Miranda's POVI leaned back in my chair, staring out the window of my Paris office as the sun dipped behind the city’s skyline. Paris had always been a place of inspiration for me, a city of dreams and love. But at that moment, the Eiffel Tower’s glow felt distant and cold. My life had become a whirlwind of responsibilities since my father’s passing a year ago. As his only child, I had inherited everything—his company, his estate, his legacy. Towers Corporations was now my responsibility, and I was determined to prove I could uphold his name.Despite the weight of it all, there was one anchor in my life that kept me grounded—my husband, Desmond. Desmond Howard had been my college sweetheart, the man I fell hopelessly in love with and married two years ago. I trusted him implicitly, loved him unconditionally. He was my safe haven in a world filled with boardroom battles and corporate politics. His charm, his smile, the way he supported me even when I doubted myself—it all reminded me w
**Miranda’s POV** My heart was pounding, each beat thudding like a drum in my chest as I opened the door to our bedroom. The sight that greeted me made my knees weaken, my breath catching in my throat. My husband, Desmond, the man I had fought my family for, the man I’d spent two years loving despite their warnings, was lying in our bed with my cousin—Brenda. Brenda’s bare shoulders peeked out from beneath the sheets as she clutched them to her chest, her face flushed with embarrassment. Desmond didn’t even try to cover himself. Instead, he looked at me with wide eyes, his lips parting as though he had something to say. For a moment, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of my own breathing, sharp and ragged, as the betrayal of the scene before me sank in. “Miranda… I can explain—” Desmond began, his tone calm yet pleading, as if he believed there was some version of this situation where I wouldn’t explode in fury. “Explain?” I hissed, my voice trembling but gaining s
Another family.Laila’s POVMy name is Laila Martins, daughter of the late Emperor Martins—one of the wealthiest and most influential men in London. You’d think my life was a dream come true, filled with luxury, privilege, and endless opportunities. But that’s far from the truth.Since my father’s untimely death, my existence has been nothing short of a nightmare. I’m nothing but a maidservant in the very house I was born into. My father, after my mother’s tragic death during my childbirth, married another woman. At first, my stepmother was kind and loving—a true angel sent to heal our broken family. But the moment she gave birth to my stepsister Mara, her mask slipped. She became a tyrant, and Mara, my supposed sister, transformed into a demon in human form.I still remember the first time they turned against me. Mara had broken one of my father’s priceless vases, and when I tried to explain what had happened, my stepmother slapped me so hard my ears rang.“Don’t you dare accuse my d
Miranda's POVWhen I emerged from the riverside, water dripped from my borrowed body, pooling at my feet as the early sun warmed my skin. My breath came in short gasps, my mind racing. I wasn’t Miranda anymore. No, not in this reality. My reflection earlier had confirmed it—I now inhabited Laila Martins’ body. A fresh chance, a twisted kind of miracle. I straightened my spine, wiping away the salty tears that mingled with the ocean’s residue. If the heavens had given me this second chance, I wasn’t going to waste it.Standing by the road, I hailed a taxi with a trembling hand. The driver, an older man with kind eyes, gave me a curious glance."Miss Martins?" he asked, tilting his cap."Yes," I managed to say, voice steadier than I felt. Laila’s voice. Soft, melodic, yet weighed down with sadness.He nodded and began driving. For the next ten minutes, I stared out the window, my mind spinning. Laila’s memories were faint but present, like whispers at the back of my mind. I wasn’t just
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'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.