All Chapters of Billionairess By Survival : Chapter 111 - Chapter 117

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The day after Liam proposed still felt like a dream. Every time I caught sight of the ring glinting on my finger, my heart would race and a goofy smile would pull at my lips. I hadn’t even told Becca yet. She deserved to know first—after all, she had been the very reason my life had taken this turn. So, when the doorbell rang that morning and I opened it to see her standing there with her usual bright grin and a bag of croissants in her hand, my heart leapt. “Good morning, sunshine!” Becca chirped, walking in as though she owned the place. “Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten yet.” I laughed, closing the door behind her. “Not yet. But I’m glad you’re here.” We settled on the couch, the croissants between us, coffee steaming on the table. Becca’s eyes, always sharp and curious, scanned my face. “You look… different. Happier. Like something big happene

LIAM'S POINT OF VIEW The room had grown quiet. The kind of quiet that carries its own weight — not heavy, not empty, just… soft. Seirra’s head rested against my chest, her breaths slow and steady, her lashes fanning delicately against her cheeks. She had dozed off mid-sentence, somewhere between telling me about how her mum had insisted she learn to bake bread at twelve and teasing me for never having folded laundry properly in my life. Now, here she was, the woman who had stormed through every wall I built around myself, curled against me like I was the only place she wanted to be. And God, I loved her for it. I didn’t move. I didn’t even dare shift. I just stared at her — at the gentle way her lips parted when she sighed, at how her hair spilled over my arm, at the way her presence filled every corner of my world without even trying. If someone had told me months ago that this woman — Seirra Morgan —

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The week after the wedding was pure chaos—boxes stacked in every corner, Claire rolling her eyes dramatically as she helped me sort out clothes, Becca teasing me about how many dresses I wanted to bring along as if I was moving my entire wardrobe. Liam was calm though, annoyingly calm. While I panicked over swimsuits, sandals, and dresses, he simply folded three shirts, two shorts, and called it a day. “Babe,” he said, watching me dart around the room with hangers in both hands, “we’re going for two weeks, not relocating permanently.” I shot him a glare. “And what if we decide to stay longer? What if I want to look good for every sunrise and every dinner? What if—” “—what if you end up living in your swimsuit like I know you will?” He grinned, tugging me closer by the waist until I dropped all the clothes onto the bed. “You could wear the same thing for two week