Semua Bab Billionairess By Survival : Bab 81 - Bab 90

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW I hadn’t planned on saying it tonight. Not when things between Mum and me finally felt… soft again. For the first time in years, we weren’t snapping at each other, throwing barbed words like darts, or circling the same old wounds. Tonight had been simple—warm laughter, memories stitched into stories, little apologies hidden inside casual remarks. But the truth burned at the back of my throat, heavy, restless. I couldn’t keep it inside any longer.“I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt.Mum’s hand froze halfway to her glass of wine. Her eyes—gentle but sharp in the way only mothers’ eyes could be—lifted to mine. “Tomorrow?”I nodded. “Yeah. I can’t keep hiding here, Mum. It’s been… nice, being home, but this isn’t where I belong anymore. I need to get back to my life.”Her lips pressed into a line, and for a second, I thought she’d argue. But she didn’t. She set her glass down carefully, like she was buying herself time. “It was lovely hav

LIAM'S POINT OF VIEW The silence in my penthouse had never felt this loud.For years, I had prided myself on being the man who could control anything — the boardroom, the market, the city itself if I wanted. Deals bent my way, people fell in line, and success clung to my name like a second skin. Liam Foster. The man who had everything.Except now, none of it mattered. Not the titles, not the headlines, not the zeros in my bank account. All I could think of was her.Seirra.And she was gone.I raked my hands through my hair and paced the floor, my chest heavy with the ache I couldn’t shake. She hadn’t just left me — she had vanished, like air slipping through my fists no matter how tightly I tried to hold on. I had searched every corner I could think of, asked around discreetly, even had my driver run down a few old connections who usually had answers. But this time, it was like she had disappeared from the face of the earth.And the cruel part? I couldn’t even blame her.She didn’t w

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW I am a survivor. That’s what I keep telling myself every single morning I wake up, look into the mirror, and force my reflection to meet my gaze. My reflection doesn’t always believe me. Some days, the woman staring back at me looks tired, fractured, and weighed down by memories she has no business carrying anymore. But I am Sierra Morgan. I survived Logan Hart. I survived Liam Foster. And if life thinks it can throw more at me—I’ll survive that too.The funny thing about love is how it tricks you. It blinds you into believing someone’s lips when they whisper promises at night. I believed Logan when he said I was his forever. I believed Liam when he swore he wasn’t like Logan. Now, I know better. Now, I know there’s no difference between them.Logan Hart and Liam Foster.Two men with different faces, different smiles, different lies—yet the same betrayal written into their DNA. Birds of the same damn feather.

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW The silence in my office was thick enough to choke me. My laptop screen glowed faintly, the blinking cursor mocking me with its emptiness. Reports lay scattered across my desk, untouched. Numbers and words should have been my focus, but my mind wasn’t here. Not when the air still carried the scent of betrayal, not when the man who shattered me still haunted every shadow. And then, as if the universe wanted to spit in my face one more time, the door opened. Liam. He walked in like he owned the world. Tall, broad-shouldered, his tie slightly loosened as though he’d come straight from somewhere important—maybe even glamorous. His shoes clicked against the tiled floor, each step echoing like a countdown to my breaking point. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, heat crawled up my throat, but I forced my featu

SEIRRA'S POINT OF VIEW I smoothed down the hem of my navy suit dress, fixing the delicate silver pin at my collarbone as I glanced at my reflection. The “Women in Tech and Business Panel” banner gleamed above the hotel stage, reminding me of the weight of where I was—who I had become despite everything. This was my moment. To stand tall. To prove, to myself more than anyone else, that I was not broken, not the shadow of a woman who had once lost everything—her child, her husband, her peace. I inhaled slowly, pinning a smile on my face. The cameras had been everywhere, the women had been chatty, and the energy was thick with competition disguised as encouragement. Women supporting women—at least that’s what the flyers promised. But I knew the faces that lurked here. Sabrina. Tessa. Bianca. Those three weren’t here to support me. They were here to watch me trip. To remind me of every reason I should’v