The Heiress Gambit-Chapter 82- Details

AUTHOR

The quiet comfort of the penthouse felt like a distant memory as Paige and Reomen walked into the living room. The confrontation they had braced for was nothing compared to the sight that greeted them.

Denki stood in the center of the room, looking like a ghost who had clawed his way out of a grave. His face was pale and drawn, his eyes hollow. But it was his clothes that stole the air from the room.

His once-pristine white shirt was a horror show of rust-brown and crimson stains. The blood had dried in ugly, sprawling patches, telling a silent story of violence and panic.

Paige’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror. "Is that... is that blood?" The question was a choked whisper, her mind refusing to accept what her eyes were seeing.

Reomen’s protective instincts snapped into place. He moved a half-step in front of Paige, his own body tensing. His mind, always calculating angles and threats, was racing. Had Denki finally snapped? Had he come here for some kind of twisted revenge? His voice was low and dangerous. "What happened, Denki? What have you done?"

Denki shook his head, a slow, weary motion. He looked down at his stained shirt as if seeing it for the first time. "It’s not mine," he said, his voice flat and empty.

Reomen’s eyes narrowed. "Did you kill someone?" The question was blunt, a direct assessment of the most logical threat.

Again, Denki shook his head. He took a shaky breath, as if steeling himself to say the words aloud. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. "It’s Payton’s blood."

The name landed in the quiet room with the force of a physical blow.

Paige froze. Every muscle in her body locked. For a full ten seconds, she didn’t even seem to breathe. Her mind, so sharp and analytical, short-circuited. Payton’s blood? The words made no sense. Her vain, petty sister. Blood. The two concepts couldn’t connect.

Then, the questions erupted from her in a frantic, panicked rush. "Payton’s blood? How? Why do you have Payton’s blood all over you? Why was she bleeding?!" Her voice rose with each question, tinged with a hysteria she couldn’t control.

The old rivalries and resentments were incinerated in a single moment of pure, primal alarm. This was her sister.

Reomen saw her unraveling. He reached out, his hand firm on her arm. "Paige, breathe. Calm down." His command was sharp, meant to anchor her, but his own mind was reeling. Payton?

Denki looked directly at Paige, his gaze filled with a tortured exhaustion. "Shunsuke shot her," he said, the words simple and devastating. He corrected himself, the memory clearly torturing him. "He meant to shoot me. But she... she jumped in front of me. She took the bullet."

Paige stared at him, her face a mask of utter shock. The world tilted on its axis. Her father? Their father had pulled the trigger? And Payton... the sister who had always been so selfish, had taken a bullet for Denki? None of it computed. It was a nightmare.

From beside her, Reomen let out a low, guttural sound. The pieces clicked into a horrifying picture. The man’s desperation had finally curdled into outright madness.

"That damn bastard," Reomen snarled, the words dripping with a cold, furious contempt. The corporate war had just become a blood feud.

Paige’s legs could no longer hold her. She sank onto the plush sofa, the world tilting around her. Reomen was immediately beside her, his presence a solid wall against the storm of horror. His face was a mask of cold control, but his eyes were sharp, taking in every detail of Denki’s broken state.

He gestured to the armchair opposite them. "Sit," he commanded, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Denki seemed to crumple into the chair, the weight of the last few hours finally crushing him. He looked at his blood-stained hands as if they belonged to a stranger.

"Paige," he began, his voice hollow. "You asked for the full story." He took a ragged breath. "He just... snapped. Everything was falling apart. The stocks, the lenders... because of him." He didn’t look at Reomen, but the blame was clear. "He was screaming, throwing things. Then he got the gun from his desk."

Paige listened, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. She could picture it perfectly—the polished study, the scent of fear and expensive whisky.

"He pointed it at me," Denki continued, his gaze distant, locked on the memory. "He said he’d start with me. The ’useless adopted rat.’ He said he’d clean house, starting with me, and then he’d deal with... with Reomen." He swallowed hard. "He said I failed my one task. That I was a disappointment."

He then described Payton’s desperate intervention. How she had stepped in front of him, pleading with her father. "She was crying, begging him to stop. But he saw it. He saw the way she was protecting me. Barbara saw it too. They pieced it together right there. Our... affair."

The word hung in the air, ugly and real. Paige felt a strange, detached sense of understanding. It explained so much—the secret alliances, the shared glances.

"Shunsuke forced the gun on Payton," Denki whispered, the horror of the moment fresh in his eyes. "He told me to admit it, or he’d shoot her. Right there. He was going to shoot his own daughter to get a confession from me." Denki’s voice broke. "So I did. I told him it was all me. That I seduced her. That it was my fault. I thought... I thought he would just kill me and be done with it."

He looked up, his eyes meeting Paige’s, filled with a torment she had never seen in him before. "But he just shifted the gun back to me. He called me an ’overachieving piece of shit.’ And he... he pulled the trigger."

Denki’s body shuddered with the memory. "But Payton... she moved. Faster than I thought she could. She just... stepped back into the line of fire. She took the bullet meant for me."

He fell silent, the image of Payton falling seared into his mind. "After... after she fell, he broke. The gun dropped. He was staggering, muttering. He said it wasn’t his fault. He said it was my fault, and then... he said it was Reomen’s fault. That if Reomen hadn’t ruined him, he never would have picked up the gun. He was trying to convince himself he wasn’t a monster."

The room was utterly silent, the story settling over them like a shroud.

Paige let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. The pieces of her family were not just broken; they were shattered, ground into dust by her father’s hands. "Fucking hell," she breathed, the words heavy with a grief she hadn’t expected to feel for her sister. 𝘧𝑟𝑒𝑒𝘸𝘦𝘣𝑛𝑜𝘷𝑒𝓁.𝘤𝘰𝓂

From beside her, Reomen’s voice was cold and absolute, a final judgment on the man who had become his nemesis.

"He’s finally lost it."

The silence in the penthouse was heavy and thick, like a blanket smothering the air. Denki’s story hung between them, a dark cloud of violence and madness. The image of Shunsuke Rimestone, the mighty tycoon, reduced to a gun-wielding madman in his own study was almost too grotesque to believe. Yet the proof was dried and stiff on Denki’s shirt.

Paige, her body numb with shock, finally found her voice. It was small and thin, stripped of all its usual sharpness. "You... you took her to a hospital?" The question was a desperate grab for a lifeline, for a sign that this nightmare had some order, some hope.

Denki nodded, the movement slow and weary. "Yes. Immediately. Barbara and I... we got her in the car. There was so much blood..." His voice trailed off as the memory threatened to pull him under again. He took a shaky breath, forcing himself to stay in the present. "She had surgery. They had to take the bullet out. The doctors said... they said the damage was clean. She lost a lot of blood, but... she’s going to be fine. She’s stable."

A shaky breath of relief escaped Paige’s lips. Alive. She’s alive. The thought was a tiny, warm ember in the cold pit of her stomach. The news didn’t erase the horror, but it made it something they could possibly survive.

From beside her, Reomen’s voice cut through the emotional fog, practical and sharp as a scalpel. His mind was already moving past the initial shock, mapping the new landscape of this crisis. "Is she awake?" he asked Denki. He needed data. An awake person could talk, could plot, could be a threat. An unconscious one was just a variable.

Denki’s eyes, hollow and tired, met Reomen’s. "Yes. She woke up a little while ago." He then looked directly at Paige, his gaze pleading. "And the first thing she did... the only thing she’s been saying... is your name." He let the weight of that statement settle in the room. "She just keeps saying ’Paige.’ Over and over. She’s... she’s insisting she has to see you. She won’t calm down. Barbara sent me. She sent me to ask you... to beg you... to come."

She’s asking for me.

The thought was a seismic shift in Paige’s world. All her life, it had been a competition. Payton, the golden child, constantly trying to outdo her, to diminish her, to prove she was better. Paige had been the disappointment, the outcast, the rival. And now, lying in a hospital bed after being shot by their own father, Payton’s only anchor, her only comfort, was the sister she had spent a lifetime trying to crush.

It made no sense. It contradicted every rule of their relationship. And yet, in its utter illogic, it felt more true than anything that had ever passed between them. The petty battles for their father’s affection, the jealousies over clothes and parties—it all seemed like a childish game now, washed away by the stark, red truth of blood.

Reomen turned his head slowly, his dark eyes searching Paige’s face. His expression was unreadable to anyone else, but she saw the concern there, a deep, protective wariness. He wasn’t just thinking about Payton. He was thinking about her. About the stress, the emotional turmoil, the potential trap. He was calculating the risk to his fiancée and their unborn child.

Paige saw the question in his eyes. Are you sure you can handle this? She took a deep, steadying breath, placing a hand on her stomach almost instinctively. The tiny life within her felt like a shield and a responsibility.

"I’ll go," she said, her voice firmer now. She looked at Reomen, her own gaze clear and resolved. "I have to. Don’t worry."

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk touched Reomen’s lips. It wasn’t one of amusement, but of grim acceptance. "Worrying is what I do," he stated, his tone leaving no room for argument. "And you are my priority. Both of you." His gaze dropped to her stomach for a meaningful second before returning to her eyes. "I’m not letting you walk into the lion’s den alone. Not with our heir."

His words were possessive, practical, and fiercely protective all at once. He wasn’t asking. He was informing her of the new operational parameters. She was not going into a room with the remnants of her broken, dangerous family without him there as a shield and a strategist.

Paige nodded. There was no point in arguing. In a strange way, his insistence was a comfort. She didn’t have to face this alone. "Okay."

She then turned her attention back to Denki, who was watching this silent exchange with a desperate hope. "Which hospital?" she asked.

"NewYork-Presbyterian/Weill Cornell," he answered immediately, the name of the prestigious hospital sounding both clinical and surreal in the context of their drama. "Upper East Side."

Reomen gave a sharp, single nod. "Go," he told Denki, his voice a clear dismissal. "We’ll be right behind you."

Denki seemed to understand. He didn’t argue. He had delivered his message; he had accomplished his mission. With a last, lingering look of gratitude mixed with shame, he turned and left the penthouse, the door closing softly behind him, leaving them alone once more in the sudden quiet.

The silence felt different now. It was no longer shocked, but charged with purpose. The cozy intimacy of the afternoon was a distant memory, replaced by the grim reality of a family in crisis.

Paige stood up, her legs still feeling a little weak. She looked at Reomen, really looked at him. He was already pulling out his phone, his thumb flying across the screen, no doubt alerting his driver and security. He was in his element now—assessing threats, mobilizing resources, protecting what was his.

She walked over to him and placed a hand on his arm, stopping his frantic typing for a moment. He looked down at her, his expression softening just a fraction.

"It’s going to be okay," she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if she was reassuring him or herself.

He covered her hand with his own, his grip warm and sure. "It will be," he said, his voice low and certain. "Because I will be there to make sure of it. Now, let’s go. Your sister is waiting."

And with that, the two of them, a united front forged in fire and ambition, turned to leave their sanctuary and walk back into the wreckage of the past Paige had fought so hard to escape.

But this time, she wasn’t running from it. She was walking towards it, armed with the one thing she had never had before: someone to walk with her.