My Enemy's Daughter 'complete'

Name: My Enemy's Daughter 'complete'
Rating: 0 (1 reviews)
Author: Godson_Lovely

Tác giả: Godson_Lovely

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Tóm tắt

Twenty-one years ago, the wife Samuel Fox had married at the young age of eighteen, with the hope of spending the rest of his life with, was murdered on "accident" with his unborn child by her jealous and deranged admirer Justice wasn't served then because his wife's murderer had a rich daddy that could pay for his freedom But guess what? Samuel's back with money, influences and both legal and illegal schemes to avenge the death of wife and child! And also make her murderer pay! There's just one small issue, his enemy has a daughter that makes his heart beat faster than it should and make him loose his breath when she's near by I definitely see trouble and complications brewing... But read on to know what happens between Samuel and His enemy's daughter A/N: to readers I've edited my work and I'm pleased to announce that this book is now completed in my drafts and I'll be posting five chapters weekly. Stay tuned

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5 thẻ

Chapter 1chapter 1

Samuel's POV

I woke up to the incessant beeping of a machine beside me. My groggy mind, desperate for some semblance of clarity, focused on the first thought that burst through the haze of my pain: "Where the hell is my wife?!" I screamed, my voice hoarse and ragged. I tried to sit up, but my body was too weak, every movement sending waves of agony through me.

"Calm down, Mr. Fox. You've just had surgery, and your stitches are still fresh. Take a deep breath and try to relax," the doctor said, his tone irritatingly composed.

"I don't give a damn! Just tell me where my pregnant wife is!" I yelled again, struggling against the constraints of my pain. Every fiber of my being was focused on finding her, no matter the cost.

"You're still weak. You've been in a coma for two weeks," the doctor continued, his voice steady but firm, trying to explain the gravity of the situation.

"Two weeks! I need to find my wife now! I remember the accident—being hit by a jeep while driving, and she was in the car with me!" I gritted my teeth against the sharp pain and began to push myself up, determined to leave the hospital.

"You can't do that. You'll rip your stitches," the doctor said, moving quickly to my side to push me back down.

"I'm finding my wife myself if you won't tell me where she is!" I barked, my frustration and desperation making me fight harder against his hold.

The doctor sighed deeply, clearly exasperated, before speaking again, "I'm sorry, but you and your wife were rushed into this hospital at the same time. You survived, but you went into a coma. She… she didn't make it. She passed away an hour after arrival. She had severe internal injuries. We did everything we could."

His words hit me like a sledgehammer. I stared at him in stunned silence, the weight of his revelation sinking in. "No! No! No! That's not possible! Maggie wouldn't leave me! She made a promise!" I screamed, my voice cracking with raw anguish.

"You need to calm down," the doctor repeated, trying to keep me on the bed.

"No! You're lying! Maggie is still alive! I'm going to find her!" The adrenaline surged through me, fueling my desperate struggle against the doctor's efforts to keep me still.

"Stay still or you'll cause more damage!" the doctor grunted, his voice rising in desperation.

"I don't care! I must find my wife!" I shouted, my voice a mix of defiance and despair.

"I need extra hands in room 140, ward B, and a tranquilizer shot! Stat!" the doctor barked into an intercom. Within moments, four men rushed in, each grabbing hold of a limb as they restrained me.

A nurse handed the doctor an injection, and he approached me, but I fought with all my remaining strength. "No! Don't come closer! Let me go! Don't!" I thrashed, but the men held me down with unyielding force.

"I'm really sorry, but I had no other choice but to do this for your own good," the doctor said softly before walking out, the door clicking shut behind him.

"No! No! Nooo noooo" I continued to repeat, my voice growing weaker, the drug taking hold and pulling me into an unwanted slumber.

---

"No!" I yelled, springing up from bed, the familiar darkness of the room enveloping me. My body was drenched in sweat, and my sheets were soaked. I glanced at the alarm clock—it was four a.m.

I stumbled out of bed and made my way to the king-sized bathroom, taking a hasty shower. The cold water did little to wash away the oppressive weight of my nightmares. I walked to the balcony of my private beach house, a place that had once been a dream shared with Maggie.

This routine had become my nightly ritual for the past twenty-one years: waking from dreams of the worst day of my life, only to face the stark, painful reality of their loss. The house, grand and solitary, stood as a monument to dreams that were ripped away by fate.

With a heavy heart, I returned to the room, grabbed fresh sheets, and replaced the sodden ones. Maggie's picture and the sonogram of our deceased child were always on the reading table. I picked them up, kissed them, and spoke with fierce determination.

"Don't worry, angels. I'll make sure he pays for ruining our lives… and then I'll come join you both. That's a promise," I vowed to the silence of the room.

Today marked the beginning of the plan I had meticulously crafted over the years. My promise to Maggie and our child was about to be fulfilled.

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