Semua Bab A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Bab 161 - Bab 170

Damien’s POVShe was still in the hotel’s white robe, the fabric slightly damp around the edges, clinging to her like a second skin. Her hair, half-dried, framed her face in soft waves, and there was a flush on her cheeks from the hot shower—but it wasn’t warmth. It was something more delicate, more breakable.To me, she looked heartbreakingly beautiful. Not because of the way the light caught her skin or the way her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but because of everything she’d just survived.She looked like a painting on the edge of ruin—fragile, sacred, still standing.And all I wanted to do was take care of her.Wrap her in something warmer. Feed her something real. Let her know she was safe, really safe, and that I wasn’t going anywhere.Then she said, softly, “It was your mother… wasn’t it?”My throat tightened. I’d hoped she wouldn’t ask.I didn’t want to lie to her.So I just nodded.She didn’t press. Thank God. I reached over and gently set the now-empty mug on the bedsid

Celeste’s POVThe minty sting of toothpaste lingered on my tongue as I bent over the sink, cupping cold water in my hands. I splashed it on my face—once, then again, and again—as if I could wash away the confusion tangled in my chest.Last night.The images played on loop in my head, like a reel I couldn’t shut off. Damien’s arms around me. His lips on mine. The heat of his body pressed so close to mine that I forgot everything else—the fear, the pain, the shame. For one reckless, unguarded night… I gave in.And I hated that part of me.I braced my hands on the marble counter, trying to steady my breath. I should’ve known better. Should’ve drawn the line. But I had been at my most vulnerable. I was rattled and exhausted, and he was right there, offering me comfort and… affection. A bitter laugh formed in my throat, but I bit it back. I was tired of crying. Tired of needing to be saved.Why was it always him? Why was he always the one there when the world turned its ugliest face towa

Celeste’s POVA few days had passed, but I still felt like a shadow of myself.Even in daylight, with people all around, my pulse stayed high, my eyes darting at the slightest movement. I hated it. Hated the way fear had rewired my instincts—how I found myself scanning corners, doorways, mirrors.Today wasn’t any different.The café across my apartment complex was filled with clinking mugs and soft chatter, but it did nothing to calm me. I chose a seat with my back to the wall and a clear view of the door. I didn’t even realize I’d done it until Harper slid into the seat across from me and gave me a look.“You okay?” she asked gently.I nodded, then shook my head. “Not really.”Harper didn’t press. She just reached out and held my hand. It grounded me for a moment.“I still can’t believe that psychotic bitch is alive,” she muttered under her breath, but her tone was all fury. “And what she planned to do to you—Celeste, I swear, if I ever see her—”“I know.” I squeezed her hand. “It’s

Celeste’s POV“Hello?” I called out again, my voice thinner now, brittle at the edges.Harper stiffened beside me. We both froze as another creak echoed from the back hallway.I could feel my pulse thudding behind my ears. My grip tightened on my phone, thumb hovering near the emergency call button. I was just about to whisper for Harper to stay behind when a voice called out—“Celeste? It’s me.”I blinked. “Michael?”A moment later, he appeared from the back, hands raised in sheepish apology. Behind him came a familiar man in a light gray blazer and loafers—Mr. Healy, the buyer who had already signed the deal for the shop. He smiled in that pleasant, unbothered way older businessmen did, even while standing in the middle of half-packed boxes and old mannequins.“Apologies,” he said warmly. “Michael mentioned you might still be here and thought it would be alright to take another look before we begin renovations.”“You scared the hell out of us,” Harper muttered under her breath.Mich

Damien’s POVThe night had teeth.It bit at the windows of my study, gnawing with every gust of wind that rattled the panes. But it wasn’t the cold that kept me anchored to the leather chair behind my desk. It was something far more unnerving—uncertainty. And it was spreading like poison through every corner of my mind.I stared at my phone. The screen lit up with a message:[“He’s out again. Same path. Same time.” -Calloway]Mr. Calloway had been our family gardener since I was a boy. The old man looked like the wind could blow him over, but he was sharper than any of the guards. Loyal. Observant. Quiet as a shadow. He’d seen things no one else was supposed to.And now he was watching Levi for me.I tapped a reply: [“Anyone with him?”]Seconds passed. Then:[“Dark sedan. Same one as last week. Driver waits around the bend.”]“Damn,” I muttered, my brows furrowing. Levi had been slipping through the estate's blind spots. Past the perimeter our security team insisted was tight. He’d fo