My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 21

Fiona’s POV:

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The sharp ringing of my phone jerked me awake. For a moment, I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. My heart sank as soon as I saw the caller ID flashing on the screen. *Dad*. I knew I couldn’t ignore it, even though part of me wanted to.

I've been on his bad side ever since, according to him, I refuse to let Samuel Fox go

“Hello,” I said, forcing my voice to sound more awake than I felt.

“Fiona,” came his sharp, familiar tone. “Are you planning to sleep the day away? It’s nearly noon. If you’re going to be useless, at least be punctual about it.”

I took a deep breath, bracing myself for the verbal blows that always seemed to follow. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I’ll be at the office soon.”

“Don’t bother with excuses,” he snapped, cutting me off. “I need you in my office. We have real work to do, and I’m not wasting time on your excuses. Get here, and don’t make me wait.”

The line went dead before I could respond. I sighed deeply, feeling that familiar knot of anxiety tightening in my chest. I stared up at the ceiling, letting his words sink in. No matter how hard I tried, I never seemed to measure up in his eyes. He knew exactly how to make me feel small and inadequate with just a few sentences.

I glanced at my phone again. It really was almost noon. *Great*. Yesterday’s events still weighed on me—Dad’s snide remarks at the event, Samuel’s distraction with Clara, and that ugly flicker of jealousy I couldn’t seem to shake. It had all left me feeling emotionally drained.

With a resigned sigh, I tossed my phone onto the bed and dragged myself to the bathroom. Staring into the mirror, I couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under my eyes. *How is it possible to sleep for hours and still look exhausted?* I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on my face, hoping it would jolt me awake. After brushing my teeth and going through the motions, I felt a little more like myself, but the heaviness of the day still clung to me.

When I finally made it to the office, the tension in the air was thick enough to cut. It didn’t take long for my father to find me, his eyes cold and cutting as he walked into the room.

“I told you to stay away from Samuel Fox,” he said, his voice sharp. “I don’t want you involved in his affairs.”

I squared my shoulders, refusing to back down. “You’ve never had a problem pushing other business partners on me. Why is Samuel any different? What’s really going on?”

Dad sneered at me like I’d said something absurd. “Because Samuel is different. He’s not some small-time entrepreneur like the others. He’s someone I actually need. And you,” he paused, giving me a dismissive once-over, “are a distraction he doesn’t need. Clara Khems is more his type. She understands his world. You don’t fit, Fiona.”

His words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I could feel tears prickling at the back of my eyes, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Not here. Not now. I clenched my jaw and forced myself to keep it together.

“I’m doing my job, Dad,” I said, my voice tight with the effort it took to stay calm. “I’ve always done what you asked.”

He smirked, clearly unimpressed. “Just stick to what you’re good at and leave the rest to people who know what they’re doing.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, leaving me alone with the sting of his words. For a few moments, I just sat there, stunned. Why did I keep letting him get to me like this? I wiped at the corners of my eyes, refusing to cry. *I’m stronger than this*. But it was moments like these that made me wish I had a father who loved me more than he loved himself.