All Chapters of A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Chapter 191 - Chapter 200

Damien’s POVThe moment the cab pulled up to my house, I leaned in through the open window and asked the driver if he had a dash cam. He looked at me like I’d asked if his steering wheel was detachable.“Of course, sir. Company policy.”Lucky day.I exhaled, tension easing just a fraction. “Do you have access to the footage from earlier?”He nodded. “You’ll need to call the hotline, but I can give you my ID number so they can match the trip.”“Perfect.” I typed his name and plate number into my phone and handed him a generous tip before he pulled away.Once inside, I fired off a message to Darrow:[Dash cam footage from the cab I took earlier might have captured something. Sending driver info. Cross-check it. Find out who the hell set that up.]Next, I headed straight to the shower. Scalding water. No thoughts. Just steam.Let it all melt off.When I stepped out, towel slung low around my hips, I headed straight for the wine shelf. Poured myself a glass of something dry and sharp—cou

Celeste’s POV“You know this is dangerous for us, right?” Harper whispered as we stepped into the warmly lit courtyard of the art fair. “Too many beautiful things. Zero self-control.”I laughed. “We’ll just set a limit.”“Sure. And then break it ten minutes in.”The village square was lit up like something out of a dream—lanterns floating on strings between cobblestone buildings, a soft breeze carrying the scent of lavender and woodsmoke. Locals and tourists moved from booth to booth, sipping on wine, laughing, pausing to admire sculptures, watercolor portraits, and handcrafted jewelry. A live cellist played near the corner, his melancholic music adding a tender note to the evening air.We were in the heart of the French countryside, and it felt like a scene I’d once only seen in books—far away from press scandals, boardroom explosions, and heartbreaking stares.“I told you this was going to be worth the drive,” I said, nudging her.Harper let out a breath. “You were right. I already

Celeste’s POVIt was strange, this feeling—like the beginning of something warm and easy. Not necessarily anything romantic. Alain had a calming presence, like the breeze here in the countryside—gentle, quiet, content to let things unfold.And I liked it.Which made me uneasy.As we wandered through the rows of food booths, laughter rising and falling between bites of flaky tarts and crispy pommes frites, I felt it again—that pull. Like maybe the universe was nudging me toward something new.But the guilt wouldn’t go away.No matter how much I tried to lean into the moment, there was a sliver of heaviness pressing on my ribs.Maybe it was because, in truth, I still didn’t know where things stood with Theo.Since I arrived in France, he hadn’t called, hadn’t texted beyond the occasional polite check-in. There were no “I miss you” messages. No updates about when he might follow. No hints of a plan.He hadn’t acted like a boyfriend at all.And sometimes I wondered—if he had no intention

Damien’s POVThe Black Reapers had gone silent.No threats. No warnings. No moves.And that worried me more than any bullet.Still, it gave me time.Time to fix what the world thought was already broken.For the next ten days, I did what I knew best—work. I buried myself in restructuring, rebranding, and putting out fires with the media. I sat in back-to-back meetings with PR and legal, twisting every narrative, repackaging every ugly story. We leaned on our clean divisions too and promoted those even more. I made sure to show up where cameras were. Donated to the right causes. Got featured in enough strategic “CEO comeback” articles to make the public start questioning if maybe, just maybe, I had been set up.It wasn’t redemption.It was a tactical distraction.My father, in a rare moment of cooperation, had finally agreed to leash the damn wolf.“Levi will be... unavailable for a while,” he’d said without any emotion, swirling bourbon in his glass. “Consider it my gift to you. For

Celeste’s POVI couldn’t stop crying.Hot, relentless tears blurred Auntie Eleanor’s face as I bent over her, clutching her warm hand as gently as if it were spun glass.“Auntie,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “It’s really you. You’re awake. Oh my God… you’re awake.”Her hazel eyes—half-lidded and hazy—fluttered toward me. A faint, tremorous squeeze answered the desperate pressure of my fingers. It was barely there, but it was everything.“I’ve missed you so much,” I choked out, leaning closer until my forehead nearly touched hers. “We’re all here. We love you. You’re safe.”The doctor stepped forward, soft-spoken but brisk. “Let’s check a few things, Madame Eleanor. Can you hear me? Blink once for yes.”Auntie Eleanor’s lashes trembled, then lowered in a slow, deliberate blink.“Good,” the doctor said, eyes flicking to his chart. “Do you know where you are? Blink once for yes, twice for no.”A pause. Two blinks.“That’s all right,” he murmured encouragingly. “Do you feel any pain?