Billionairess By Survival

　　SIERRA'S POINT OF VIEW

　　Smack.

　　My head tilted slightly. Not from pain—just shock.

　　Logan didn't say a word at first. Just stared at me like I was nothing.

　　"You always find a way to disappoint me," he muttered.

　　"I didn't mean to upset you," I whispered, blinking fast. My voice was barely a breath. "I—I was only trying to help."

　　"Help?" He scoffed, adjusting his cufflinks like the conversation bored him. "You call this help?"

　　I lowered my eyes. "I made your favorite, Sir. Toasted just the way you like it..."

　　He glanced at the untouched tray on the floor, now scattered. Fish. Toast. Juice. A morning I tried to make perfect—ruined.

　　"You think breakfast makes up for disrespect?" His voice was cold. Distant. Like a stranger wearing my husband's face.

　　"I wasn't disrespecting you, Logan. I swear."

　　He stepped closer, towering. My heartbeat stuttered.

　　His hand didn't rise again, but his words cut sharper.

　　"Next time, don't try so hard. You'll only embarrass yourself."

　　I wanted to ask what I did wrong, but I stayed silent. I'd learned the hard way—questions made it worse.

　　Still, the ache inside me wouldn't shut up.

　　"I love you, Logan," I said quietly.

　　He didn't flinch.

　　Didn't blink.

　　Didn't care.

　　I stood there, holding my breath like it might hold the pieces of me together.

　　He turned away, grabbed his keys, and walked to the door.

　　No hug.

　　No glance.

　　Not even a goodbye.

　　Just the sound of his shoes echoing across marble as he left.

　　Again.

　　And the slam of the door behind him.

　　I exhaled. Shaky. Slow. Like I'd been underwater too long.

　　My legs folded beneath me as I sank to the cold floor, my hand brushing the edge of the tray. The juice was soaking into the rug. The toast was untouched. Just like me.

　　Why did I keep trying?

　　Why did I keep hoping?

　　I wiped my cheek with my sleeve. I wasn't crying this time. Just tired. Tired of wondering what I did wrong. Tired of wishing for a version of him that only existed in memories.

　　Maybe I was foolish. Maybe I was broken.

　　But I still loved him.

　　Or... maybe I loved the idea of him.

　　The man who once called me his sunshine.

　　The man who used to laugh when I danced barefoot in the kitchen.

　　The man who... vanished.

　　Now, all I had was silence.

　　And silence was a cruel companion.

　　I looked around the empty room.

　　Luxurious. Quiet. Cold.

　　Like a cage with a view.

　　I whispered, "Please... just come back. Be the man I married."

　　But deep down, I knew.

　　He was never coming back.

　　Not the real him.

　　And just as I picked up the broken glass with shaky fingers, the front door clicked open again.

　　Footsteps. Slow. Steady.

　　Logan?

　　My heart jumped.

　　But when I looked up...

　　The loud knock came like a punch.

　　I flinched.

　　Then again—bang, bang, bang.

　　It wasn't just any knock. It was the kind that didn't care what time it was or who it woke up.

　　I dragged myself off the couch, still in the same dress from last night. The one I wore while waiting for Logan to come home. He never did.

　　I opened the door slowly.

　　It wasn't him.

　　It was worse.

　　Two bodyguards stood there. Cold eyes. No greetings.

　　"What is it?" My voice cracked.

　　One of them pointed behind me. "We're here for your things."

　　"My... what?"

　　Then Logan walked in. Calm. Sharp. Like a man on a mission. He didn't even glance at me.

　　"Pack her bags. Now."

　　My heart froze. "Logan? What are you saying?"

　　He didn't answer.

　　The guards moved past me like I didn't exist.

　　"Wait! Wait!" I rushed after him. "Logan, please talk to me!"

　　He turned around. "You're leaving. Today."

　　I stood still. Numb. "Why? What did I do?"

　　"You breathe. That's enough."

　　The words slapped harder than any hand ever could.

　　"I gave everything for you," I whispered, shaking. "I've been patient. Loyal. I stayed even when—"

　　He cut me off. "And I didn't ask you to."

　　I stumbled back, breath hitching. "You can't just throw me out like this—"

　　"Watch me."

　　Clothes landed at my feet. My shoes. My purse. Everything dumped carelessly.

　　My knees hit the floor. "Logan, please. I have nowhere to go."

　　He didn't blink.

　　Tears rushed down my face. "I love you."

　　He rolled his eyes. "That's your problem."

　　Then I heard it.

　　That laugh.

　　High. Sharp. Fake.

　　I turned slowly.

　　And there she was—Tessa Blacks.

　　In my house. Wearing my robe. Standing beside my husband.

　　"Oops," she said with a smirk. "Did I interrupt something?"

　　My whole body went cold.

　　"Tessa?" I whispered. "You... you're sleeping with him?"

　　"Sleeping?" she laughed again. "Honey, I own him now."

　　My hands clenched. "Get out of my house."

　　She stepped forward. "Correction. His house. You? You're just the guest who overstayed."

　　I looked at Logan. "Tell her she's wrong. Tell her to leave."

　　He didn't.

　　He stood right there. Silent. Still.

　　Like he agreed.

　　Like she was right.

　　"Tessa," I snapped. "You've always been jealous of me. Is this your revenge? You can have him. But you'll never be me."

　　"Oh, babe," she smiled sweetly. "Why would I want to be the forgotten wife?"

　　That broke something in me.

　　"You're nothing but a cheap replacement," I hissed.

　　She tilted her head. "Funny. He said the same thing about you last night."

　　Logan didn't stop her. He didn't even flinch.

　　"Logan," I begged. "Say something."

　　He sighed. "You always talk too much, Sierra. That's part of the problem."

　　That was it.

　　That was the moment I knew he wasn't mine anymore.

　　The guards dragged out my last bag.

　　Tessa leaned in, fake-pouting. "Need a ride? Maybe the bus still runs this early."

　　I swallowed hard, blinking through hot tears.

　　Then I picked up my things, one by one.

　　No goodbye. No fight left.

　　I walked out the door.

　　The cold night air hit my skin like ice.

　　I kept walking.

　　Down the driveway. Away from the house. Away from him. Away from everything.

　　I didn't know where I was going.

　　But I knew I couldn't look back.

　　And just when I thought the worst part was over...

　　A car pulled up beside me.

　　The window rolled down.

　　And the last person I expected to see... was behind the wheel.