The rise I created

LOGAN'S POINT OF VIEW

I was going crazy.

No… scratch that.

I was already mad.

I sat there, stiff in my chair, hands balled into fists as I stared at the massive screen in front of me. My assistant had just walked out, her heels clicking too loudly for my liking, and the door clicked shut behind her. Silence. That heavy kind of silence that presses against your ears and pounds through your chest.

There it was. Her name.

Sierra Morgan.

Fifth on the list of Top Ten Female Billionaires in America.

FIFTH.

I let out a bitter laugh—low, sharp, venomous. There was no way. There was absolutely no damn way the same Sierra I left, the same girl I crushed and dumped in the dirt like she was trash… was now being celebrated. Glorified. Praised like some queen.

Who did she think she was?

My blood boiled as I scrolled through the article.

“From nothing to a digital empire. Sierra Morgan’s web and tech innovations continue to break boundaries…”

“Where the hell is the full dossier on Sierra Morgan?!” I slammed my fist on the desk, sending papers flying everywhere. “I don’t want scraps—I want everything. Her past, her moves, how she went from nothing to Forbes’ list. How she built that empire.”

Lisa flinched, eyes wide. “Sir, we’re compiling it, but the info is scattered. She’s very private, very calculated—”

“Private? Calculated? That’s exactly why I need all of it!” I stood up, pacing the room like a beast in a cage. “I’m not looking to take her down. I’m trying to understand. How does a girl who was barely noticed turn into this... this powerhouse overnight?”

Mark cleared her throat nervously. “We found some patterns in her business moves. Strategic investments, tight contracts... She’s methodical. Patient.”

I snorted, grabbing a handful of papers and flinging them against the wall. “Patience? No. She’s a damn force. And I need to see every step she took to get there. Every connection, every deal, every risk. I want to study her, not hunt her.”

Lisa bit her lip. “There’s a trail, sir. Small but steady. From a recommendation to contracts, then multiple offers flooding in. We’re piecing it together.”

“Good.” My voice was sharp, cold. “And I want it complete. No holes. No guesswork. If she’s the kind of woman who built herself up from nothing, I want the blueprint. The blueprint of how she moved, who she trusted, what she sacrificed.”

Mark nodded quickly. “We’re digging into her background, education, even her earliest projects. Trying to see the turning points.”

“That’s exactly what I want to know.” I took a breath, voice lowering but fierce. “Because understanding her rise means understanding what it takes to become unstoppable.”

Lisa stepped forward, holding a tablet. “We’ll have the full report ready for your review by noon, sir. Every detail, every connection mapped.”

“Good. No mistakes. No delays.” I leaned forward, eyes piercing. “I don’t want gossip or assumptions. I want facts. I want truth. Because this woman? She’s a game-changer. And if I’m going to move forward, I need to know how she got there.”

Both assistants nodded, trying not to show how tense they were.

I sat back, still burning with the need to know. This wasn’t about tearing her down. This was about learning from the best—figuring out how Sierra Morgan became what she is.

Blah blah blah.

God, it made me want to break something.

She was nothing. She was weak. Crying. Begging. Dependent. I remember how she used to look at me with those soft eyes—like I was the sun or something. Like she couldn’t breathe without me. Pathetic. That’s what she was back then.

But now? Now she was glowing on magazines. Signing contracts. Living in a mansion. Her bodyguard opened her car door in one of the photos I saw. A bodyguard. Sierra. The same girl I told wasn’t worth keeping.

I rose from my chair, pacing.

I don’t know what was eating me more. The fact that she succeeded without me… or the fact that she didn’t even look back. Not once. Not a call. Not a message. Not a whisper.

Like I was nothing to her.

Me. Logan Hart.

The same man who once made her heart race. The man who used to have her under his thumb. Now I was the one being ignored, while her name echoed in business meetings and headlines. I couldn’t scroll through any business page without seeing her damn name or her clean-cut photos.

She didn’t even look like the girl I left behind.

She looked… powerful. Rich. Beautiful.

She looked like a threat.

And that’s what pissed me off the most. She wasn’t supposed to survive me. Let alone win.

But here she was.

And here I was.

Choking on my own pride, watching her climb a ladder I swore she’d never touch.

God help me… I wanted to destroy that ladder.

But something inside me? Some twisted part of me?

It wanted her back.

And that’s what scared me the most.

If the media ever got hold of this…

I’m done.

I’m finished. My name, my reputation, everything I built—gone.

All it would take was one leak. Just one brave journalist to dig deep enough and boom—Logan Grey, exposed as the cruel husband who used Sierra Morgan as his emotional and physical punching bag. The man who turned their so-called home into a warzone. The man who cheated, humiliated her, degraded her.

Hell, I slept withother women in our matrimonial bed.

I didn’t even have the decency to hide it well. She walked in one time and just stood there, tears in her eyes, body shaking—and I looked her dead in the face and told her to get out. Like she was nothing. Like she didn’t matter.

Back then, she didn’t.

At least that’s what I told myself.

I’d laugh with my boys. Tell them how she was boring, too soft, too “clingy.” I made her feel like trash and left her to rot while I partied and made my way through the city. And the crazy part?

I don’t regret it.

Not the cheating. Not the yelling. Not even the way I made her feel small.

Nah.

What I regret—what eats at me now like acid in my throat—is letting her go.

Because if I hadn’t, she wouldn't be here. She wouldn’t be this rich, this powerful. She wouldn’t be on the damn billionaire list, flashing those expensive suits and smiling like she owns the world.

I created this monster. I made her.

She got strong because I broke her.

And that? That’s what messes with my head the most.

If I had just held on a little longer, controlled the situation more—kept her dependent, made her doubt herself a little harder—maybe she wouldn’t have had the strength to leave. To grow. To become this.

But she left. She rose. And now she’s flying so high I can barely see her anymore.

And I hate that.

"I hate that I lost control. I hate that her name is louder than mine now. I hate that men are praising her. That companies are signing her. That women are calling her a role model" I said to myself.

If only they knew.

If they knew the kind of things I did to her behind closed doors. The nights I came home drunk and shoved her against the wall. The times she begged me to love her and I laughed in her face. If they knew how I clipped her wings before she even knew she had them.

I should’ve kept her.

Not because I loved her. Hell no.

But because now?

Now she’s unstoppable.

And I have to live with the fact that I set her free.

And she won.