My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 4 (edited chapter)

❤️Fiona's POV❤️

"I can't believe this! This is absolutely ridiculous!" I shouted, frustration bubbling up inside me as I paced around my office.

The email from Mr. Fox's secretary had just come through, telling me that the meeting I'd spent all week preparing for had been canceled-no explanation, no new date. I could feel my pulse quicken, anger flashing hot behind my eyes.

I had been about to leave for his company, presentation in hand, confident and ready to deliver the pitch I had sacrificed sleep over. And now? Canceled-twenty-five minutes before it was due to start.

Fuming, I glanced at my phone, rereading the message.

**"Good day, Miss Bruckner. This email is to inform you that your scheduled 10 o'clock meeting with Mr. Fox has been canceled. Thanks for your understanding. Warm regards, Mrs. Palmer, Secretary."**

"Understanding?" I muttered. "They want my understanding?"

I didn't hesitate. I fired off a response.

**"Good morning, Dina. Can you please explain why the meeting was canceled on such short notice, and when will it be rescheduled?"**

Her reply came fast:

**"Miss Fiona, I honestly have no answers right now. But I'll attach my number. Call me in three minutes. I'll be on a break."**

Three minutes? It felt like an eternity as I watched the seconds crawl by. My fingers tapped nervously against my desk. I tried deep breathing, but all I could think about was the amount of work I had put into this project.

When the time was up, I dialed her number immediately. The phone rang four times, and in those four rings, I managed to bite the nail off my pinky finger-an awful habit I couldn't seem to shake whenever I got too anxious.

"Hello? Miss Fiona?" Dina's voice came through, hesitant.

"Yeah, it's me. So, what's going on? Why did Mr. Fox cancel?" I asked.

"Well," she started, and I could sense her unease. "I don't know the full story because I just started working for him last week. But... I overheard something."

"But what?" I pressed.

"I heard Mr. Fox talking on the phone with your father. They were discussing some party and meeting up there," she said, lowering her voice. "Right after that call, he came over and told me to cancel your meeting."

My heart sank. My father? I clenched my jaw, holding back the wave of irritation that threatened to overwhelm me.

"And you're telling me this because?" I asked, both grateful and suspicious.

"Because it's unfair. You don't deserve to be kept in the dark. And... you gave me those amazing shoes!" she said, her tone lightening.

I let out a short laugh. "Fair enough. Thanks for the heads-up, Dina. I'm on my way."

"Wait!" she exclaimed. "You shouldn't come now. Mr. Fox is in a foul mood, and it might make things worse. Trust me, today is not the day to see him."

"I'm not waiting around. He canceled on me with no warning, and I'm not going to let this slide," I snapped, hanging up before she could protest further.

---

I drove to Mr. Fox's building with a single thought on my mind-getting answers. I don't even remember how I parked the car. Eight minutes later, I was in the elevator, heading to his floor, my determination hardening with every second.

As soon as the doors slid open, I saw Dina rushing toward me, her expression a mix of panic and concern.

"Miss Fiona, please, you really shouldn't-"

"I'm going in," I said firmly, striding past her.

"You don't understand-"

"I'll make sure you're not implicated," I interrupted, my voice low but resolute. "Just stay out of this."

Dina let out a frustrated sigh, throwing her hands up in defeat. "Fine! But I'm heading to the first-floor bathroom, and I didn't see anything," she grumbled, stomping toward the elevator like a child who had been denied her favorite toy.

Her exit might have been amusing on any other day, but not today. Today, my focus was laser-sharp. I approached Mr. Fox's door, took a deep breath, and barged in without knocking.

He didn't even look up at first. "Dina, I told you not to-" His words cut off abruptly as he finally raised his head and saw me.

For a brief moment, I lost my train of thought. The man looked good-annoyingly good. His suit jacket and tie were discarded on the couch, his white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to reveal strong, veined forearms. He looked like he'd walked straight out of some rom-com cliché.

Snap out of it, Fiona!

I straightened, pushing aside my ridiculous distraction. This wasn't about how he looked. This was about the blatant disrespect he had shown me.

"Why did you cancel our meeting?" I demanded, standing with my hands firmly on my hips, feet planted in my signature power pose.

Mr. Fox let out a long sigh, clearly unimpressed with my entrance. He pushed his glasses up, glanced at his laptop, and then finally gave me his attention. "You don't need to hover like that. Take a seat."

"I'll stand," I shot back.

He gave a small shrug, stood up, and walked around his desk, casually leaning against the edge. "Suit yourself."

I crossed my arms. "So? Are you going to explain?"

He folded his arms too, mirroring my stance, though far more relaxed. "I canceled because I didn't want to have the meeting. Simple."

"That's not an answer!" I nearly shouted, my frustration boiling over. "Is it because you made some deal with my father behind my back? Do you think I'm not capable? Or is this just about me being a woman?"

His face hardened. "First of all, this has nothing to do with your gender. And second, I didn't make any deal with your father. He invited me to a party-end of story. I canceled the meeting because I don't want to work with you."

His words were a slap in the face. My mouth fell open, and all I could manage was a weak, "What?"

"You heard me," he said, standing up straight again. "I don't want to work with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, you can leave."

Anger surged through me like a tidal wave. "That's so unfair!" I shouted, my voice shaking.

Mr. Fox arched an eyebrow, looking at me like I was being childish. "If you have complaints, take them elsewhere. We're done here."

His condescending tone was the last straw. My throat tightened, and I felt the sting of tears at the back of my eyes. I refused to let him see me cry, but the frustration was overwhelming.

"Since you insist on calling me a 'little girl,' I might as well show you how one would act," I muttered under my breath.

Before I could stop myself, I sat down on the floor and grabbed onto his leg, wailing like a spoiled brat.

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