64
Nina's
I felt Mark’s hand tighten around mine as his panic became more evident. His wide eyes bore into mine, pleading silently for me to stop whatever I was about to do. The tension between us was thick, almost tangible, but I refused to be deterred. I leaned closer, lowering my voice so only he could hear me.
“You don’t have to be afraid, Mark,” I whispered, flashing him a reassuring smile despite the storm brewing inside me. “I know exactly what I’m doing. Trust me, just follow my lead.”
Mark’s jaw tightened, his lips parting as if to argue, but no words came out. His fingers trembled slightly against mine, and the fear in his eyes made my heart clench. But I couldn’t let his worry stop me. Not now. Not when everything I’d worked for was on the line.
A loud, mocking laugh erupted from across the room, drawing everyone’s attention. Vivian sauntered forward, her confidence radiating off her like heat from a wildfire. Her lips curled into a smirk as she stopped just inches from me, her piercing gaze raking me up and down with disdain.
“Who do you think you are?” Vivian sneered, tilting her head slightly. “Do you even know who I am? I am Miss McDonald, the richest, most powerful heiress in New York. And you? You’re just a nobody, a poor freak clinging to your husband’s arm like a lifeline. How pathetic.”
Her words were sharp, meant to cut me down, but I refused to let them. I straightened my shoulders, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination. “Oh, Vivian,” I said with a calm smile, stepping closer until we were almost nose-to-nose. “Are you sure about that? Because I’m more than willing to bet you aren’t.”
Her smirk faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered, arching a brow. “Bet me?” she repeated, her voice dripping with condescension. “You’re serious? You? What could you possibly have to wager against someone like me?”
I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice just enough to make her lean forward in curiosity. “Everything,” I said simply, letting the word hang in the air between us.
Vivian scoffed, tossing her head back in exaggerated amusement. “And how exactly do you plan to do that? What could you possibly bring to the table, little Miss Nobody?”
A slow smile spread across my face as I took a deliberate step back, giving her space to soak in what I was about to say. “Because,” I began, letting each word drip with confidence, “I am Miriam McDonald. The real heiress. The owner of the five-star McDonald hotels—the biggest chain in New York. I’m also the woman who beat Xavier McKinney in the national culinary competition three years ago.”
Yes! I named my restaurant as Miriam's restaurant as of them to secure my identity but my real name is NINA.
A collective gasp rippled through the room. Whispers broke out among the guests, their eyes darting between Vivian and me like spectators at a tennis match. The disbelief was palpable, thickening the already tense atmosphere.
“Impossible!” one man muttered. “Miss Miriam disappeared three years ago. How could she be standing here now?”
“And even if she is,” another chimed in, “she’s just a cook. What does she know about the world we live in?”
Vivian’s face darkened, her carefully crafted mask of superiority slipping. “You’re lying,” she spat, her voice trembling with barely contained rage. “You can’t be her. Miss Miriam is a chef. A lowly cook. She belongs in the kitchen, not at the table with us.”
I chuckled softly, folding my arms as I tilted my head at her. “Oh, Vivian,” I said, my tone almost pitying. “You’re right about one thing—I do belong in the kitchen. But that’s exactly why I’m here. Because while you were busy playing dress-up, I was building an empire.”
Vivian’s jaw clenched, and her eyes narrowed dangerously. “You think you can win this with your little kitchen tricks? Don’t make me laugh. Do you even have enough to place a real bet?”
“I don’t need tricks,” I replied smoothly. “And as for the bet…” I trailed off, glancing over my shoulder just as another voice cut through the tense silence.
“And what if I join her?”
The crowd parted as Jasper, Mark’s brother, strode into the room with a confident swagger. Beside him stood Alexa, her hand resting on his arm, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Jasper?” Mark’s voice was laced with shock and disbelief. “What are you doing here?”
Jasper smirked, patting his brother on the shoulder. “Helping you out, of course,” he said, his tone light but edged with sarcasm. “Someone has to clean up your mess.”
Mark’s face darkened, and he shrugged off Jasper’s hand with a sharp glare. “I don’t need your help,” he snapped.
“Clearly, you do,” Jasper retorted, turning his attention to the room. “My offer? Twelve percent of my company shares.”
The room buzzed with astonishment, and even Vivian’s confident smirk faltered as she processed Jasper’s words.
“That’s a lot of money!” someone whispered.
“Enough to shake things up,” another added.
Vivian’s lips curled back into a sneer as she fixed her gaze on Jasper. “And who are you, exactly?” she demanded.
“Jasper Santiago,” he said smoothly. “Mark’s brother. And unlike some people here, I know the value of true talent.” He cast a meaningful glance at me, and I nodded in silent gratitude.
Vivian scoffed, rolling her eyes. “So, the brothers have decided to team up. How touching. But it won’t be enough.” She turned her gaze back to me, her eyes blazing with fury. “Let’s raise the stakes, shall we? My chips represent one hundred and thirty million dollars.”
Gasps echoed through the room, and all eyes turned to me. The pressure was immense, the weight of their stares pressing down on me like a physical force. But I refused to buckle. Instead, I stepped forward, meeting Vivian’s gaze head-on.
“My chips,” I said, my voice steady and unyielding, “represent three percent of the North Grill shares.”
The room fell into stunned silence. Even Vivian’s composure cracked, her mouth falling open as she stared at me in disbelief. The North Grill was legendary, its shares worth more than anyone in the room could imagine.
“Three percent?” someone whispered, their voice tinged with awe.
Vivian’s face contorted with rage, her fists clenching at her sides. “You’re bluffing,” she hissed.
I smiled, the confidence in my expression unwavering. “Am I?” I asked, letting the question linger in the air.
Mark’s hand tightened on my arm, and I turned to him, meeting his wide-eyed gaze. His lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. Instead, he simply stared at me, a mix of shock and pride flickering in his eyes.
This wasn’t just a game anymore. It was war. And I had no intention of losing.