PAIGE
The car ride to Daki Tech was silent. The only sound was the soft hum of the car’s engine. I stared out the window, but I didn’t see the city. All I could feel was the deep, satisfying ache in my muscles.
It was a dangerous feeling. A reminder.
My legs felt shaky and weak as I finally stepped out of the car at the office building. The simple act of walking was a challenge. Every step sent a little jolt through , a private echo of the night before and the stupid, prideful challenge this morning.
I tried to hide it, straightening my spine and clutching my bag a little tighter.
He noticed. Of course he did.
Reon fell into step beside , his hands tucked casually into his pockets. He looked fresh and powerful, like he could run another ten miles without breaking a sweat.
He leaned in close, his voice a low, smug whisper ant only for .
"Having trouble walking straight, Black Cat?" he murmured. A slow, knowing smirk played on his lips. "Looks like you really did overdo it this morning. All that... effort."
Heat flooded my cheeks. He wasn’t just talking about the run. He was talking about everything. He was enjoying this, seeing physically marked by what had happened between us.
I kept my eyes fixed ahead on the glass doors, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. But my body was betraying with every slow, careful step I took.
He chuckled softly, the sound dripping with amusent. "Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it. Eventually."
Then he strode ahead, leaving to follow in his wake, moving with an infuriating, easy grace that my own body could no longer match.
I was left with the humiliating proof of my surrender, and his triumphant smile burning in my mind.
The ache in my legs was a constant, humiliating reminder as I walked to my office. I moved carefully, each step a little too slow. I hoped no one noticed.
The workday was easy, a blur of simple tasks. It was a relief. My mind was too busy replaying the morning—his smirk, my weakness—to focus on anything complicated.
Then, my phone buzzed. A ssage from him.
Boardroom. Now.
My heart jumped. This was it. The plan was moving.
I stood up, my muscles protesting. I walked to the boardroom, trying to hide the slight unsteadiness in my steps. I pushed the door open.
The air was cold. Two n sat at the massive table. Reon, at the head, a king on his throne. And across from him, my father.
Shunsuke Ristone looked the sa as always: cold, perfectly dressed, his face like stone. His eyes flicked to when I entered. There was no warmth in them. No surprise. Just a quick, dismissive glance, like he was looking at a piece of furniture.
Reon didn’t smile. But his eyes did. They t mine for a second, and I saw the silent command. Play your part.
I didn’t sit by my father. I walked around the table and took the empty seat next to Reon. It felt like a declaration.
My father’s eyes followed , his expression tightening just a little.
"Father," I said. My voice was calm, polite. But I let a tiny, cold smile touch my lips. It wasn’t friendly. It was a warning. A reminder that I was now sitting with the enemy. His enemy.
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. He gave a single, slow nod. "Paige."
Reon watched the whole exchange, a look of quiet, smug satisfaction on his face. The mouse was taking the cheese. And we were watching him do it.
Reon leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxed power. He gestured toward with a lazy wave of his hand.
"Paige," he said, his voice smooth as glass. "Why don’t you enlighten your father on the financial upsides of this opportunity? You’ve crunched the numbers."
It was my cue. I opened the sleek portfolio in front of , my fingers steady despite the frantic beat of my heart. I looked across the table at my father, his face an impassive mask.
"Of course," I began, my voice cool and professional. I started laying out the proposal, painting a picture of staggering returns and minimal risk.
I used all the right terms, all the complex financial language I knew he respected. It was a beautiful, glittering trap, and I was building it right in front of him.
"The initial projections suggest a forty-two percent return within the first fiscal year," I said, pointing to a perfectly crafted graph. "The market volatility actually works in our favor here, creating a unique window for aggressive growth."
As I spoke, Reon would interject, just little comnts. He was the master fisherman, gently tugging on the line.
"Astonishing," he’d murmur, shaking his head in faux awe. "A truly unique find, Shunsuke. Your daughter has a sharp eye."
Then another ti, when I ntioned the need for a swift decision, he leaned forward, his tone conspiratorial. "That’s the key. Speed. The window for a move this bold is... fleeting. We’re lucky Paige identified it before our competitors did."
We were a perfect team. I laid out the irresistible bait, and Reon sprinkled it with just enough credibility and urgency to make it impossible to refuse.
I watched my father’s face. He tried to maintain his cold, detached expression, but I saw it. The slight gleam in his eyes when I ntioned the profit margins. The almost imperceptible nod when Reon praised the "opportunity." His arrogance was doing all the work for us. He believed he was too smart to be tricked, too powerful to fail. He saw my presentation not as a warning, but as a confirmation of his own genius for being involved.
He was falling for it. Completely. He was so busy looking at the glittering prize, he didn’t see the jaws of the trap widening beneath his feet.
And the entire ti, a tiny, fierce fla of smug joy burned inside . We were winning. And I was helping tear his empire down, brick by arrogant brick.
The final number landed. A staggering, impossible figure for projected profit. I let the silence hang in the boardroom for a mont, letting the fantasy sink into my father’s mind.
Shunsuke leaned back, a slow, satisfied smile touching his lips for the first ti. It was a cold thing, but it was there. He saw his victory, his expansion, his triumph.
"And how soon can we comnce?" he asked, his voice full of its usual arrogant authority.
Reon didn’t even blink. "The mont the paperwork is signed." He slid a single, weighty docunt across the polished table. "My lawyers sent it over last night after our initial discussion. I trust you’ve had ti to review it?"
A lie. A smooth, effortless lie. We’d sent it an hour ago, counting on his eagerness to blind him.
"Of course," Shunsuke said, as if he’d scrutinized every line. He pulled a pen from his inside pocket—a heavy, expensive fountain pen—and without another word, he signed his na with a sharp, decisive scratch.
The trap snapped shut.
He stood, buttoning his suit jacket. The eting was over. He had what he wanted. But as he turned to leave, his eyes landed on . Not the analyst, not the employee. His daughter, sitting firmly on the other side of the table, next to the man who had just tricked him.
His gaze held mine for a long, silent second. It wasn’t angry. It was... calculating. Questioning. His eyes flicked to Reon, then back to , and a faint, confused frown creased his brow. He was trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t understand. What is her place here? What is she to him?
But he was Shunsuke Ristone. He did not ask personal questions. He only assessed assets and liabilities. With one last, unreadable look, he turned and walked out, the door clicking softly behind him.
The second he was gone, the air in the room changed. Reon let out a low, soft chuckle. He didn’t look at . He just stared at the closed door, a predator watching his prey walk blindly off a cliff.
"He didn’t even read it," he said, his voice rich with smug victory. He finally turned his head, his dark eyes eting mine, gleaming with pure, unadulterated triumph.
"The old fool is already broke, and he just doesn’t know it yet
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