Miranda/Laila’s POVTo be frank, I couldn’t understand why this man, Mr. Williams, was so insistent on making my life miserable. Ever since I walked into the Emperor’s Company as Laila, he had been an active conspirator with my stepmother, Hamilton, and her daughter, Mara. They were all set on ensuring I wouldn’t become the CEO. Little did they know, I was not just Laila; I was Miranda, and I was more prepared than any of them could imagine. Every word, every action they took against Laila before her untimely death, would be repaid tenfold. Today wasn’t just about taking control of this company—it was about serving long-overdue justice.I straightened my back and looked around the room with a calm yet calculating smile. My stepmother’s smug expression, Mara’s barely concealed arrogance, and Mr. Williams’ defiance all fueled the fire inside me. They thought they could challenge me? Oh, how little they knew.“You don’t have all the shares!” Mr. Williams interrupted, his voice loud and m
Miranda/Laila's POVAfter a long day filled with corporate chaos, I retreated to my apartment—a sanctuary far removed from the clutches of my stepmother and her conniving daughter, Mara. My luxurious space reflected the life I had built after clawing my way back from the grave they buried me in, both literally and metaphorically. Sitting on my plush couch, I savored the comforting aroma of the meal my maids had prepared while one of them massaged my feet. A Netflix drama played in the background, but my mind was far from the screen.As much as I enjoyed these small moments of victory, a storm brewed within me. Memories of my ex-husband and cousin sister flooded back—the two snakes who orchestrated my downfall. I hadn’t forgotten their betrayal, nor had I forgiven it. They were living lavishly off my stolen wealth, blissfully unaware that the reckoning I had planned for them would strip them of everything.But tonight wasn’t about them. Tonight was about Mara and the debt she owed me.
Miranda/Laila's POVRevenge is a dish best served cold, and I’ve always enjoyed serving it frozen. The thrill of reclaiming everything that was stolen from me and watching my enemies squirm under my heel was a high I could never describe. Today was no different. The moment Mara’s guard dragged her away like a thief, I couldn’t help but savor every expression on her face—shock, fear, humiliation. She deserved every second of it.Settling into the plush sofa in the grand sitting room, I gestured for the maids to bring me a glass of wine. They scurried off without a word, their heads bowed, their movements brisk. It pleased me to see them like this. Once upon a time, I was the one bowing, shrinking in corners, too afraid to speak. Those days were over.When the maid returned, placing the tray with a glass of red wine and a plate of roasted chicken before me, I didn’t even acknowledge her. Instead, I took a slow sip, letting the rich flavor of the wine coat my tongue as I leaned back, cro
Miranda/Laila's's POV I was stunned when my stepmother started ranting about the law, as if she had the moral high ground. The audacity of it all left me momentarily speechless. She stood there, her lips pursed, her hands clutched into fists at her sides, while spouting nonsense about her daughter’s supposed innocence. This was the same woman who had joined forces with her precious Mara to ruin my life and even tried to kill me in my first life. That memory alone was enough to make my blood boil, but I refused to let it show. Not this time. I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing me lose my composure. “Stepmother,” I said calmly, though my voice carried an unmistakable edge. “It’s interesting to hear you speak so confidently about the law. Since you’re such an expert, I wonder… Are you aware that both attempted murder and actual murder are punishable by prison sentences? Did you know that?” She glared at me, her eyes narrowing into slits, but she said nothing. “I aske
Miranda/Laila’s POVAfter the fiery confrontation with my stepmother, I returned to my room, my heart still pounding with satisfaction. The tension of standing toe-to-toe with her, the woman who had tormented me for years, lingered in the air like a storm about to break. My room, dimly lit by the soft glow of my bedside lamp, offered a semblance of peace—though peace was the last thing I felt.From my window, I could see Mara's locked room, just adjacent to mine. The faint light leaking from beneath her door cast a shadow of unease. I had deliberately chosen that room for her—close enough to hear every word she screamed, every desperate cry for help. Call me cruel, but this was justice. She was feeling a fraction of the agony I endured when she pushed me into that ocean, leaving me to die.I sat on the edge of my bed, surfing the web on my phone, feigning indifference. But my ears were sharp, tuned to her every sound. It wasn’t long before the wails began.“Get me out of here!” Mara s
Miranda’s POVRevenge, they say, is a dish best served cold. But I prefer it hot, simmering with fury, garnished with calculated moves. My ex-husband and my cousin? Oh, their time is coming, but I am not one to rush perfection. Every move I make, every step I take, leads me closer to their downfall. For now, there’s work to be done.I parked my sleek, obsidian-black Rolls-Royce Phantom at the company gates. The guard, upon recognizing me, scrambled to open the doors. I stepped out, the bright morning sun bouncing off my scarlet Tom Ford suit. My blonde hair, meticulously styled into soft waves, cascaded down my shoulders. A $250,000 Chanel bag dangled effortlessly on my arm, a symbol of my power and success.The confident click of my red-soled Louboutin heels echoed against the polished marble floor as I entered the building. Employees paused mid-task, bowing their heads in respect. “Good morning, ma’am,” they chorused. I offered them a faint smile, my signature combination of warmth
Miranda's POV I stepped out of the boardroom with my assistant tailing behind me, my heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floors. The cool air from the hallway brushed against my flushed cheeks, but the fire inside me remained ablaze. My grip on my Chanel bag tightened, my knuckles white with the effort to restrain the rage bubbling within.“Ma’am, your car is ready,” my assistant said cautiously, her voice trembling slightly. She knew better than to test my patience at a time like this.I gave her a curt nod and strode towards the entrance, my red Tom Ford suit fitting me like a second skin, radiating power and authority. The moment I stepped outside, the chauffeur opened the door to my Rolls-Royce. Sliding into the leather seat, I exhaled deeply, forcing myself to calm down.“Straight to Louie’s Group,” I commanded with a sharp edge in my tone.The chauffeur nodded without a word, and the car purred to life. As we navigated through the bustling streets of the city, I
Miranda/Laila's POVI stepped out of Jonathan’s office, my heels striking the marble floor with a rhythm that mirrored my heartbeat—steady, purposeful, and brimming with victory. Clara, my ever-efficient assistant, was already waiting outside, her tablet clutched tightly to her chest. She shot me an anxious glance, as though gauging the outcome of my confrontation. I didn’t need to say anything; the triumphant smirk playing on my lips said it all.“Let’s go,” I said sharply, brushing past her toward the elevator. Clara followed without a word. As the elevator doors slid shut, I finally let out a small exhale, my fingers flexing against the handle of my designer handbag.“Clara,” I began as the elevator descended, “I need you to schedule an emergency meeting with the board. Send the details to the group chat. Make sure everyone is there.”She nodded swiftly, tapping away on her tablet. “Right away, ma’am.”The ride back to our headquarters felt longer than usual, despite the smooth hum
Miranda's POVI had been waiting for this moment—this one perfect opportunity to settle the score with Brenda. It was almost poetic, really, that life had placed us here. On this set, acting out a scene where she played the mistress, the role she had so gleefully embraced in real life. My heart pounded with exhilaration as I stood across from her, knowing that this wasn’t just a scene to me.This was my revenge.Brenda stood there with that smug expression plastered on her face, her lips curled in a self-satisfied smile as she glanced my way. My stomach churned at the sight of her, but I swallowed the bile rising in my throat. I couldn’t lose my composure—not yet.Desmond, as clueless as ever, stood nearby, chatting with the director. His face was calm, his body relaxed. He didn’t have the faintest idea of what was about to happen. None of them did.“Alright, people,” the director barked, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attentio
**Miranda’s POV** The moment I stepped into the room, I knew she was there. Brenda’s scent lingered, faint yet distinct, like a trail she couldn’t help but leave behind. Desmond was already on the bed, feigning sleep, but I could see right through him. His breathing wasn’t steady; his body language was far from relaxed. I’ve known Desmond for years, long enough to tell when he’s lying. And right now, he wasn’t just lying—he was panicking. I played my part, though. I smiled at him softly, pretending to buy his half-hearted excuse. “Tired, are we?” I asked, walking across the room, my heels clicking against the tiled floor. He muttered something incoherent and shifted slightly, his back turned to me. I made no effort to press him further. Instead, my eyes flickered toward the closet. I didn’t need to open it to confirm what I already knew—Brenda was inside. Her perfume was unmistakable, a suffocating sweetness that always made my stomach churn. How pre
Desmond’s POV The air inside my office was heavy with tension as I returned from dinner with Laila. Her sweet smile lingered in my mind, but not for the reasons she might have hoped. It wasn’t love or admiration that drove my interest in her—it was the plan. The perfect, calculated plan to take over her father’s company, just like I had taken Miranda’s. Miranda, my late wife, who had trusted me blindly. She never saw it coming. I leaned back in my chair, running my hand through my hair, as the memories of how I had betrayed Miranda flooded back. I had manipulated her into loving me, all the while scheming to take her company. And when she became an obstacle, I removed her. It was a necessary evil. Now, with Laila back in London and running her late father’s empire, I saw my next golden opportunity. But she was no fool. Laila was sharper, more resilient, and deeply protective of her father's legacy. Winning her trust—and her hand—would require more finesse. I couldn’t afford to ru
Miranda’s POVThe air in the restaurant was heavy, suffocating almost, as I tried to keep my composure. Across from me, Desmond sat with a grin that stretched too wide, his eyes brimming with an almost childlike excitement. It was nauseating. He leaned closer, his voice cutting through the low hum of the other diners."Miss Layla," he began, his tone overly sweet, "please tell me—you are considering canceling your engagement with Nolan, right? I mean, that would be the best decision you’ve ever made. I’m ready for you. I’ve always been ready."The audacity of his words made me laugh, a short, bitter sound that escaped before I could stop it. If only he knew the truth. If only he understood the depth of his betrayal and the ruin he brought to my life before this second chance. If not for fate intervening, I would’ve been dead by now, buried six feet under while he danced on my grave.Still, I kept my expression neutral, letting my fingers trace the rim of the coffee cup before me. His
Miranda’s POVDesmond blocked my path as I exited the restaurant, his expression plastered with a self-satisfied smirk that did nothing but annoy me. His desperation to hold my attention was written all over his face, and for someone who claimed to have everything under control, he was anything but subtle.“Miss Laila,” he started, his tone a mix of pleading and practiced charm. “I was hoping we could talk.”I didn’t even slow down. “About what, Desmond?” I shot back, barely glancing at him. My voice was calm, but the annoyance was evident in my tone. “Your lies? Your desperate attempts at flattery? Or the chaos you bring wherever you go?”He flinched slightly but quickly masked it with another charming smile. “No, nothing like that,” he said, walking alongside me as I headed into the shopping mall next door. “I just wanted to make things clear between us. I feel like you misunderstand me.”I let out a short, humorless laugh. “Misunderstand you? I don’t think I do. You’re transparent,
**Miranda’s POV** As Desmond blocked my path to the restaurant door, his face wore an expression that was both pleading and frustratingly insincere. I had no interest in entertaining his antics any longer. His lies, his deceit—they were suffocating, and I wasn’t about to let him drag me further into his web of manipulation. He raised a hand slightly, almost as if to stop me physically, but thought better of it. “Miss Laila, please,” he began, his tone low and falsely apologetic. “Let me explain. This is all just a misunderstanding.” I folded my arms across my chest, my lips curling into a faint smile that didn’t reach my eyes. “A misunderstanding? You hitting Brenda was a misunderstanding? Or was it when you suddenly professed love at first sight after meeting me for all of ten minutes?” He blinked, as though stunned by my words. “It’s not like that,” he insisted. “She’s been obsessive. She’s made things unbearable for me, and I had to—” I cut him off with a wave of my hand.
Miranda’s POVDesmond. His name alone was enough to make my skin crawl. A green snake in green grass—a perfect idiom for the kind of man he was. I had known him far too long, loved him far too deeply, and been betrayed by him in ways I could never forget. We had been married for three years, and in those years, I had learned one undeniable truth: Desmond was a master of deception.As Clara and I arrived at the restaurant for lunch, she quickly excused herself to find us a table, leaving me to my thoughts. My gaze naturally scanned the parking lot, and there he was. Desmond. And with him was someone I had hoped never to see again—Brenda.My lips curled into a bitter smile as I watched her wrap her arms around him from behind. The smug grin on her face screamed familiarity, intimacy, and arrogance. Desmond, ever the performer, immediately began pushing her away as soon as he noticed me. His face morphed into one of exaggerated annoyance, but I could see righ
Miranda's POVNolan and Desmond—two men entangled in a dangerous web they believed I couldn’t untangle. Little did they know, I had no intention of being anyone’s pawn. They thought I was weak, someone who could be manipulated, but this time, I held all the cards. I wasn’t seeking love, not from them or anyone. My reincarnation wasn’t a gift for a second chance at romance—it was for revenge.Sitting in my office, Nolan’s words still echoed in my mind. His warning was genuine, his concern palpable. “Desmond is dangerous,” he’d said. I didn’t need his caution. Desmond was my ex-husband, the man who had betrayed and murdered me in my past life. I knew his motives better than anyone.Nolan, on the other hand, intrigued me. There was a sincerity in his voice that made it difficult to brush him off completely. Unlike Desmond, his intentions didn’t seem malicious—at least not yet. But sincerity wasn’t enough to earn my trust. Both men had their sights set on my f
Miranda's POV They were all just barking like dogs, their voices blending into a cacophony of anger and frustration. I stood there, unfazed, watching the chaos unfold. My stepmother and stepsister were putting on a show for everyone in the restaurant, their faces contorted with rage. To me, it was amusing. No matter how loudly they yelled, it didn’t matter. I was prepared for them—more than they realized.But since this was a public place, I knew I couldn't fully indulge in what I wanted to say or do. Still, a part of me itched to stay. I wanted to see just how far they’d go. As I turned to leave, Desmond called out, his voice laced with a desperate apology.“Lila, wait,” he said, stepping toward me.I paused and looked back at him. His expression was conflicted, a mixture of guilt and determination etched across his face. I raised a brow, waiting for him to speak. Before he could, my stepmother rushed toward us, her face red with fury.