91
Miranda/Laila’s POV
To 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 mocking. “You must be lying. How are we supposed to believe that all 70% of your father’s shares belong to you? Without evidence, your claim means nothing!” He leaned back in his chair with a smug grin, clearly believing he had cornered me.
I smirked, my eyes narrowing as I tilted my head slightly. “Mr. Williams, I suggest you choose your words carefully. A man in your position should know better than to doubt without merit,” I said, my voice calm but laced with an edge sharp enough to cut through his arrogance. My stepmother shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but Mara held her ground, glaring daggers at me.
“This isn’t about a will!” Mara snapped suddenly, slamming her fist on the table. “We’re here to discuss who’s more qualified to lead the Emperor’s Company. You’ve never even worked in management before, Laila. You’re unfit!” Her words were sharp, but her voice trembled slightly. I noticed the faintest hint of panic in her eyes. She was scared, and rightly so.
“Oh, Mara,” I said sweetly, leaning forward slightly, “why are you so eager to dismiss the will? Is it because you already know what it contains?”
Mara’s face paled, and for a moment, she was speechless. My stepmother, ever the manipulator, quickly stepped in with a tight-lipped smile. “Now, now, let’s not jump to conclusions,” she said, her tone syrupy sweet. “We’re all just concerned about what’s best for the company, Laila. Surely you can understand that.”
I laughed, the sound light but dripping with disdain. “Concerned? Oh, Hamilton, let’s not pretend you’ve ever been concerned about anything other than your own gain.”
Hamilton’s smile faltered, and her eyes flashed with anger, but she said nothing. She knew better than to engage me directly.
“Miss Laila,” Mr. Williams interjected again, his tone firm, “if you’re so confident in your claim, then provide evidence. Show us the will. If it truly states that the shares belong to you, we’ll have no choice but to accept it.”
I straightened up, brushing an invisible speck of dust off my blazer. “Gladly,” I said, my voice dripping with confidence. I turned to the door and called out, “Mr. Lawrence, you may come in now.”
The door opened, and in walked Mr. Lawrence, my father’s lawyer, carrying a sealed envelope. He moved with quiet authority, his presence immediately commanding attention. All eyes turned to him as he approached the table and placed the envelope in front of me.
“This,” Mr. Lawrence began, holding up the sealed envelope, “is the will of Mr. Martin. It has been kept secure and unopened until this moment.” He turned to me. “With your permission, Miss Laila?”
I nodded. “Please, proceed.”
He broke the seal and unfolded the document, his movements deliberate and precise. The room was so silent you could hear a pin drop. Mara’s breathing grew heavier, and Hamilton’s fake smile tightened even further.
“As per Mr. Martin’s will,” Mr. Lawrence read aloud, “all 70% of his shares in the Emperor’s Company, along with the majority of his assets, are to be inherited by his eldest daughter, Miss Laila Martin. A single property—a condo in the Western District—is to be left to his wife, Mrs. Hamilton, and his stepdaughter, Miss Mara.”
The room erupted into chaos. Mara shot to her feet, her face contorted with rage. “This is a lie!” she screamed. “Father would never do this! That will is fake!” She lunged for the document, but I calmly stepped in her way, holding up a hand to stop her.
“Sit down, Mara,” I said coldly. “Throwing a tantrum won’t change the facts.”
Mara glared at me, her hands trembling with fury. “You think you’ve won, don’t you? You forged this, didn’t you? You always wanted to take everything from me!”
I arched an eyebrow, my lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, Mara, you should really learn to think before you speak. If I were truly as unworthy as you claim, why would Father leave everything to me?”
Before she could respond, Mr. Lawrence cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “There’s one more thing,” he said, his tone grave. “Before his death, Mr. Martin requested a DNA test to confirm the paternity of his daughters. The results…” He paused, handing copies of the document to everyone in the room, “indicate that Miss Mara is not his biological daughter.”
The room exploded into stunned silence. Mara’s eyes widened in horror, and Hamilton’s face went as white as a sheet. “This can’t be true!” Mara shrieked, snatching the document and scanning it frantically. “It’s a lie! A forgery! This isn’t possible!”
Hamilton grabbed her daughter’s arm, her face contorted with desperation. “Calm down, Mara,” she hissed. “Don’t make a scene.”
“A scene?” Mara spat, jerking her arm away. “You’re telling me to calm down when my entire life is being ripped away from me?!” She turned to me, her eyes blazing with hatred. “You did this! You set this up!”
I stepped closer to her, my gaze cold and unyielding. “Mara, the only thing I’ve done is reveal the truth. You’ve spent your life scheming and backstabbing, but now your lies have caught up with you.”
Tears of rage and humiliation streamed down Mara’s face as she collapsed into a chair. “This isn’t over,” she muttered, her voice shaking. “I’ll fight this. I’ll prove that everything here is fake.”
“Oh, please do,” I said, my tone mocking. “But before you embarrass yourself further, let me make one thing clear.” I turned to address the room. “As of today, I am the new CEO of the Emperor’s Company. This is my father’s legacy, and I will honor it.”
The room erupted into murmurs of agreement and disbelief. Hamilton glared at me, her lips pressed into a thin line, while Mr. Williams looked as though he’d swallowed a lemon.