Chapter 92

Miranda/Laila’s POV

After the fiery confrontation with my stepmother, I returned to my room, my heart still pounding with satisfaction. The tension of standing toe-to-toe with her, the woman who had tormented me for years, lingered in the air like a storm about to break. My room, dimly lit by the soft glow of my bedside lamp, offered a semblance of peace—though peace was the last thing I felt.

From my window, I could see Mara’s locked room, just adjacent to mine. The faint light leaking from beneath her door cast a shadow of unease. I had deliberately chosen that room for her—close enough to hear every word she screamed, every desperate cry for help. Call me cruel, but this was justice. She was feeling a fraction of the agony I endured when she pushed me into that ocean, leaving me to die.

I sat on the edge of my bed, surfing the web on my phone, feigning indifference. But my ears were sharp, tuned to her every sound. It wasn’t long before the wails began.