My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 33

**Chapter 33: Samuel's POV**

After dropping Fiona off, I found myself gripping the steering wheel a little harder than necessary. My knuckles turned white, and my jaw tightened with the memory of her in that bed, still shaken from yesterday’s near-death experience. I hadn’t fully processed the relief I felt when I saw her awake this morning. But there wasn’t time for emotions right now—not when there was work to be done.

I was heading to meet Mrs. Kincaid, the wife of Edwin Kincaid, a man who, on the surface, ran a legitimate shipping line. Beneath that veneer, though, his company moved more than just legal goods. Weapons. Drugs. Whatever Jake Bruckner needed. Mrs. Kincaid had called earlier, her voice dripping with charm, extending an invitation I could hardly decline. She played the role of the loving, devoted wife well, but I’d seen enough to know better.

I pulled into the upscale restaurant where we’d agreed to meet, my mind racing as I parked the car. The place was classy, too classy for the kind of conversation I knew we were about to have. But that’s how these people operated. Disguising filth with elegance.

I entered the restaurant, spotting her immediately. Mrs. Kincaid—Audrey, she insisted I call her—sat by the window, a vision of sophistication in her tailored dress, sipping on something undoubtedly expensive. She smiled when she saw me, her eyes bright and warm, like a friend welcoming me into her home. But I knew better than to trust appearances.

“Samuel,” she greeted me as I approached, standing up to offer a kiss on each cheek. “You look wonderful. I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Mrs. Kincaid,” I nodded, taking my seat across from her. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh, please. Call me Audrey. No need for formalities between us.” Her laugh was light, tinkling like a wind chime. Everything about her seemed designed to disarm people, to make them lower their guard. But I wasn’t most people. I smiled politely and sat back in my chair, ready for whatever game she was about to play.

For the first few minutes, the conversation was pleasant enough. We exchanged pleasantries, talked about the weather, the state of the economy—trivial things that had no real importance. But as we spoke, I watched her carefully. There was something in the way she moved, the way her eyes occasionally darted around the room, that told me this meeting wasn’t just a casual social call.

Eventually, her demeanor shifted. Her expression, once genuinely sweet, morphed into something sharper—more calculating. I could feel the change in the air before she even opened her mouth.

“So, Samuel,” Audrey began, swirling her glass of wine thoughtfully, “I wanted to talk to you about something. I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately. Word is you’re a man who knows how to get things done. Efficiently.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue.

“You see, there are... opportunities,” she said, her voice dropping slightly, “for someone like you in our business. Shipping... various things. High-value items, let’s say. Things that need to move across borders without attracting too much attention.”

And there it was. The invitation.

I leaned back in my chair, folding my arms as I looked at her. “Opportunities?” I repeated, playing dumb. “I thought your husband ran a legal shipping business.”

Audrey’s laugh was brittle, like glass about to shatter. “Oh, Edwin? Yes, he likes to think that. My sweet, naive husband still believes that shipping only legal goods is what made us this wealthy. Poor man. He doesn’t have the stomach for real business.”

I nodded slowly, letting her keep talking.

“The truth is,” she continued, leaning in as if to share a secret, “intelligent women like me often marry the dumbest men. It’s exhausting, really, having to clean up after them all the time. But that’s what we do, isn’t it? We fall in love, we settle down, and then we realize we married an idiot.”