My Enemy's Daughter (Edited)

Chapter 58

Fiona's POV

When Samuel told me he wanted to show me something, I never imagined it would be her. My heart clenched with a strange mix of anxiety and dread as we walked into the dimly lit room, a place that smelled of sterile air and faint cleaning products.

The sight of her was a shock. It took me a while to realize who I was staring at but, yes, that's my mother!The woman I hadn't seen in over ten years, the woman who vanished like a wisp of smoke from my life.

She sat on a worn chair, her posture frail, her once bright auburn hair now streaked with gray. The years had withered her into a shadow of herself-she looked like a ghost, a shell of the vibrant, bubbly woman I remembered from my childhood. My legs felt heavy as I stepped forward. My voice was a shaky whisper, "Mom?"

The woman looked up, startled by the sound, her eyes widening with confusion. "It's nice to hear someone call me that again," she said, her voice cracked and distant, as though she was speaking from some far-off place. "But I'm not your mother. My daughter... my daughter is just ten years old. She was taken away by a very bad man."

My heart dropped at her words, and I felt the sting of tears. She didn't recognize me. She didn't know that the girl she spoke of, the ten-year-old she longed for, was standing right in front of her, all grown up. She still believed I was that little girl.

I knelt beside her chair, my hands trembling as I reached for hers. "Mom... it's me. It's Fiona." The words choked in my throat. "I'm your daughter. I've missed you so much."

Her face softened for a brief moment, then confusion clouded her features again. She pulled her hands from mine, looking at me with sorrowful eyes. "No, no," she shook her head. "You're not her. You can't be. My daughter is still a child... she's alone, with that horrible man. I have to find her." She glanced toward the door, desperate. "Can you take me to her? Please, you have to help me."

My throat tightened. The urge to scream overwhelmed me, to shout at the universe for taking her from me, for stripping away everything I knew. But instead, I whispered, "Mom, it's really me. I'm grown up now. Eleven years have passed..."

Lyle's voice broke through the tension, gentle but firm. "It's true, Evelin. You've been away for a long time. We've told you before."

My mother blinked, her expression shifting as the words settled in. She looked back at me with a tentative glimmer of recognition. "Eleven years...?" Her voice quivered as she reached out to touch my face. "Oh my God... you're so beautiful. You've always been beautiful. My little girl..."

The dam inside me broke. I surged forward, wrapping my arms around her as tightly as I could. Her frail body shook in my embrace, and I sobbed into her shoulder, tears of relief and sorrow mixed together. She held me back, stroking my hair like she used to, whispering over and over again, "My sweet Fiona... my sweet, sweet girl..."

Time seemed to blur in that moment. It was as if everything else faded-the room, the men, even Samuel standing nearby. All that mattered was the warmth of her arms, the feeling of coming home after so many years of being lost.

After what felt like an eternity, I pulled back slightly and wiped the tears from my face. "Mom, there's someone I want you to meet." I turned toward Samuel, who had been standing quietly by the door. "This is Samuel... my husband."

Her eyes widened with surprise, and then, a soft smile formed on her lips. "You're married? Oh, my darling... I'm so happy for you." She reached out to take Samuel's hand, her fingers trembling. "You must take care of her."

Samuel nodded, his voice thick with emotion. "I will. I promise."

As the moment of peace settled, I knew there were questions. I had to understand how this happened. "Samuel, what... what happened to her?"

His face darkened, and I knew before he spoke that the answer would hurt. "I found her in a psychiatric hospital. Jake Bruckner dumped her there... and forgot about her."

The moment the name escaped his lips, my mother flinched violently, her entire body tensing as if struck by lightning. Him. Her voice was a hiss, venomous and filled with rage. "That's the bad man. That's the man who took my daughter from me."

She clung to me, her eyes wild with fear and fury. "I won't let him take you again. I won't. I'll protect you this time. I promise..."

It took everything to calm her down, to reassure her that I was safe, that he couldn't hurt us anymore. But the more I spoke, the more I realized how much damage had been done. My mother, the woman who had once been my rock, had been broken by the very man that had taken me for granted and exploited my innocence all these years.

Eventually, her exhaustion took over, and she drifted into a fitful sleep, her fingers still gripping mine. I stayed by her side for as long as I could, just watching her breathe, trying to piece together what this all meant. I wasn't ready to leave her, not after just finding her again. But I knew I had to.

As Samuel and I left the room, the weight of everything pressed down on me. The cold truth: my father had ruined her. He had stolen the woman she once was and left a shattered version in her place. And for that, I knew one thing for certain: Jake Bruckner had to pay.

We returned to the mansion in silence, both of us lost in our own thoughts. But as soon as we were inside, I turned to Samuel, my voice steady but sharp. "We need to talk."

He led me to his study, and I shut the door behind us. The room felt heavy, the air thick with unspoken words. I didn't bother sitting. I needed answers, and I needed them now.

"Samuel," I started, pacing the floor. "What's the plan to take him down? Jake Bruckner deserves to pay for what he's done. To my mother. To me."

Samuel's eyes flickered with something-was it hesitation? Concern?-but he quickly masked it with the same resolve I'd come to know. "I'm going in for the takedown next week."

"Good," I said, my voice hard. "I'm coming with you. I want to see his face when he loses everything."

He shook his head, stepping closer. "Fiona, don't let the hate consume you. You're too sweet for that. Trust me, I know what it feels like. It's poison."

I let out a bitter laugh. "Sweet? Samuel, after everything, do you really think there's any sweetness left in me? My mother mentally unstable because of him, you lost your wife and baby and he used me and made me feel worthless at the end, all for his greed"

"Shhhh"He hushed me with a smile, a soft, almost sad smile. "One hater in this relationship is enough, don't you think? Let me do the hating. You don't do it as good as I do"

The tension between us cracked, and I found myself laughing through the anger, through the pain. Samuel pulled me into his arms, and I kissed him, fierce and desperate, wanting to feel something other than the rage boiling inside me. His lips met mine with equal passion, and for a moment, it was just the two of us, lost in each other.

That is, until a knock at the door interrupted us.

"Dinner's ready," Bruno called from the other side, his voice muffled but unmistakable.

We groaned in unison, and Samuel pressed his forehead against mine, muttering, "Saved by dinner."

The rest of the evening passed in a haze. We ate, we talked, but my mind kept circling back to my mother, to the plan, to the revenge that loomed on the horizon. Later, as I lay in bed beside a sleeping Samuel, I couldn't shake the uneasy feeling in my chest. I still hadn't settled my thoughts about Samuel's faith-or lack thereof.

A scripture whispered in the back of my mind, uninvited but comforting nonetheless. Cast all your cares upon Him, for He cares for you. I closed my eyes, letting the words wash over me. Maybe that was the answer. Maybe I just needed to let go and trust that God would take care of it, of us. Of everything.

With that prayer on my lips, I placed my hand on Samuel's chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "God, please, save him," I whispered, a plea as much for me as for him.

And then, finally, I let myself drift into the warmth of his arms and sleep.

A/N: Hope you like this as much as I do. Even as the author I felt so emotional writing this piece