Chapter246 Miranda's Dread
Miranda's head snapped up from the desk.
Her heart seized.
She blinked, disoriented, and checked the time in the corner of the screen.
4:00 a.m.
She sat still for a moment, hand pressed to her chest.
Her heartbeat was off. Fast but hollow, like something had skipped and left a gap. A strange, sourceless dread she couldn't name.
Like something important was slipping away from her somewhere far out of reach.
She shook her head and pushed it down. Her hand went back to the mouse.
The screen lit her tired face. On it were two lists she had spent the entire night building. One with the names of over a dozen competing companies. The other with Martinez.
Miranda yawned hard enough to pull tears from the corners of her eyes.
She rubbed her face and kept going, combing through the data for anything that pointed toward whoever had come after her company.
Time moved to the rhythm of her keyboard.
When her phone rang, she looked up and realized the window had gone bright.
9:00 a.m.
She picked up the phone. Dominic.
Her eyes went flat.
She answered.
His voice was warm and dripping with concern.
"Miranda, I saw the news. How are things looking with the company?"
He had searched her company's name expecting to find something useful and got buried under plagiarism headlines instead. Worried about the thirty million he had put in, he'd decided a well-timed call of concern was the move. Show support, get information, keep himself positioned.
"If things are really falling apart, just say the word. Come to me and your brother. I'm actually at the hospital with Christian right now. He's doing well today. We're both in your corner."
He knew Miranda wasn't likely to warm up to him on her own. Pulling Christian in was deliberate. Banking on the fact that she still had a soft spot for her brother, and by extension, the family.
Miranda had been ready to brush him off.
Then that last sentence landed.
She was on her feet before she realized it, the chair scraping hard across the floor.
"What was that noise?" Dominic's tone sharpened immediately. Then, before she could answer, he shifted direction with a push of urgency. "Actually, with everything going on at your company, does Prescott know? Why hasn't Clifton stepped in yet?"
Miranda pulled in a breath and kept her voice even.
"Clifton already connected me with a top legal team. The company is going to be fine. Don't worry."
The moment Prescott's name hit his ears, Dominic visibly relaxed.
Clifton getting involved meant he still valued Miranda. Which meant there were still cards to play with Prescott.
"Good, good." His mood flipped instantly. "You handle it. Dad believes in you."
A few more empty words of encouragement, and he hung up, satisfied.
Miranda sat in the quiet office, staring at the screen.
She had been looking at competitors. She had been looking at Martinez.
She had not been looking inside Prescott.
Dominic's call just changed that.
Celeste.
She had already proven, without hesitation, that she was capable of engineering a car crash to destroy her own brother.
Doing the same to Miranda's company out of spite wasn't a stretch. It was exactly the kind of move she would make.
The more Miranda turned it over, the clearer it became.
She grabbed her jacket and keys and walked out.
She needed to see it for herself.
--
Thirty minutes later, Prescott Estate.
Miranda left her car outside. The main living room was empty and too quiet.
She dropped her bag on the sofa and sank into it, eyes closed.
She waited.
Close to midday, footsteps finally came down the spiral staircase.
Light, quick steps. Someone humming along to a pop song that didn't quite come together in tune. Every note radiating a mood too good to hide.
Celeste had been too wired to sleep after getting the news last night. She had finally crashed and slept until nearly noon.
She came downstairs in high spirits, mentally savoring the image of Miranda drowning in hate comments and a company in freefall. Maybe crying somewhere. Definitely suffering.
The thought of Miranda ruined, bankrupt, humiliated, made Celeste feel like she could float.
She hopped off the last step.
And then she saw who was on the sofa.
The smile died on her face.
"Miranda?" Her voice jumped up involuntarily, laced with shock and immediate hostility. "What are you doing here?"
Miranda opened her eyes slowly, like someone waking from a nap. She rubbed at them, letting Celeste see the red ringing her eyes, the obvious exhaustion in every line of her face.
"I left some files in the study," she said, her voice a little rough. "Came back to grab them. I was so tired I fell asleep on the sofa."
She stood without another word or a single glance at Celeste and walked toward the stairs, leaving nothing behind but a straight back that looked hollowed out with fatigue.
Celeste watched her go.
She could see it clearly. The exhaustion. The barely-there composure. The effort it was taking Miranda to hold herself together.
A slow, ugly smile spread across her face.
She really had done that much damage.
Good, she thought. You deserve every bit of it.
Clifton was away. No quick return expected. She had already gotten the old man out of the house on a pretext.
Miranda had no one here.
No one to help you now, she thought. You and that company can burn in public together.