Miranda’s POVI returned home that evening, the echoes of my encounter with Desmond and Brenda playing over and over in my head like a victorious symphony. Every little detail brought a sense of satisfaction that I couldn’t help but revel in. I loved seeing the shock etched on Brenda’s face when I snatched the jewelry she wanted right in front of her—especially when she didn’t recognize me. To her, I was someone else. Laila. And that’s exactly how I wanted it.Ending my ex-husband’s contract with my company, the one he so mercilessly stole from me by killing my husband, felt equally rewarding. Even though he was still profiting off what should’ve been mine, the thought of slowly dismantling his world piece by piece fueled me. It was only the beginning, and I had no intention of stopping.I stepped out of my car and walked briskly up the stairs to my apartment, a small grin tugging at my lips. It had been a long day, and all I wanted now was to relax and savor the first few victories i
Miranda’s POVI could have had those two hooligans killed if Nolan hadn’t shown up at the wrong moment. They had the audacity to try and murder me right in my own apartment, claiming no one hired them. Their words were laughable. Who else but Mara and her conniving mother could stoop so low? Of course, I had other enemies—plenty, in fact—but they were amateurs compared to those two serpents. The memory of their smug faces as they threw me down from my pedestal burned in my mind like an open wound.But Nolan... why was he hovering around me like a persistent plague? His presence was unsettling, to say the least. After what I’d been through, love was no longer an option for me—it was a game, a tool I could wield. And if Nolan was willing to follow me like a loyal puppy, I’d use him to make Mara burn with jealousy. Let her drown in the bitterness of what she could never have.“It’s not safe to stay here tonight,” Nolan said, interrupting my thoughts. His voice was low and firm, with a hi
Miranda's POVAs I stepped into my room, I slammed the door behind me, letting out a frustrated sigh. My hands trembled with a mix of anger and adrenaline after the heated encounter with Mara and her wretched mother. My stepmother’s words still echoed in my ears, laced with venom and the audacity to threaten me in my own home.I ran a hand through my hair, pacing the room like a caged lioness. My room, though modest, had become my sanctuary. Its warm, earthy tones and the faint scent of lavender candles I’d lit earlier offered me a shred of solace in a house that was anything but. But even here, I couldn’t shake off the suffocating tension that filled the mansion.Sitting down at my desk, I powered on my laptop. The faint hum of the machine was oddly soothing. Little did Mara or her mother know, I had installed hidden cameras in their room months ago. It wasn’t paranoia—no, it was survival. The cameras gave me eyes and ears on the people who wanted me gone. Every whisper, every scheme
Miranda/Laila’s POVI sat at my desk, sipping my morning coffee while poring over the stack of documents my secretary, Clara, had brought in earlier. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee swirled around me, momentarily easing the tension that had built up over the past few days. I needed this—something to ground me amidst the chaos. Yet, even as I tried to focus, I couldn’t shake the feeling that trouble was brewing. It always was.The knock on my office door pulled me out of my thoughts. Clara stepped in, her face unusually tense, lips pressed tightly together. Before she could speak, another figure emerged behind her. It was Mr. Williams, his usual stiff demeanor replaced by an unsettling smile. My brows furrowed slightly. This man had made his disdain for me clear from the moment I took over as CEO. What could he possibly want now?“Good morning, Miss Laila,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too friendly. “I hope I’m not disturbing you. I’m here to extend a formal invitation.”I plac
Miranda/Laila’s POVThey thought they knew everything, but I will show them they don’t. My stepmom, my stepsister, and even Mr. Williams—they planned it all to ensure I’d be molested. Foolish of them to forget I had other plans.Flashback...I was in my room, dressing up for the party. The crimson gown I wore clung to me perfectly, and I was just fastening a delicate gold chain around my neck when I overheard voices coming from Mara’s room. My hands froze, and I moved closer to the door, careful not to make a sound.“That drunk fool better go to room 101,” Mara said, her voice sharp and commanding. “Do you hear me? Room 101. Not 102. That’s my room. I don’t want any mistakes, Williams. If he messes this up, everything will fall apart!”I stood frozen for a second, her words sinking in like daggers. My heart thudded heavily, but a smirk soon spread across my face. They thought I was clueless, helpless even. They thought wrong.I crept back to my vanity, my mind already forming a plan.
Miranda's POVFor the first time in my life, I felt true satisfaction. Mara thought she could outsmart me, but I gave her a taste of her own medicine—no, I gave it back to her a hundredfold. What she had planned for me had backfired so spectacularly that even I hadn’t anticipated the depth of her humiliation. And tomorrow? Tomorrow would be even better.But the irony of it all was her audacity to come home furious with me. Furious! As if I had done something wrong. Wasn’t this exactly what she had wanted for me? Wasn’t this the humiliation she had planned? Yet here she was, her face twisted in rage, her words flying like daggers meant to cut me down.Her voice echoed through the living room as she screamed, “You did this to me! You caused me this pain! You humiliated me in front of everyone!”I watched her with calm detachment, my arms crossed over my chest. “Oh, Mara,” I said, a smirk tugging at the corners of my lips. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted? You wanted me bruised, broke
Miranda's POVThe shrill beeping of my alarm clock pulled me from the tendrils of sleep. Groaning softly, I reached over and silenced it, blinking at the illuminated display. 6:00 a.m. Like clockwork, my morning routine beckoned. I stretched languidly, savoring the satisfying pop of my joints before sitting up and reaching for the Stanley cup on my bedside table. The warm water slid down my throat, refreshing and grounding me. This ritual, mundane as it was, had become my solace—a moment of calm before the storm that each day inevitably brought.I padded to the mirror and paused, gazing at my reflection. My face was serene, yet my eyes betrayed a storm of emotions—a reflection of the chaos that had become my life. Brushing off the lingering doubts, I moved into the bathroom, brushing my teeth with a vigor that felt almost therapeutic.Emerging with a towel wrapped securely around me, I noticed the tray of breakfast waiting on my table. Toasted bread, cream
Miranda's POV PLEASE INCASE YOU FOUND A NAME A MIRANDA, JUST KNOW THAT IM REFERRING TO BOTH MIRANDA AND LAILA IN ANY OF THE CHAPTERS. THEY ARE THE SAME PEOPLE. The cacophony of reporters surrounded me, their voices sharp and insistent as they hurled questions my way. My heart raced, but I stood firm, keeping my face stoic despite the heat of the cameras flashing in my direction. My gaze flicked briefly to Nolan on my right, his jaw tight with annoyance, and Clara on my left, her lips pressed into a thin line of worry. Their presence was a strange anchor to the chaos threatening to overwhelm me. I focused on the reporters again, meeting their relentless stares with cold defiance. My heart hammered in my chest, but I wouldn’t let it show. This wasn’t the first storm I had faced, and it wouldn’t be the last. "Miss Martins, how many people have you wronged to warrant such backlash?" one reporter sneered, his microphone thrust forward as though he were accusing me of a heinous cri
Miranda’s POVThe 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 predictable of her to hide there, thinking
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 Desmond. 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 right through him. I wasn’t r
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.
Miranda's POV The next morning, I stretched languidly on my puffy bed, savoring the brief calm. The sunlight filtering through the curtains felt unusually gentle, a rare moment of peace I rarely allowed myself to indulge in. That was until my phone buzzed insistently, dragging me out of my reverie. Groaning, I reached for it, curiosity outweighing my reluctance to face the day."Hello, who is this?" I asked, my voice groggy but sharp enough to convey my irritation."Good morning, Ms. Lila," came the smooth, familiar voice.I froze for a second before recognition hit me like a lightning bolt. Desmond. My ex-husband. My lips tightened as I sat up in bed, the sheets pooling around me. How in the hell did he get my number?"It's me, Desmond," he continued. "I wanted to thank you again for what you did yesterday. I owe you one."Feigning calm, I pressed the phone tighter against my ear, forcing my voice to remain neutral. "How did yo
Miranda’s POVAs I stared down at the battered figure of Desmond, I couldn’t help but suppress a sardonic smile. There he was, the man who destroyed me in my past life, lying helpless before me. He clutched his ribs, groaning in pain, his disheveled hair falling over his face. Part of me wanted to leave him there, to let him feel what helplessness truly meant. But another part, the calculating part, saw an opportunity.I crouched down, feigning concern as I tilted my head and forced a sweet smile. “Desmond,” I said, my voice honeyed but devoid of warmth, “are you dying, or are you just being dramatic?”His eyes fluttered open, glassy with pain. “I saved you, didn’t I?” he croaked. “The least you could do is help me now.”I rolled my eyes but quickly masked the motion with a look of feigned worry. “Fine,” I said, brushing invisible dust off my tailored blazer. “But let’s get one thing straight. I’m helping you because I need answers, not because I