The Heiress Gambit-Chapter 38- “What happened, Isumi?”

PAIGE

I just stared at Suzume, my brain trying to process her words like they were a foreign language. Melted him? The man was carved from ice and arrogance. He didn’t melt; he incinerated.

Suzume wasn’t finished. She leaned in, her voice a conspiratorial whisper that felt too big for this sunny, polite setting. "Look, I’ll be blunt. Reomen has had... conquests. Pretty little things who knew the score. A night, maybe two. A transaction. But he never looked at any of them. He never brought them here."

She gestured around us at the sprawling estate, the quiet, powerful money everywhere. "This is his inner circle. And you’re the first woman he’s ever walked into it with." She let that sink in, her eyes serious now. "So it’s one of two things. Either you’ve somehow gotten a hold of his actual, beating heart... or he’s always loved you. Even before all... this." She waved a hand, vaguely encompassing my fall from grace and recent rise.

My breath hitched. I froze completely, the world narrowing to the thumping of my own heart in my ears. Always loved you.

A memory, sharp and unwanted, flashed behind my eyes: me, standing in his bedroom doorway, him in nothing but a towel, steam curling around him. His voice, low and rough: "You know, I’ve always had a soft spot for you, Black Cat...even if you didn’t look for me all these years."

I’d shoved that comment away, buried it under a mountain of sarcasm and denial. It was just another one of his games, another way to get under my skin.

Now, Suzume was shining a light on it, and it felt blinding.

I couldn’t handle it. I reached up, pulled my glasses off, and pressed my fingers hard against the bridge of my nose.

The world went soft and blurry. A headache was brewing right behind my eyes. No. No, that’s not it. He hates my family. I’m a tool. A convenient, vengeful tool. That’s all.

I shook my head, a quick, sharp motion, like I could physically dislodge the dangerous thought.

Suzume watched me. She didn’t argue. She didn’t push. She just... noted it. I could see the understanding in her eyes. She saw the denial plastered all over my face, clear as day. She recognized a losing battle when she saw one.

She gracefully changed the subject, her tone shifting to something softer, more genuinely curious. "So," she said, her gaze gentle. "What happened, Isumi?"

The use of my first name, my real name, spoken without the coldness my family used, disarmed me.

She wasn’t asking about him anymore.

She was asking about me. About the scandal. The disinheritance. The fall from the Rimestone throne.

She looked genuinely interested, not like she was hunting for gossip, but like she was actually seeing me, Paige, for the first time.

I just stared at her. Suzume Yokimura. A girl from a rival family I’d known my whole life but never truly seen. And here she was, looking at me not with pity or judgment, but with a simple, startling question: What happened?

The wall I kept so high and so fortified around myself... it developed a crack. The words were there, suddenly, bubbling up from a place I kept locked tight.

I looked down at my hands, twisting the napkin into a tight rope.

"They tried to sell me," I said, my voice quiet but clear. I didn’t look at her. I looked at my hands, at the fraying linen. "Like a piece of prime real estate to consolidate their portfolio."

I finally chanced a glance up. Suzume’s face was still, listening. No shock. In our world, this wasn’t unheard of. It was the cold, brutal calculus of legacy.

"It was a stranger, practically," I continued, the memory making my skin crawl. "Some distant cousin from a branch of the family I’d never even met. A ’strategic merger’ to keep the bloodline and the assets ’pure.’" I couldn’t keep the sarcastic venom out of my voice. "I was twenty-two. I had just graduated top of my class from Todai. I had... plans. My own plans. Not just to be a decorative wife and breed heirs for the Rimestone dynasty."

I took a shaky breath, the memory as fresh and painful as if it were yesterday. "I said no."

The two words hung in the air, simple and final.

"My father..." I shook my head, a dry, humorless laugh escaping me. "He didn’t yell. He never yells. He just... recalculated. I was no longer a valuable asset. I was a liability. A glitch in his perfect system. He told me if I walked away from my ’duty,’ I walked away from everything. My inheritance. My trust fund. My name. Everything."

I looked out at the tennis court, but I wasn’t seeing the game. I was seeing my father’s cold, dismissive eyes. "He said I’d come crawling back. That I was too soft, too spoiled to make it on my own. That I’d never be anything without the Rimestone name propping me up."

The humiliation of it, the sheer, arrogant dismissal of my entire being, burned in my chest all over again.

"And my mother," I whispered, the hurt there somehow sharper and more personal. "She just stood there. She didn’t say a word in my defense. She just... watched. She looked at me with this... this cold disappointment, like I was a flawed product that had failed quality control. She was the one who helped pack my bags. She handed me my passport and said, ’I hope your freedom keeps you warm at night.’"

I swallowed hard, the old wound throbbing. "They didn’t just disown me, Suzume. They erased me. They froze my accounts, called every contact, blacklisted me from every company that owed them a favor. They wanted me to fail. They wanted to prove their point—that I was nothing without them."

I finally looked back at her, and the anger that had been simmering now boiled over, hot and clean.

"They looked at my mind, my degree, my entire life... and all they saw was a key to a better merger. They didn’t see a daughter. They saw a bargaining chip. And when I refused to be traded, they threw me in the trash."

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. The whole, ugly truth was out there, hanging between us in the sunny afternoon air.

"So that’s what happened," I said, my voice flat now, all the emotion spent. "I chose myself. And they decided to burn my world to the ground for it."

I met Suzume’s gaze, my own eyes probably blazing with a mix of old pain and fresh, cold fury.

"So now," I finished, the words a quiet vow. "I’m going to return the favor. I’m going to help burn theirs."

"And Reomen?" she asked, her tone careful, neutral. "How does he fit into the story of your great escape?"

A dry, humorless laugh escaped me. "He’s the... lender of last resort." The lie tasted like ash. "I owed him a debt. He offered me a job to work it off. That’s all." The words sounded hollow even to my own ears. That’s all. Just a boss. Just a debt. Just a man who melts when he looks at me.

Suzume’s smile was small and knowing. She didn’t call me on the obvious omission. Instead, she said, "Well, for what it’s worth, the clothes you escaped in look a hell of a lot better now." She gestured to my outfit, a silent acknowledgment of the silent, expensive armor Reomen had provided.

Before I could formulate a response—another denial, another deflection—a shadow fell over us.

The scent of clean sweat, expensive sunscreen, and him hit me a second before his voice did.

"Ladies."

I flinched, my head snapping up. Reomen stood there, a towel draped around his neck, his dark hair damp at the temples. He’d won his match. Of course he had. He looked effortlessly powerful, a king taking a break from conquering. His eyes, dark and unreadable behind his sunglasses, were fixed on me.

"I see you’ve found my financial consultant, Suzume," he said, his voice a smooth, casual drawl that did nothing to hide the sharp curiosity underneath. He pulled his sunglasses off, and his gaze flicked between us, assessing the scene. "I hope you weren’t subjecting her to too much shop talk. She’s supposed to be off the clock."

The possessiveness in his words was a live wire. My consultant. Off the clock. He wasn’t just making conversation; he was marking his territory, inserting himself into a moment that had nothing to do with him.

Suzume, to her credit, didn’t bat an eye. She just smiled up at him, utterly unruffled. "Just catching up, Reomen. It’s been years. Isumi was just telling me about her exciting new career in high finance. It sounds far more thrilling than tennis."

The lie was delivered so smoothly I almost believed it myself. Reomen’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. He knew we hadn’t been talking about bond yields.

He reached down, his fingers brushing against my shoulder as he picked up my half-finished glass of sparkling water. Without a word, he finished it in one long swallow, his eyes locked on mine the entire time.

The act was so intimate, so casually proprietary, that my breath caught. It was a silent message, for me and for Suzume: What’s hers is mine.

He set the empty glass down with a soft click. "The next set is about to start. I need my lucky charm," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. His hand, warm and slightly damp from his game, settled on my bare arm. "Come on, Black Cat. Time to earn your keep."

The command was wrapped in a joke, but it was a command nonetheless. The moment with Suzume was over. The reprieve was gone. I was being summoned back to my gilded leash.

I glanced at Suzume. Her expression was perfectly polite, but her eyes were laughing, screaming. I told you so.

With a silent sigh, I let Reomen pull me to my feet. The game, it seemed, was back on.

Reomen’s grip on my arm was firm, not painful, but utterly inescapable. He didn’t lead me back to the spectator chairs. Instead, he guided me around the perimeter of the courts, toward a quieter, more secluded area shaded by a grand oak tree.

A pristine bench overlooked the final court, currently empty.

"Sit," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. He released my arm and pulled out his phone, his thumbs flying over the screen. "I’m on in fifteen. Don’t wander off."

I sank onto the cool stone of the bench, my mind reeling. I could feel his eyes on me even as he texted, a heavy, assessing weight. It was the same way he looked at a complex financial report—like he was dissecting every variable, every hidden flaw. He knew. He absolutely knew we hadn’t been talking about finance.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and finally gave me his full attention, crossing his arms over his chest. The damp spot on his sweater from the towel was a dark blotch over his heart.

"I see you’re already fitting in," he remarked, his voice dripping with sarcastic amusement. "Making fast friends with your family’s oldest rivals. Quite the social butterfly, Black Cat. Should I be worried you’re negotiating a better deal elsewhere?"

The words were a perfect setup. A classic Reomen jab, designed to provoke a sharp retort. My usual arsenal of sarcastic comebacks was right there, loaded and ready. "Jealous, Tanuki?" or "Just networking. Unlike some people, I don’t need to buy my allies."

But the words died on my tongue. My mind was a thousand miles away, stuck on Suzume’s voice. He never brings a date. You’ve melted that man. Has he always loved you?

I just stared at him, my brow slightly furrowed, truly seeing him. The sharp, arrogant angle of his jaw. The intense, dark eyes that could flash with cold fury or spark with wicked amusement. The same mouth that could deliver the most cutting insults and then, hours later, whisper promises that turned my bones to liquid.

Who was he? Really? The vengeful boy from the gardens? The ruthless CEO? Or the man who kept a wardrobe for me and got jealous over a gay bartender?

My silence was more unnerving than any retort. His smirk faltered, just for a microsecond. He uncrossed his arms, taking a half-step closer. "Cat got your tongue? That’s a first."

He was studying me harder now, trying to decipher my unusual quiet. The air between us shifted from sparring to something more charged, more uncertain.

Then, the familiar, infuriating smirk was back, though it seemed a touch more forced. "Since you’re clearly too distracted for witty repartee," he said, gesturing for me to stand. "Come on. Let’s take a walk. There’s someone I want you to meet."

I rose on autopilot, my legs feeling unsteady. "Who?"

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pulled his phone out again, typed a quick, one-handed message—"On our way."—and slipped it back into his pocket. The action was so smooth, so efficient. Every part of his life was a calculated move.

He finally looked at me, that cryptic glint back in his eyes. "An old friend. A mentor, of sorts." He placed his hand on the small of my back, the heat of it searing through the silk of my blouse, and gently propelled me forward on a path leading away from the courts and toward a secluded wing of the sprawling estate. 𝘧𝘳𝘦ℯ𝓌𝘦𝒷𝘯𝑜𝑣𝘦𝓁.𝒸𝘰𝓂

"Consider it a lesson," he murmured, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "In learning who your real enemies are... and who simply shares them."