heavy. He pocketed the phone and turned around to face me fully.

Both of his hands came up now, cupping my face, his thumbs carefully framing the bruise. His dark eyes scanned every detail—the fading numbness, the pain I couldn’t hide, the fear I knew was in my eyes.

"How are you?" he asked, his voice quiet now, stripped of the corporate fury, leaving only a raw intensity.

The simple, honest question broke something inside me. The pretense, the need to be strong, it just melted away. My chin trembled.

"I’m not fine," I whispered, the admission feeling like a failure and a relief all at once.

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against mine. His eyes closed for a brief second, as if my words were a physical pain to him.

"I know," he murmured, his breath warm on my lips. "But don’t worry about this. Don’t waste a single thought on it." He pulled back just enough to look at me, his gaze holding mine, absolute and certain. "It’s already handled."