92
Miranda/Laila's POV
After 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. I rose from my seat, my expression hardening as my resolve solidified. Draped in a silk robe that whispered elegance but radiated power, I left my apartment. My heels clicked against the marble floors as I made my way to the kitchen, intent on grabbing a bottle of water.
As I neared the hall, muffled shouting caught my attention. My footsteps slowed, my ears pricking at the sound of Mara’s screeching voice. The words were indistinct, but her tone carried frustration, anger, and desperation. I followed the noise to her room, the door slightly ajar.
Peeking inside, I saw her sitting on her disheveled bed, her hair wild and her face contorted with fury. The room was a disaster—pillows strewn across the floor, drawers yanked open, and papers scattered everywhere. She threw a pillow across the room, shouting, “We were this close! Mother and I had everything planned! Why did Laila have to come back? Why?!”
I pushed the door open with a deliberate creak, announcing my presence. “Maybe it’s because I’ve done more good in this world than you could ever imagine, and fate decided to give me another chance.” My voice was calm but carried an undertone of menace.
Mara spun around, her eyes wide with shock before narrowing into a glare. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped, rising to her feet. “Are you here to torment me even more after humiliating me this morning in front of the board?”
I smirked, crossing my arms. “Obviously. I’m here to settle some old scores.”
Her nostrils flared as she stormed toward me, her hand raised to strike—a move she had likely perfected during her years of bullying me. But this time, I wasn’t the timid Laila she once knew. I caught her wrist mid-air, twisting it slightly and forcing her to cry out.
“The next time you raise your hand at me, Mara,” I hissed, my voice low and dangerous, “you’ll regret having hands at all.” I released her with a shove, sending her stumbling backward.
“You think you’re so righteous, don’t you?” she sneered, clutching her wrist. “What if you’re right? What if I did try to kill you? You have no proof, so you can’t do anything about it.” She let out a bitter laugh, her defiance igniting my fury further.
I stepped forward, my hand swinging before she could react. The slap landed with a resounding crack, and she stumbled back, holding her cheek in shock. Her wide eyes met mine, a mixture of disbelief and fear swimming in their depths.
“How dare you!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “You’ve never stood up to me before!”
I let out a cold laugh, shaking my head. “And that’s exactly why you’ve gotten away with so much. But those days are over, Mara.”
Her rage boiled over, and she lunged at me, grabbing my hair in a futile attempt to overpower me. But she underestimated my strength and resolve. I shoved her to the floor, pinning her beneath me as I landed a punch to her face.
She cried out, thrashing beneath me. “Let me go! If you kill me, you’ll go to jail!”
“And so what?” I spat, my hand tightening around her throat. “Do you think I care? Death would be a mercy compared to what you deserve. When you killed me, did you think you’d get away with it forever?”
Her eyes bulged as she struggled to breathe, her hands clawing at mine. “Help!” she gasped. “Someone help me!”
I chuckled darkly, leaning closer so she could see the cold fire in my eyes. “Scream all you want, Mara. I fired all the guards and maids stationed outside your room. No one will hear you, and no one will come.”
Her struggles weakened as my words sank in. “You… you fired them? Mom is in charge of the staff here!”
I tilted my head, feigning pity. “Oh, sweet Mara. It seems you still don’t understand. This mansion is registered in my name, not your mother’s. I’m in charge here now. But don’t worry—I won’t kill you. Not yet, anyway. I want you to suffer first, to feel every ounce of pain you caused me.”
I released her, and she collapsed to the floor, coughing and clutching her neck. Tears streamed down her face as she glared up at me, her expression a mix of hatred and despair.
“You… you monster!” she croaked. “How could you do this to me?”
I ignored her pathetic cries, turning to the door. “Drongo!” I called. My loyal guard appeared almost instantly, his stoic face betraying no emotion.
“Yes, Miss Laila?”
“Take her away. Lock her up in the basement. No one is to feed her or release her without my explicit permission.”
Mara’s eyes widened in terror as Drongo approached. “No! You can’t do this!” she screamed, struggling as he grabbed her arm and dragged her to her feet. “Laila, I won’t spare you! Let me go!”
Her cries echoed down the hall as Drongo hauled her away, her voice fading into the distance. I stood in the doorway, a satisfied smirk tugging at my lips.
“Rot in there, Mara,” I murmured to myself. “Your suffering has only just begun.”
As the silence settled around me, I took a deep breath, my resolve stronger than ever. This was just the beginning. Mara, my stepmother, my ex-husband, and my cousin—every single one of them would pay for what they did to me. One by one, I would take back everything they stole, and I would leave them with nothing.
Because I wasn’t just Laila Martin anymore. I was Miranda reborn. And this time, no one would stand in my way.