My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 2 (edited version)

🖤Sam's POV🖤

The sun had barely risen when I walked out of the house, the salty sea breeze tugging at my hair as I slid into my Ferrari. The engine roared to life beneath me, the vibrations running up through the seat and into my core. But no amount of speed or power from this car could fill the void inside me. I gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white as I pulled out of the garage and sped towards the one place that could never offer solace, yet somehow I found myself there every day: my wife's grave.

I didn't go there for comfort or to feel close to her. No, I went because it feed the flame burning inside me, a fire that kept my need for revenge alive. Seeing her name etched into cold, unforgiving stone made the loss feel as fresh as it had been twenty-one years ago. Every visit brought the same surge of pain, but it also fueled my purpose.

After an hour of standing there, staring down at the earth that held what was left of my family, I turned and walked back to my car, feeling more resolute than ever. Today wasn't about grief. It was about revenge. It was time to step into a place I'd avoided for years-my own company's headquarters.

Most would call it a skyscraper, an architectural wonder towering above the city. But to me, it was just a tool-a facade for the wealth and power I'd amassed, all to bring that bastard to his knees. This was the first time I'd entered the building. I had always preferred to work in the shadows, keeping my hands clean while others executed my plans. Today, though, I had a very specific reason for walking through those doors. I had a meeting with him-the man who had taken everything from me.

As I parked in the underground lot and made my way to the private elevator, I felt the rage simmering beneath the surface, waiting to explode. I had to stay calm, had to control myself. If I didn't, I might very well kill him the moment I saw his face.

The elevator ride felt eternal. The polished metal walls reflected my hardened expression, every wrinkle of pain and bitterness etched deeply into my features. When the doors slid open on the top floor-my floor-I was greeted by a space so vast and meticulously designed that most would be in awe. Half of the floor was dedicated to office space, the other half to a private apartment, just in case I ever needed to stay overnight. But none of that mattered to me. It was all a front, a mask I wore while plotting the destruction of the man who ruined my life.

"Welcome, sir," a soft voice said as I stepped out of the elevator. My secretary, a brunette who looked like she knew her way around the chaos of corporate life, was walking briskly beside me, trying to keep up with my long strides. Her heels clicked against the marble floor, a sharp sound that grated on my already frayed nerves.

"Take them off," I muttered through clenched teeth.

"Excuse me, sir?" she asked, her face a mix of confusion and surprise as her arms instinctively folded across her body, misinterpreting my command.

"Your shoes. The heels. Take them off," I repeated, barely managing to hold back an irritated growl. The incessant sound of her heels clicking was driving me insane.

She looked relieved but still puzzled as she quickly slipped out of her shoes. "O-Okay..." she stammered, holding the heels awkwardly in her hands.

"Now throw them in that trash can over there," I ordered, pointing to the nearby bin. She hesitated for a moment but complied, tossing the shoes into the can with a mix of disbelief and resignation. When she turned back to me, her expression was still confused.

"Listen, Miss..." I paused, waiting for her to fill in the blank.

"It's Mrs. Palmer. Dina Palmer," she clarified, clearly trying to regain her composure.

"Dina, then. I suggest you learn quickly that I have certain pet peeves. You'll get familiar with them as we work together, but here's one you need to remember: I hate the sound of heels clacking on the floor. Don't wear them again. In fact, make sure no one in this building wears them around me. Understand?"

Her mouth fell open slightly in disbelief, but she nodded, her eyes wide. "Yes, sir."

"When is my meeting with Jake Bruckner?" The name left a sour taste in my mouth, bile rising in my throat as I fought to keep my voice steady. My hatred for that man was all-consuming, threatening to unravel the careful facade I had built over the years.

"In two hours, sir. But until then, you have three other scheduled meetings. Your first appointment is already waiting," she said, glancing down at her iPad, clearly eager to move past the bizarre encounter.

"Fine. Get back to work," I said, dismissing her with a wave of my hand. She hurried out of the office, the door closing softly behind her. As soon as she was gone from my sight, I heard her mutter to herself, "But those were my favorite heels..."

Two hours passed in a blur of mindless meetings. By the end of it, a dull headache throbbed behind my eyes. My patience was wearing thin. I wasn't here for these people. I was here for him. And, as usual, the arrogant piece of sh*t was late.

When Dina finally informed me that Jake had arrived, I braced myself. I could hear his obnoxious voice echoing down the hall long before he entered the office. My jaw clenched as I listened to him flirt with my secretary, his grating laughter cutting through the air like nails on a chalkboard.

He strolled into my office with all the arrogance I expected, wearing a smirk that made my blood boil. But it wasn't Jake who shocked me. It was the woman who followed him.

A beautiful blonde with a smile that could light up the room walked in behind him, her soft eyes meeting mine for the briefest moment. Something inside me stirred, something I hadn't felt in over two decades. My heart skipped a beat. Her presence was a stark contrast to the filth that was beside her

She wore the most modest outfit I had ever seen on a woman in my line of work, and yet I found myself inexplicably drawn to her. She didn't need revealing clothes to capture my attention. There was something about her that made my blood race, my mind whirl. And, strangely enough, she wore flats. That small, seemingly insignificant detail pushed her from attractive to downright appealing in my eyes.

What the hell was I thinking? This woman most likely Jake's partner, the man who had ripped my family from me. I couldn't afford to be distracted by her.

Jake plopped down in the chair opposite me without even waiting for an introduction. "Hello, Mr. Fox," he said, extending his hand. The sight of it made my skin crawl.

"Mr. Bruckner," I responded, gripping his hand far too tightly, fighting the overwhelming urge to crush it until I heard bones snap.

I turned to the young woman, and as I reached out to shake her hand, she hesitated before offering it. Her shy smile disarmed me for a moment, a softness in her eyes that caught me off guard.

"Hello, Miss..." I started, waiting for her to introduce herself, but Jake cut in before she could speak.

"She's Fiona. My daughter." He said it as if he was proud, as if his mere association with her somehow made him less of the scum he was.

I froze, trying to process the information. Fiona. The private investigators I hired had told me about her, but I hadn't cared to learn more. She wasn't part of my plan. Jake was. But now, as I looked at her, I regretted not preparing myself for this moment.

How could this b*stard have a daughter while my child hadn't even had a chance to live?

I quickly pulled my hand back, masking the action with a forced smile. "Nice to meet you both. Shall we begin the meeting?"

"Sure," Jake shrugged.

"Yes, let's," Fiona said with a smile that seemed genuine. But I knew better. The apple never falls far from the tree.

This was going to be the longest hour of my life.