My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 35

Samuel's POV

The week passed like a slow, agonizing blur. The pain from the gunshot wound was relentless, and each time I moved, it felt like fire was eating through my side. I hadn’t told Fiona it was a gunshot—I didn’t want her to worry, or worse, ask too many questions. She called frequently, her concern clear in her voice, and each time I gave her the same vague reassurances that I was fine, that everything was under control. It wasn’t a lie exactly, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

I was touched by her persistence, though. Even through the haze of pain, her voice brought a kind of calm I hadn’t realized I needed. She checked on me more than I probably deserved, and when I wasn’t too overwhelmed by everything else, I’d return the favor—calling her to ask how she was doing. Of course, I didn’t really need to ask. I had men watching her, keeping her safe from the shadows. She’d had a normal week, no threats, no incidents. But I still called. I guess I just needed to hear her voice sometimes.

By the end of the week, the stitches had started to hold, but the pain was still there, lingering beneath the surface. That morning, I received a call from my private investigator. The name he gave me sent a wave of anger crashing through me.

“The man who chased Fiona—his name’s Victor Mendel. He’s in business with Jake Bruckner.”

I’d had my suspicions, but hearing it confirmed sent a rage coursing through my veins. Of course, Bruckner was behind this. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fist, the pain in my side now a dull afterthought to the fury burning through me.

“Get me more,” I said, my voice low and controlled. “I want to know everything about his relationship with Jake. Where they meet, what they trade. I want it all.”

“Understood,” the investigator replied before ending the call.

I stood there for a moment, the phone still in my hand, the anger boiling beneath my skin. Fiona’s father had been playing a dangerous game, and I was done pretending not to see it. He had sent someone after his own daughter—whether directly or through his connections, it didn’t matter. He was willing to put her in harm’s way to protect whatever twisted empire he’d built. And now, he’d crossed the line.

Without wasting another second, I dialed Lyle’s number. He answered on the second ring.

“Boss?”

“I want Victor Mendel dealt with,” I said, my voice colder than ice. “Send him a message. Physically. Hit him where it hurts—his business, his reputation. And make sure he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s being punished for what he did to Fiona.”

Lyle hesitated, just for a moment. “Boss, if we move too obviously, they might trace it back to us.”

I took a slow breath, my patience wearing thin. “I don’t care how you do it, just make sure it doesn’t lead back to me. But he needs to understand that someone more powerful than he is protecting her. Make him fear for his life, Lyle. Make him regret the day he ever looked in her direction.”

“Yes, sir,” Lyle replied, the tension in his voice clear. He knew I wasn’t playing games anymore.

A few days passed before Lyle called me back, the satisfaction in his voice unmistakable. “It’s done. Victor  Mendel’s business is in shambles, and he’s got a few broken bones to remind him of the consequences.”

I smiled, feeling a surge of grim satisfaction. “Good work.”

Lyle sent me a report, detailing Mendel’s downfall. It was exactly what I wanted. His company was teetering on the edge of collapse, and his name was being dragged through the mud. He wouldn’t be a problem again, not if he wanted to keep whatever was left of his miserable life.

I was still going over the details when my phone rang again. Clara. I considered letting it go to voicemail, but something told me that wouldn’t make her go away. I answered with a clipped, “What is it?”

“Sammy, darling,” she purred, her voice oozing that sickly sweet charm she always used when she wanted something. “Meet me at Jake’s company. We have a meeting to discuss, remember?”

I frowned. A meeting? I hadn’t agreed to any meeting. “I’m not available right now, Clara.”

“Oh, come on, Samuel,” she said, her tone becoming more insistent. “It’ll be quick. Just a little chat, a little business, and then we can... catch up.”

I could practically hear the smirk in her voice, and it irritated me more than I cared to admit. “I’m not interested in ‘catching up,’ Clara.”

She laughed, a soft, flirtatious sound. “Don’t be like that. See you, alright? I’m waiting.”

Before I could protest, she blew a kiss through the phone and hung up.

I let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the muscles in my neck tense. I didn’t have time for this, not with everything else going on. But Clara had a way of forcing her hand, especially when Jake was involved.

Reluctantly, I got dressed and made my way to Jake Bruckner’s company. As much as I didn’t want to be there, I needed to play along for now. There were bigger moves being made behind the scenes, and I couldn’t afford to tip my hand too soon.

On the way, my phone buzzed again. This time, it was my informant at Bruckner’s company. “Sir, I just saw something you’ll want to know.”

“What is it?” I asked, my grip tightening on the steering wheel.

I gripped the wheel tighter as the voice on the other end of the line confirmed what I had already feared.

“Sir, I just spotted Victor Mendel—he's here. The guy who chased Fiona the other day. He’s walking into Bruckner’s building, and he doesn’t look happy. Something’s off. I don’t think it’s good.”

My heart slammed against my chest. Victor Mendel? There? After the message I sent him, he should’ve been too afraid to show his face anywhere near Bruckner, let alone his building. But now he was walking right into the lion’s den, and I had a sinking feeling that he wasn’t there for a friendly chat.

“I’m on my way,” I barked, cutting the call.

I slammed my foot on the gas, the engine roaring as the car surged forward. The speedometer climbed rapidly, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing faster than the car, calculating every possibility. If Mendel was there for revenge, he could make a mess of things, especially if Bruckner didn’t know what was coming. But I couldn’t let anything happen—not to Fiona, not to the plan.

The city blurred past me as I weaved in and out of traffic, my mind locked on the thought of what Mendel might do. He was a desperate man now, and desperate men were dangerous.

I wasn’t sure what his angle was, but one thing was certain: I had to get there before things went sideways.

The tires screeched as I rounded the corner, my pulse matching the frantic pace of the car. I had to make it in time.

This wasn’t just about business anymore.

It was personal.

And if Victor Mendel was about to stir up trouble, I’d make sure it was the last thing he ever did.