My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

chapter 55

Samuel's POV

After leaving the hospital, I swore to myself that I'd treat Fiona better. The image of her bleeding, the terror in her eyes when she looked at me-it haunts me. I never meant to hurt her. I never wanted things to go this far. But I did hurt her. I caused her head injury, and now I was drowning in a sea of guilt and self-hate. Every time I closed my eyes, I see her recoiling from me, her eyes wide with fear.

I needed space. I needed to think. So, I retreated to my beach house, isolating myself from the world. It was just me, the crashing waves, and my regret. I spent a week there, not speaking to anyone, not even my business associates. The only person I spoke to is Bruno, who gave me updates on Fiona's recovery. Every day, I asked him how she's doing. Every day, I hated myself a little more for putting her in this position.

I wanted to speak directly to Fiona, to apologize, but I knew she wouldn't want to hear from me. I don't deserve to hear her voice. The days passed slowly, each one blending into the next. I barely ate, barely slept. All I could think about was how much I'd messed up. The house felt too quiet, too empty. The isolation amplified my guilt, and for the first time, I realized I couldn't keep running from this. I needed to face it. I needed to be honest with Fiona about everything-about why I'd been the way I was, about my past, about her father.

One afternoon, Bruno called to tell me Fiona had been discharged. There was hesitation in his voice when he said he was not sure she would want to go back to the mansion. I pleaded with him, asking him to convince her to return. I know it's selfish, but I needed her to be there. I needed to see her, to apologize, to try to fix what I'd broken. Bruno agreed, though I can hear the doubt in his voice.

Hours later, Bruno tells me she was back at the mansion. Relief washed over me, but at the same time, fear sprang in my chest. I didn't know if she'd ever forgive me. I don't know if I even deserved her forgiveness. I took my time before heading back, not knowing what to expect, but I knew I couldn't avoid this any longer.

When I arrived at the mansion, the house felt heavy, filled with an unspoken tension. I walked up to the master bedroom quietly, my heart pounding in my chest. The door creaked slightly as I pushed it open, and there she was-Fiona. She was sleeping, her body curled up in the bed, her face was peaceful, but the plaster on her head is a stark reminder of my failure.

I stood there for a long time, just watching her. Guilt and sorrow twisted in my gut, mixed with a flicker of happiness just to see her there, alive. I hoped she wouldn't wake up, so that I could leave before she sees me. But then she stirred, her eyes fluttered open, and when her gaze lands on me, her entire expression changes.

Her peace shatters into raw, unfiltered fear.

"Fiona, please," I say, stepping back, my hands raised in surrender. But she was already scrambling out of the bed, her movements frantic and desperate. She trips over the blankets, falling to the floor with a thud, and I feel like I've been punched in the gut.

"Please," I begged again, my voice cracking. "I won't hurt you. I swear, I won't."

She doesn't say a word. Her eyes were wide, filled with error as she curls into herself, pressing against the wall as if she could sink through it. I try to step closer, to help her, but she only flinches harder, and I stopped

"I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. "I never meant to scare you. I never meant to hurt you. I... I'm leaving. I'll go."

I turned toward the door, the weight of my failure pressed down on me like an iron chain. Just as my hand touches the doorknob, her voice, soft and shaky, stops me.

"Wait... Samuel," she says, barely above a whisper.

I froze, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. "Yes?" I ask, my voice tight. I turned around slowly, afraid to look her in the eyes again.

"I... I just have one question," she says, her voice trembling.

I nodded, my throat dry. "Go ahead. I'll answer anything."

She doesn't move from her spot on the floor, but her gaze finally met mine, and I saw the hurt there, the confusion. "Why?" she asks, her voice broke. "Why do you hate me? I know my father is not a good man, but why do you hate him enough to hate me, too?"

The question hits me like a blow to the chest. I open my mouth, but no words came out at first. How could I explain this? How could I make her understand?

"I don't hate you," I finally managed to say, my voice hoarse. "I've never hated you. It's... it's just been so hard to separate you from him, and I took out my anger on you because of him. It was wrong. I know that now."

She frowns, still wary. "What did he do? Why do you hate him so much?"

I swallowed hard. "I... I need to show you something. I need you to understand."

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, and I could see the hesitation in her expression. "I don't trust you," she said, her voice shaking. "Not after everything."

"I know," I said, my voice pleading. "But please... I need to show you. I swear, I won't hurt you. I couldn't."

There's a long, heavy silence, and I can feel her considering it, weighing her options. Finally, she nods, though her body remains tense. "Okay," she says quietly. "But if you try anything..."

"I won't," I promise. "I swear."

She hesitates before standing, and I could see the effort it took for her to muster the courage to follow me. We walked in silence to the car, and the drive felt like it stretched on forever. The weight of what I'm about to reveal presses down on me.

When we arrived the beach house, I led her inside. It was quiet, just the sound of the waves crashing against the shore outside. I led her to the living room, where the photo album was sitting on the table. My hands shook as I opened it and pulled out the picture of my late wife and the sonogram of our baby.

"This was supposed to be our dream house," I said, my voice breaking. "Me and my wife... we were so happy. We were so young, and we didn't have everything but we had our dreams and we're both devoted to God even in our youth. And then your father..."

Fiona's face twists with confusion, then realization as I tell her the story. How Jake Bruckner had pursued my late wife, how he'd caused the crash that killed my wife and unborn child, and how his family's power had helped him escape justice.

For the first time in years, I feel the dam inside me break. I fall to my knees, the grief was too much to bear any longer. I sobbed, openly and without restraint, in front of Fiona.

"... God failed to protect us when we needed him the most. That's why I won't ever trust him again. I've relied on myself so far to get where I am in my revenge plan. Justice needs to be served before I can finally rest. I've done a lot of evil that I know I'll be punished for but I'm fully prepared to end it all after Jake Bruckner is punished. I honestly regret dragging you into all this mess" I ended in a broken voice

She stepped back, fear still shadowing her features. "You called me a slut," she said, her voice shaking. "You said you hated me."

"I was wrong," I whispered, tears streaming down my face. "I don't care about your past. I don't care about anything but... but making this right. I just need your forgiveness."

She stared at me for a long moment before finally saying, "I'll consider it."

I nod, standing slowly. "It's late. I'll take you back tomorrow. For now... just rest."

I led her to a guest room and left her there before retreating to my own room. Sitting on the bed, I held the picture of my wife and sonogram, the image of Fiona haunting my mind.

For the first time in years, I allow myself to break down completely, burying my face in the pillow to muffle my sobs.