My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 36

 Fiona's POV

The week had been quiet, almost too quiet. I was grateful for that—grateful to God for some semblance of peace in my life. Samuel had checked in periodically, his voice softer but somewhat distant. He still wasn't telling me everything, and though I tried not to push too hard, I could sense the weight he was carrying. His injury worried me more than I let on, but as the days passed, his voice grew stronger. That, at least, was a relief.

Friday morning came, and I stepped into my office feeling thankful. I whispered a quick prayer as I settled into my chair, hoping it would be another uneventful day. I desperately needed it to be. But deep down, something told me that calm wasn't going to last.

The moment the door opened, my heart sank. My father strolled in with Clara by his side, the both of them cutting into the peaceful air like sharp knives. The sight of them together made my skin crawl. Clara's presence was never a good sign, and combined with my father, it meant trouble. I held my head high, trying to steel myself, but a cold dread settled in my stomach.

They approached my desk with slow, purposeful steps, my father flashing his trademark smug smile. Clara's eyes were on me the whole time, calculating, almost mocking. I knew they were here to rattle me, to push me. That was their specialty.

"Fiona," my father said in that smooth, condescending tone he always used, "I trust you've been having a productive week?"

I nodded, keeping my voice steady. "It's been fine, thank you."

Clara's smile widened, and she stepped closer, her perfume overwhelming the air between us. "Samuel's been talking a lot about you," she said, her voice sweet but dripping with something sinister. "It's almost like he feels guilty."

I kept my face neutral, refusing to let her words sink in, but my mind was racing. I knew she was fishing for something, anything to throw me off balance.

"Guilty?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "About what?"

"Oh, I don't know," Clara shrugged, feigning innocence. "Maybe about leading you on?"

I clenched my fists under the desk, my pulse quickening. "Samuel doesn't lead people on," I replied firmly. "You should know that."

Clara exchanged a quick glance with my father, and they both chuckled softly, like they were sharing some private joke at my expense.

"Come on, Fiona," Clara said, her voice taking on a mocking lilt. "You didn't really think you were the only one, did you? I mean, just last week we—well, let's just say Samuel was very attentive. Especially that night."

I felt a rush of heat rise to my face, but I refused to show any cracks in my composure. Clara was lying—I knew it, but the way she said it, so confidently, so easily, made doubt creep in. Why was she doing this? Why now?

"You're lying," I said quietly, more to myself than to her. But Clara wasn't done.

"Am I? Why don't we call him and see?"

Before I could react, she had her phone out, her perfectly manicured fingers scrolling through her contacts. She pressed a button and raised the phone to her ear, her smile growing wider as the call connected. My stomach dropped.

"Sammy, darling," she cooed, her voice oozing fake sweetness. "We have that meeting today, remember? At Jake's office."

I couldn't hear his response, but Clara's smirk told me everything I needed to know. My heart pounded painfully in my chest.

"Oh, come on, Samuel," she purred, her voice dripping with seduction. "It'll be quick. Just a little business... and then we can catch up."

I felt my throat tighten. Was Samuel really agreeing to this? I'd heard her voice over the phone once before, when she'd called him during his business trip. Samuel had brushed it off, telling me she was nothing to him. I had believed him then... but now?

Before she hung up, Clara blew a kiss through the phone, her eyes locking onto mine. "See you soon," she whispered into the receiver before ending the call.

My heart was racing, my mind spiraling. Was Samuel really going to her? After everything he'd said? He had told me there was nothing between them, and that I was the only one but that phone call... It was like a dagger twisting in my chest. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but Clara knew she'd struck a nerve. Her and my father's smug smiles felt like knives cutting into me.

"Well," Clara said with a satisfied sigh, slipping her phone back into her bag. "It seems Samuel is quite... loyal. To me, at least."

I wanted to scream. To tell her to stop, to tell her she was lying. But the more I thought about it, the more my confidence wavered. Samuel had been vague before, evasive even. And now this? I bit my lip, forcing myself to stay silent. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break.

Just when I thought I could handle no more, the door to my office slammed open. Victor Mendel stumbled in, looking half-crazed, his face battered and bandaged. His eyes locked onto mine, fury blazing in them.

"You!" he roared, pointing a shaking finger at me. "You destroyed me!"

I stood frozen, my mind struggling to catch up. "What—what are you talking about?"

"You sent that big shot after me!" Roy's voice was wild, unhinged. "You think I don't know? His men came for me, made sure I got the message loud and clear!"

I was at a loss. "I didn't—"

Roy wasn't listening. His face twisted in rage as he staggered forward, throwing accusations at me. Every word felt like a blow. My father and Clara stood by, watching the spectacle with amusement, neither lifting a finger to stop him.

Then, without warning, Roy lunged toward me. I didn't have time to react. His hand was raised, and I braced myself for the hit.

But it never came.

Suddenly, Samuel was there, grabbing Roy's arm and yanking him back with a force I hadn't seen before. "Get away from her!" Samuel's voice was cold, furious. His presence filled the room, dominating everything.

"Samuel," I whispered, my voice trembling.

He didn't look at me. His focus was entirely on Roy, who was still hurling insults, calling me names that cut deep. I could see the fury in Samuel's eyes as he turned to my father. "You just stood there?" Samuel spat, his voice low and dangerous.

Jake shrugged, unimpressed. "It's her problem, not mine."

Clara tried to slink closer to Samuel, but he wasn't having it. "Stay out of this, Clara," he warned, his tone sharp.

Roy, still struggling against Samuel's grip, continued his rant. "She's nothing but a slut, a whore—"

"Shut your mouth," Samuel growled, his voice like thunder. "You don't know anything about her."

My heart ached as I watched them, unable to move. I wanted to disappear, to be anywhere but here. The room felt suffocating, the air thick with tension. Then, Roy's words cut through the haze like a blade.

"She's trash, Samuel! I know everything about her. I've been with her! In her, even! Multiple times"

Samuel's grip tightened on Roy's arm, his face a mask of disbelief. He looked at me then, his eyes searching mine for answers. "Fiona... is this true?"

I couldn't speak. The words were stuck in my throat, the shame burning through me. I didn't want to lie, but I couldn't bear to say the truth. Not like this.

Samuel's voice rose, harsher now. "Fiona, answer me. Is what he's saying true?"

I did the only thing I could. I grabbed my car keys from my desk, turned, and bolted out of the room.