Devious act

**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 strength with each word. "Explain how you brought *her* into *our* bed? Explain why you decided to betray me like this?!"

Desmond scrambled to his feet, grabbing his shirt from the floor. Brenda remained frozen on the bed, avoiding my gaze, as if staying silent could somehow make her disappear.

"I… I made a mistake, Miranda," he stammered, his tone desperate now. "I didn't mean for this to happen. You weren't around, and she-"

"Don't you dare," I interrupted, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Don't you dare blame this on me. I wasn't around because I was working late nights to support you-*us*! And *her*?" I turned my glare on Brenda, who flinched under my gaze. "You, of all people. My cousin. My *family*."

Brenda finally spoke, her voice weak. "Miranda, I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Stop!" I snapped, my eyes blazing. "You didn't mean to hurt me? How dare you stand there and pretend this wasn't a deliberate choice? You've been smiling in my face while stabbing me in the back. Both of you are pathetic!"

Desmond stepped forward, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "Miranda, please. Don't let this destroy us. You and I-we've built something together. Don't throw it away because of one mistake."

I laughed bitterly, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "*One mistake*? You call bringing my cousin into my bed a mistake? Desmond, this isn't a mistake-it's a choice. A selfish, disgusting choice. And you know what? I'd rather be alone for the rest of my life than spend another second with someone who doesn't appreciate my love."

The resolve in my voice made him falter, but only for a moment. Then, his expression twisted into something darker. "You're not throwing me out of this house, Miranda. I'm your husband, and I have every right to be here."

"Oh, please," I shot back. "You've lost every right to anything the moment you decided to humiliate me. Get out, Desmond. Take your things and get out before I call the cops."

His jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. "Call the cops? For what? For cheating? Go ahead, Miranda, but let me remind you of one thing. This house? It's just as much mine as it is yours."

I stared at him, incredulous. "Your house?" I repeated, my voice rising. "This house is mine, Desmond. Everything you have is because of me-because of my father. You walked into this marriage with nothing but your empty pockets, and now you have the audacity to claim ownership?"

His lips curled into a sneer. "And whose fault is that? Your father never respected me, and neither did you. You think just because you're the heiress to the Towers legacy, you're better than me? No wonder I cheated. Brenda is twice the woman you'll ever be."

The venom in his words stunned me, but only for a moment. My shock quickly turned to fury. "How dare you speak about my father that way?" I yelled, my voice shaking with rage. "My father gave you everything-everything-and this is how you repay him? By spitting on his legacy? By spitting on *me*?"

Desmond's sneer deepened, his eyes narrowing. "Your father gave me nothing, Miranda. You're just like him-arrogant, controlling, and impossible to love. Brenda, at least, knows how to treat a man right."

Tears burned my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. "You're disgusting," I said, my voice low but steady. "And you'll regret this, Desmond. Mark my words-you'll regret everything you've done. And when I divorce you, you won't be getting not even a dime from my property!"

Turning on my heel, I headed for the door. But before I could leave, he grabbed my arm roughly, spinning me around to face him.

"Where do you think you're going?" he demanded. "We're not done here. You don't get to walk away from me-not after everything I've sacrificed for this marriage."

"Sacrificed?" I repeated, incredulous. "You've sacrificed nothing, Desmond. Everything you have, everything you are, is because of me. And when this divorce is finalized, you'll have nothing. Nothing but the streets and my traitorous cousin."

His face darkened, his eyes flashing with anger. "You think you can just throw me out?" he snarled. "Think again, Miranda. We're married, by law and by God. This house is mine just as much as it's yours, and I'll fight you every step of the way to keep it."

I pulled my arm free, glaring at him. "Try me," I said coldly.

But before I could take another step, he grabbed me again, this time harder, his fingers digging into my arm. "You're not leaving me, Miranda," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "Not until I say so."

"Let me go!" I yelled, struggling against his grip.

"Not until you listen to me!" he shouted back, shaking me.

Suddenly, Brenda appeared, her face pale and tear-streaked. "Desmond, stop!" she cried. "You're hurting her!"

"Stay out of this!" he barked, his grip tightening.

The struggle grew more violent, and before I knew it, he pushed me. The world tilted, and I felt myself falling backward, my feet slipping from beneath me.

The stairs.

I hit the first step hard, pain exploding through my body as I tumbled down. Each impact was brutal, the world spinning around me in a blur of colors and pain. By the time I reached the bottom, I couldn't move. I couldn't even open my eyes.

My head throbbed, and something warm trickled down my temple-blood. My chest rose and fell in shallow breaths, and the voices above me sounded distant, as if coming from another world.

"Is she dead?" Brenda's panicked voice cut through the haze.

Desmond's tone was cold, calculating. "She better be. If she dies, everything is mine. The company, the house-everything."

"But what if the police investigate?" Brenda asked, her voice trembling. "She's not just anyone, Desmond. She's Miranda Towers-the richest heiress in London. People will ask questions."

"They won't find anything," Desmond replied confidently. "We'll say she fell on her own. It's her word against ours, and she won't be saying anything if she's dead."

His words sliced through me like a knife. Even in the haze of pain and darkness, their betrayal burned brighter than anything else. I had loved Desmond, trusted him, and he had wanted me dead all along.

Darkness crept in, pulling me under. My last thought was a vow-if I survived this, I would make him pay for everything he'd done.