The Heiress Gambit-Chapter 56- “Just five minutes please.”

PAIGE

The Plaza was a fortress of light and sound. A gauntlet of flashing cameras and shouted questions from the press pen, all hungry for a piece of the city’s elite.

A year ago, this walk would have filled me with a cold dread. I would have felt like an imposter, a ghost in my own life, terrified of saying the wrong thing, wearing the wrong thing, being the wrong thing.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the crush of voices was just noise. The blinding flashes were a spotlight I commanded. I walked the crimson carpet leading to the entrance, my head high, the razor-sharp slit in my McQueen gown parting with each step.

The red beneath my feet wasn’t just a color; it was a path I was carving, and the dress was my battle standard. A big, beautiful, ’fuck you’ to every single person who had ever looked down on me.

Inside, the air was thick with the smell of expensive perfume and ambition. The ballroom was a sea of diamonds and silk, of laughter that was a little too loud and smiles that didn’t reach the eyes. I moved through it like a shark, calm and purposeful.

I saw them, of course. The familiar, hated faces. My aunt, Mitsuko, her eyes widening in shock before she quickly turned away. A cousin, Kenji, who offered a stiff, uncomfortable nod. I gave them nothing but a cool, passing glance. They were part of the landscape now, not the focus.

Then I found her. Suzume Yokimura was a vision in pale blue silk, a traditional obi-style sash cinching her waist. She was holding court near a towering ice sculpture, but her eyes lit up with genuine surprise when she saw me.

"Paige!" she exclaimed, gliding over and taking my hands. "You look... absolutely breathtaking. I’m so glad you came."

"Thank you for inviting me, Suzume," I said, my smile polite, a perfect social mask. "It’s a beautiful event."

Her smile was warm, but her eyes, sharp and perceptive, quickly scanned the space around me. "It is, isn’t it? I was just telling Reomen how lovely everything turned out. Speaking of which," she leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "where is he? I haven’t seen him yet. I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip."

There it was. The question I knew was coming. I kept my expression neutral, a smooth, unreadable lake.

"I wouldn’t know," I said, my voice even. "We’re not... in contact anymore. That ship has sailed."

Suzume’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows shot up. "What? But... what happened? I thought you two were..." She trailed off, reading the finality in my eyes. A small, disappointed sigh escaped her. "Oh, Paige. I’m sorry to hear that."

I gave a slight, elegant shrug. "Don’t be. It was a transactional relationship. The transaction is complete." I could see the gears turning in her head, the immediate plan to find Reomen and demand an explanation. I didn’t bother to stop her. Let her. It changed nothing for me.

"Well," she said, regrouping with impressive social grace. "His loss. Truly. So, what are your plans now?"

This was my opening. I looked around the opulent room, then back at her, my gaze turning steely. "I’m dismantling my family’s company. Brick by gilded brick. I have a new plan. One that doesn’t involve being anyone’s pawn."

I gave her the barest outline. The creditor squeeze. The social sabotage. Not the fine details, but the broad, brutal strokes.

To her credit, Suzume didn’t flinch. A slow, calculating smile spread across her lips. It was the look of one predator recognizing another. "Is that so?" she murmured. "Well, the Yokimuras have had our own... disagreements with your father’s business practices over the years. We find them rather... archaic." She leaned in again. "If you need an introduction to the chairman of the Japanese Banking Commission, or a friendly word with the editors at The Times Style section... consider my resources at your disposal. It seems we share a common enemy."

A genuine spark of triumph ignited in my chest. This was better than I had hoped. An ally, not a pawn. A partner. "I would appreciate that very much, Suzume. Thank you."

"Of course," she said with a graceful nod. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go speak with the Singaporean delegates. Mingle! Work your magic." She winked and melted back into the crowd.

I felt a new layer of confidence settle over me. I turned, ready to find my first target, and fell into a conversation with a silver-haired investor from a Swiss firm.

I was in the middle of explaining a nuanced point about emerging market volatility, my mind focused and sharp, when I felt it.

A shift in the atmosphere. A pull, like a sudden, silent gravity well opening up across the room.

My words faltered. I slowly turned my head.

And I caught his eyes.

Reomen.

He was standing near the entrance, having just arrived. He was frozen, one hand in the pocket of his tuxedo, his dark gaze locked directly on me. The noise of the gala faded into a distant hum.

There was no smirk, no calculation, no cold amusement. Just a raw, intense, and utterly stunned look on his face, as if he’d been punched in the gut.

He was just... staring.

And I, for the first time all night, found I couldn’t look away.

– – –

AUTHOR

The air crackled. His gaze was a physical weight, a brand on my skin. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, traitorous drum. Don’t look. Don’t acknowledge him.

I wrenched my eyes away from Reomen and fixed them back on the silver-haired investor, Mr. Adler. My smile felt brittle, a cracked piece of porcelain glued onto my face.

"...so you see, the volatility isn’t a weakness, but an opportunity for strategic repositioning," I continued, forcing my voice to remain steady, hoping he couldn’t hear the tremor underneath.

I focused on the intricate pattern of his tie, the faint scent of his cigar, anything to anchor myself in this conversation and away from the storm gathering across the room.

Mr. Adler nodded, about to respond, when a voice, low and laced with a familiar, razor-sharp sarcasm, cut between us.

"My apologies for the interruption."

I didn’t have to look to know he was standing right beside me. I could feel him, a shift in the atmosphere, a magnetic pull that threatened to unravel my entire composure.

Reomen’s eyes were on Mr. Adler, a cold, dismissive smile playing on his lips. "I couldn’t help but overhear your fascinating discussion on market fluctuations," he said, his tone implying the exact opposite. "But I’m afraid I need to borrow Ms. Isumi. It’s a rather urgent matter of... national security." He delivered the absurd line with such deadpan seriousness that it was the ultimate insult.

Mr. Adler, a man not used to being dismissed, flushed slightly. He looked from Reomen’s implacable face to my stiff posture. He was smart enough to recognize a territorial dispute when he saw one.

"Of course, Mr. Daki. Ms. Isumi, a pleasure," he said stiffly, giving a curt nod before melting away into the crowd, clearly offended.

The moment he was gone, the fake pleasantry vanished from Reomen’s face. He turned to me, and the raw intensity was back in his eyes.

"Paige—"

I didn’t let him finish. I didn’t want to hear his voice, that low, persuasive baritone that had whispered so many lies. Spinning on my heel, I started walking away, my stilettos clicking a sharp, frantic rhythm on the marble floor. I had no destination, just away.

I made it five steps before his hand closed around my upper arm.

It wasn’t the brutal, crushing grip of the man in the hallway. This was different. It was firm, but there was a plea in it. A desperation that made my breath catch.

"Please," he said, his voice stripped of all its earlier sarcasm, leaving only a rough, husky sound. "Just five minutes. Please, Paige."

I stopped, my back still to him. I could feel the heat of his hand through the silk of my dress. Every nerve ending was screaming. I didn’t want to create a scene. We were already drawing looks.

"I’m busy, Reomen," I said, my voice cold, aiming for the detached tone I used in boardrooms. I tried to pull my arm away, but his grip, though gentle, was unyielding.

"Busy doing what? Securing allies for your solo war?" he asked, and I could hear the frustration and something else, something like hurt, lacing his words. "You don’t have to do this alone."

"That’s where you’re wrong," I shot back, finally turning to face him. The sight of him up close was a fresh assault. He looked tired. The usual arrogant glint in his eyes was dimmed, replaced by a weary intensity. "I do have to do it alone. Because I can’t trust anyone. I learned that from you."

The words were meant to be a weapon, and they hit their mark. I saw the flinch, a tiny, almost imperceptible tightening around his eyes. But it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like I’d just driven a knife into my own chest. A confusing, sharp pain lanced through me. Why did hurting him have to hurt me, too?

His grip on my arm loosened, his fingers sliding down until they were barely touching me. "I know," he said, his voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear it over the orchestra. "I know what I did. And I am... so sorry."

The apology hung in the air between us, stark and real. But it was too late. The foundation was already ash.

"I can’t do this," I whispered, the fight draining out of me, replaced by a profound exhaustion. "I won’t talk to you. Not here. Not ever."

I looked down at his hand, then back up at his face. The hurt in his eyes was now unmistakable, a deep, silent wound I had just inflicted. It mirrored the ache in my own heart, and the sight of it was unbearable.

He saw the finality in my gaze. His hand fell away from my arm completely, the loss of contact feeling strangely like a loss of warmth.

"Paige..." he started, but I was already moving.

I turned and walked away, my steps slower this time, heavier. I didn’t look back. I couldn’t. I just focused on putting one foot in front of the other, moving through the glittering crowd, leaving him standing alone in my wake.

The space on my arm where his hand had been felt cold, a ghostly imprint of a touch I both craved and despised.