My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 40

 Fiona's POV

The days blurred together after Samuel stormed out of my life. I didn't bother keeping track anymore. What was the point? Nothing seemed real after that fight. Our so-called relationship-if that's even what it was-felt like a cruel joke now. I kept replaying the scene in my head, wondering why I thought I could start something with someone like Samuel Fox. Secretive. Vicious. And I, like a fool, had been drawn into his world.

My chest ached at the memory of his harsh words. The way he looked at me, disgust painted on his face, like I was some sort of vile betrayer. My confession still rang in my ears, raw and unfiltered. I'd admitted to everything, let the guilt of my past roll off my tongue, but I hadn't explained it right. I hadn't told him that those mistakes, those sins, were before I gave my life to Christ. I hadn't told him that I wasn't that person anymore. That I was trying to be better. But it didn't matter now.

Nothing mattered now.

I couldn't bring myself to pray, couldn't find the words or the strength. The faith that had once sustained me felt distant, unreachable, like it was buried beneath the wreckage of my mistakes. Food had lost its appeal; everything tasted bland, and my appetite seemed to have vanished. Sleep was elusive, slipping through my fingers no matter how exhausted I was.

Days turned into a week of nothingness. I lay in bed, my thoughts spiraling, my emotions flaring from anger to sorrow to complete numbness. I didn't answer calls from work or Ethan, my friend, who had always checked in on me. I ignored the youth group at church, the ones who had looked to me for advice and leadership. Even Pastor Simeon's calls went unanswered.

I wasn't surprised when the following week, Pastor Simeon showed up at my door. The knock was soft but insistent, and I knew before I opened it that it was him. He always knew when to step in, when to push just a little harder.

I hesitated for a moment before pulling the door open. There he stood, a patient smile on his face, but his eyes were filled with concern.

"Fiona," he said gently. "May I come in?"

I didn't have the strength to resist him, so I stepped aside, letting him enter. He walked into the living room, glancing around before sitting down on the edge of the couch. I remained standing, unsure of what to do with myself.

"Talk to me," he said quietly. "I've been worried about you."

At first, I couldn't speak. My throat was tight, and the words felt stuck. But when I looked at him, saw the genuine care in his eyes, the dam broke. I poured out everything-Samuel, the fight, my past, the lies I had lived with, and the guilt that had consumed me. I told him how I felt lost, like I had nothing left. Like God had abandoned me.

Tears flowed freely, and for the first time since the fight, I didn't try to stop them. I cried harder than I thought possible, every sob wrenching something deep from within me. Pastor Simeon sat with me through it all, his presence steady and comforting. When the storm of emotions finally subsided, he prayed with me, asking God for healing and strength. His words washed over me, soothing the raw edges of my pain.

After he left, I felt lighter, but the weight of the world still pressed down on me. I couldn't bring myself to do much, though. My father was waiting for me at work, Clara was always lurking in the shadows, and Victor was likely still waiting to harm me. I wasn't ready to face any of them.

The days stretched on, and I spent most of my time at home, either praying or distracting myself with house chores. It was easier to stay in my bubble, away from the world, than to confront the mess my life had become.

Then the notifications started.

Blog after blog, flashing pictures of Samuel Fox and Clara on their extravagant outings. Clara on his arm, smiling for the cameras as if nothing else mattered. Samuel by her side, looking as composed and cold as ever. It was like a knife twisting in my chest, seeing them together, and I hated myself for caring. But I couldn't stop myself from looking, couldn't stop the jealousy from bubbling up every time I saw their pictures.

I tried to shut it out, but it was everywhere. The world loved to follow their every move, and I couldn't escape it.

A few days later, Ethan showed up at my door. He wasn't like Pastor Simeon-he wasn't here to offer quiet comfort. He was here to demand answers.

"Where have you been?" he asked the second I opened the door. He didn't wait for me to respond, pushing past me into the living room. "I've been calling for days, Fiona. If I hadn't been on a business trip, I would have come sooner."

I sighed, not in the mood to argue with him, but Ethan wasn't the type to back down. He dragged me out of the house, insisting that I needed coffee and fresh air.

We ended up at a small café, tucked into a corner booth. Ethan leaned forward, his eyes locked on mine, waiting for me to speak. I didn't know where to begin, but eventually, I told him everything. I told him about Samuel, about the fight, about how I had let my father use me, how I'd given in to my guilt and shame. I told him how I had pushed everyone away, how I couldn't pray anymore, how I felt like I had no future.

Ethan's face was a mixture of shock and sadness, but he didn't hesitate to comfort me. "Fiona," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Your father exploited you. He took advantage of your innocence. You didn't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of this."

His words felt like a balm on my soul, but they also brought a new wave of regret. Why hadn't I fought harder? Why had I let my father dictate my life, my body, my future?

Ethan didn't let me dwell on those thoughts for too long. He was always practical, always looking for a solution. "You need a change," he said after a moment. "Come work with me at my father's company. There's a department I think you'd be perfect for."

I shook my head, not wanting to burden him, but Ethan was insistent. "You need something to focus on. Something that's yours, not your father's. And I think this could be good for you."

After some convincing, I agreed. I had one more week to pull myself together before I would start working at his father's company. Maybe this was what I needed-a fresh start, away from the shadows of my past.

---

When I started the job, things felt different. I was still haunted by everything that had happened, but work gave me something to focus on. I threw myself into it, pouring all my energy into the tasks at hand. It kept me from thinking too much, kept me from feeling too much. But even though I felt better, there was still a part of me that struggled.

Eating had become a chore. I had lost my appetite after everything that happened, and now, even when I tried to eat, the food felt heavy in my stomach. I worked longer hours, using the excuse of deadlines and projects to avoid meals. Sleep didn't come easily, either. I was running on fumes, but I didn't care. The more I worked, the less I had to think about Samuel, about my father, about all the mistakes I had made.

It wasn't until one evening, on my way home from work, that the exhaustion caught up with me. A dizzy spell hit me hard, making the world tilt on its axis. I stumbled, barely managing to make it to my front door. My vision was blurry, my body weak from days of neglect. I fumbled with the key, finally getting the door open, but as soon as I stepped inside, I froze.

Samuel.

He was standing there, in my living room, his face unreadable.

I blinked, thinking I must be hallucinating. It had to be the fatigue. There was no way he was here. But before I could make sense of it, the world went dark, and I collapsed, falling into what I thought was my imagination of Samuel Fox.