My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 48

Fiona's POV

I woke up in a cold, empty room, my body still aching from the weight of yesterday. Samuel’s words echoed in my mind like a haunting melody I couldn’t shake.

*I hate you, Fiona*

*Every time I looked at you, I saw Jake Bruckner’s daughter. A manipulator, a schemer.*

*You should have seen how pathetic you looked, believing I’d change for you.*

The shock of it all hit me again, like a tidal wave crashing over my chest, tightening my throat. I was trapped in this mansion, bound to a man who’d manipulated me, played with my heart, and deceived me into signing away my life. He had everything now—my freedom, my rights, and, it seemed, even my dignity.

For a moment, despair threatened to crush me, but then I remembered the faint, soft voice I had heard last night, just before I fell into a restless sleep. It had felt like a whisper from God Himself, a comfort that felt so far from Samuel’s cruelty.

"I am with you."

I clung to those words like a lifeline. I needed them now more than ever. Rolling out of bed, I knelt on the cold, hard floor and closed my eyes. “God, I know you’re here, I believe you’re listening…please let this cup pass from me,” I whispered, my voice barely audible in the large, empty room. My hands clenched into fists on my lap, nails digging into my palms. “I don’t know what to do. I feel so lost, so powerless. Show me the way, Lord. Protect me from him. Give me strength.”

I sat there for a while longer, my heart pouring out all the fear and uncertainty that swirled inside me. When I finally stood, I felt a little lighter, as if I wasn’t completely alone. God was with me, even here, even now.

I needed to shower, to wash away the remnants of the night before. I was still in my wedding gown—the one I’d worn yesterday when I’d still believed there was hope, a future.

I couldn’t find my belongings anywhere

Rummaging through the wardrobe, I found an oversized shirt. It was simple, plain. It hung loosely on my frame, falling to my knees. It would have to do. I pulled it on and tied my hair back, trying to shake off the heaviness that clung to me like a second skin.

The mansion felt enormous, too big for one person to navigate alone, but I had to keep moving. I wandered downstairs, past grand hallways with cold marble floors and endless rooms that felt empty, like the house had never truly been lived in. After what felt like an eternity of wandering, I finally stumbled upon Samuel’s study.

The moment I stepped inside, I was met with the sight of shattered glass littering the floor. A bottle of whiskey lay discarded on the desk, its contents now dried in streaks against the wood. I didn’t need to guess what had happened here. Samuel had clearly lost control, his anger exploding the way it always did.

For a second, I wanted to turn and leave, to pretend I hadn’t seen the mess. But then, against all logic, I found myself kneeling down and trying to pick up the broken shards with my bare hands. Why was I doing this?

Even after everything, some part of me still wanted to clean up his mess, still cared enough to do this. That realization stung worse than the sharp edges of glass cutting into my fingers. I hissed in pain, watching the blood bead along my skin.

Without a broom, this was pointless. I’d hurt myself for nothing. Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I stood and started searching for a storage closet, anything that might hold a broom or dustpan. I wandered through the halls again, disoriented, when I noticed a shadow looming ahead of me. The figure was large, and for a moment, my heart raced in panic.