My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 51

Fiona's pov

I stood there, frozen, my fingers grazing my lips as I stared at the door Samuel had just stormed through. My heart raced, confusion swirling in my mind. He kissed me... to show he was in control? The thought sat in my stomach like a rock, building and simmering until the confusion turned to anger. How dare he?

I clenched my fists, feeling the heat rise to my face. No. I couldn't let him do this to me. He didn't get to kiss me like that, make me feel something I didn't want to feel, and then just walk away as if nothing had happened. I bolted out of the bedroom, my bare feet slapping against the cold floor as I raced down the hallway.

I didn't care about his stupid warning about staying inside. He thought he could control me? He had another thing coming. I had almost made it to the front door, my hand outstretched to grab the handle, when strong arms wrapped around me, pulling me back.

"Let me go!" I yelled, struggling against the hold.

Bruno's voice was calm, steady, the complete opposite of the storm raging inside me. "Miss, calm down. The boss has already driven off."

I wrestled against him, feeling my anger bubble over. "Where's the beast? Where is he?"

"He'll be back soon," Bruno said quietly, his tone as firm as ever.

But I didn't care. I wanted to scream. I wanted to throw something. Samuel had kissed me to prove a point-he didn't even want me. He just wanted to show me who was in control, like I was some pawn in his game. I let out a frustrated cry, but Bruno, still holding me, remained unflinching.

"Rest, miss," he said in that same steady voice. "You'll feel better."

I wanted to argue, wanted to lash out at the nearest thing I could find, but the exhaustion from everything hit me like a wave. My body sagged, and I found myself too tired to fight anymore. Bruno gently released his hold, and without another word, I dragged myself back to my room. I collapsed on the bed, not even bothering to change out into a night wear. Within minutes, I fell into a deep, restless sleep.

---

The next morning, I woke up with a pounding headache. My first thought was Samuel-where was he? I slipped out of bed and went searching, but the house was eerily quiet. Eventually, I found Bruno again.

"He didn't come back last night, did he?" I asked, trying to hide the frustration in my voice.

"No, miss. The boss couldn't make it back," Bruno replied, his face as neutral as always.

I nodded stiffly and returned to my room, my head spinning. The hours stretched on, and I tried to keep busy, but everything felt pointless. I wandered through the mansion, picking at meaningless tasks just to fill the time. But no matter what I did, the boredom clawed at me, gnawing away until I couldn't stand it anymore.

Day after day, the same thing. Each morning, I asked if Samuel had returned, and each day, Bruno gave me the same answer: "Not yet." It was as if I were living in limbo, trapped in this house with no way out. I couldn't even go to church on Sunday-Samuel had made sure of that, keeping me isolated from everyone and everything I cared about. No phone, no internet, no friends. Nothing.

By the time Sunday rolled around, I was on the edge of losing it. The anger inside me burned hotter with each passing moment, fueled by the suffocating isolation. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to do something, anything, to feel like I was in control of my own life again. That's when the idea hit me. Samuel had told me not to wear his shirt. Well, to hell with his rules.

I went to my wardrobe and grabbed the shirt again, slipping it on. It covered most of my knees, and besides, it wasn't like I was naked. I smirked to myself, justifying it as an act of defiance. I needed this. I needed to feel like I had some power over my own choices.

I wandered the halls, restless. My hands itched to destroy something, to lash out at the only thing I could. I stormed through the main hall, my breath quickening as I picked up one of the heavy flower pots by the entrance of the mansion and hurled it across the stone walkway. It shattered, the crash echoing through the empty space. But it wasn't enough. I grabbed another, smashing it next to the first. Each broken piece felt like a release, a tiny piece of the anger dissolving with the destruction. I walked backward leaving a trail of broken pot heading straight for Samuel's study, my mind buzzing with fury.

I pushed open the door to his office, my eyes scanning the room. I didn't care about the mess I was making as I rifled through his things. Papers scattered, books fell to the floor, but I barely noticed. All I cared about was making a statement.

And then, with a surge of anger, I moved to his massive desk. It was heavy, but that didn't stop me. I dragged it across the room, using every bit of strength I had. The screech of wood against the floor filled the room, but I didn't stop until I had wedged the desk firmly behind the door. It blocked the entrance, just enough to catch anyone off guard. Let him deal with that when he came back. Let him see what happens when he tries to control me.

Satisfied, I left the office and headed back upstairs. I needed air. I grabbed my Bible from the nightstand and walked out to the balcony on the top floor. The warm sun kissed my skin as the breeze played through my hair. For a moment, I felt a sense of peace, a fleeting break from the chaos inside me. I sank down onto one of the lounge chairs, flipping the Bible open at random.

My eyes landed on a verse, and I stiffened. Wives, submit yourselves unto your own husbands, as unto the Lord.I snapped the Bible shut, not in the mood for that right now. Not when submission was the last thing on my mind.

I flipped to another page and started reading again, but the wind blew, rustling the pages, and the Bible opened to the same verse. My fingers twitched, my heart pounding faster, but I flipped it away again, refusing to dwell on it.

Then, for the third time, the wind came. The pages fluttered, and once more, the Bible fell open to that same passage. My breath caught in my throat. Was this a joke? Was God seriously trying to tell me something right now, of all times?

With a sigh, I gave in, reading the verse again, my eyes moving slowly over the words. Tears pricked at my eyes, and I felt a familiar sting of conviction. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't be submissive to a man like Samuel, not when he was trying to control me like this.

"God," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I can't. I can't submit to him. He doesn't love me. He doesn't cherish me the way you ask him to. How am I supposed to obey him?"

The wind blew again, softly this time, as if it carried a voice. You're not obeying him. You're obeying me.

I sat there, frozen. My heart pounded in my chest as I argued with the voice in my mind. "If I submit to him, he'll just walk all over me. He'll treat me like I'm nothing!"

*The disobedient cannot expect blessings,* the voice said, as clear as day.

Tears flowed freely now as I buried my face in my hands. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to give in, to let Samuel think he had won. But deep down, I knew the truth. I wasn't doing this for Samuel-I was doing it for God.

With more tears, I finally whispered, "Okay. I'll do it. But please... please don't let him destroy me."

For the next few moments, I sat there, letting the tears fall as I whispered a quiet prayer, my heart heavy with surrender. When the tears finally stopped, I stood up and walked back to my room, my mind clearer than it had been in days.

The first thing I did was change out of Samuel's shirt and into something more appropriate. I didn't need to flaunt my defiance anymore. I was ready to obey, as hard as it was.

With a new sense of determination, I headed downstairs to clean up Samuel's office. But as soon as I stepped out of my room, I heard his voice echo through the house, full of rage.

"What the fuck happened to my office?!"

My heart dropped into my stomach. I whispered a quick prayer for strength and courage. "God, please help me."

I took a deep breath and forced my feet to move. It was time to face him, no matter what happened next.