The enemy's daughter

“Look who we have here,” I said.

I was almost amused by the shock in her eyes.

She knew she was doomed.

She knew the job offer was gone.

“Ehm... I'm here to see Mr. Kelvin. He owns this organization.”

“Why are you stuttering, eh?”

I snapped my fingers.

“Selena.”

“Yeah, Selena. Why are you stuttering? Weren't you the Almighty girl? What happened to all your ranting now?”

She lowered her gaze.

“Where is Mr. Kelvin?”

“Well, if you must know, Kelvin is my best friend. Whatever is mine is his, and vice versa.”

I laughed.

“So I'm kind of your boss.”

She hesitated.

“Okay, then. Can I have my seat?”

“Sure. Sit, sit. I don't want your pretty little legs to get hurt.”

She sat down quietly.

I picked up her documents and began going through them.

And honestly, I was impressed.

She had graduated with a first-class degree in Business Administration. Her file was filled with excellent qualifications, recommendations, and lots of credentials.

On paper, she was exactly the kind of person Kelvin needed.

Unfortunately for her, I wasn't interested in what was written on paper.

I was interested in making her uncomfortable.

Throughout the interview, I tried my possible best to irritate and annoy her.

I asked difficult questions.

I interrupted her.

I deliberately challenged some of her answers.

But she pushed it off every time and kept going.

She didn't lose her composure.

That irritated me even more.

Eventually, she closed her file.

“I'm done.”

“Okay, then. Write down your name.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“I honestly didn't really go through all of you guys' names. I don't have the strength.”

“Lazy,” she muttered as she wrote down her name.

My head snapped up.

“What did you say?”

My voice became firm.

“Nothing, sir. I'm sorry.”

She quickly finished writing.

I glanced down at the paper.

Selena Whitamore.

My eyes froze on the name.

Whitamore.

The name rang a bell in my head.

No.

Not just a bell.

A warning.

Whitamore.

I hated that name.

The name that took my parents.

The name that made me an orphan.

The name that made me suffer for years while I fought to build my empire.

My hand slowly formed into a fist.

I could hear my grandmother's voice echoing in my head.

Be strong.

Be powerful.

Be heartless.

Never forgive.

I looked at Selena.

“Any relation to David Whitamore?”

She looked confused by the sudden change in my expression.

“Yes. He's my father. How do you know him?”

My blood ran cold.

My fingers tightened into a fist.

It was him.

His daughter.

The daughter of the man who had destroyed my family.

The anger I'd spent years carrying came rushing back all at once.

“Get out.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Security!”

My voice echoed through the office.

“Security!”

She stood up, completely confused.

“Hey, what's happening?”

“You came back to destroy me, huh, Whitamore?”

Her eyes widened.

“What are you talking about?”

“Killing my parents wasn't enough?”

“Sir, what's happening? I'm confused.”

“Where are the God-damned security?”

I slammed my hand against the desk.

“Security!”

This time, I screamed even louder.

“No wonder your presence irritates me. Daughter of a murderer.”

Her face fell.

“Sir, please...”

She stepped toward me.

“I need the job for my dad's treatment. He has cancer.”

I stared at her.

I heard the words.

But the anger inside me drowned everything else out.

“Security!”

The doors finally opened.

Two security guards rushed inside.

“I'm so going to fire all of you God-damned security!”

I stood up.

“Get her out of my office.”

“Sir, please!”

She looked at me desperately.

“I don't understand what I did.”

I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door.

She struggled to keep up with me.

“Please, sir! I need this job!”

“Get out!”

I pushed her toward the security guards.

They immediately took over.

She stumbled onto the floor, tears filling her eyes as she looked up at me.

“Please... just tell me what I did.”

I stared down at her.

God knew, if she had been a man, my anger would have taken over completely.

But I wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose control any further.

“Take her away.”

The guards pulled her to her feet and escorted her out.

She kept begging for the job until the doors finally closed behind her.

I stood there, breathing heavily.

Whitamore.

That name had followed me for years.

And now his daughter had walked straight into my office.

I couldn't handle my anger anymore.

I grabbed my things and left.

I went home.

I needed to be alone.

Because for the first time in years, the hatred I'd buried inside me had come roaring back.