All Chapters of A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Chapter 201 - Chapter 210

Damien’s POVSmile. Shake hands. Pretend you care.That was the silent mantra running through my head as another flashbulb burst in my peripheral vision.I shifted the champagne flute from one hand to the other and curved my mouth into the kind of polite grin that said I’m delighted to be here—when in reality I was counting the minutes until I could get the hell out.My mother’s charity gala gleamed around me in expensive fragments: polished marble floors, towering sculptures made of fractured glass, oil paintings with brushstrokes priced higher than some condos.The invitation had promised “An Evening of Global Renewal,” the launch of her new Aurora Foundation—a name meant to conjure dawn and second chances. Whatever that was supposed to mean.Isadora Vaughn floated through the crowd in a silver silk gown, radiant and—much to my surprise—animated.She’d spent a week or so sulking behind closed doors, but now she was laughing with donors, gesturing toward the auction tables like she’

Celeste’s POVThe moonlight pooled across the wooden floor, pale and cold, a quiet counterpoint to the restless warmth of the man beside me.Theo shifted again, the mattress dipping under his weight. His arm slid across my waist, fingers tracing the hem of my shirt in a slow, coaxing path.“Celeste,” he murmured, his breath warm against my neck. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you…”I kept my eyes on the ceiling, willing my body to stay still. My heart thudded in an anxious rhythm I couldn’t calm.He began kissing my neck. Rather than arousing me, I began to feel trapped. He’s been trying to seduce me a few times now, ever since he’d arrived. But I was never in the mood. Even when we were dining out and trying to catch up, it felt foreign. It didn’t feel like us anymore. I don’t know what’s happened to us. Even our friendship seemed to have dwindled. He kissed my ear, then moved to my lips. When his hand skimmed lower, I caught his wrist gently but firmly.“I’m sleepy,” I wh

Damien’s POVLyon smelled of wet stone and old secrets.By the time my jet touched down, night had already settled over the city, pooling in the crooked alleys and on the slick cobblestones like black ink.I went straight to a safe house tucked behind an unmarked steel door in the Croix-Rousse district, where two of our family mafia’s old contacts were waiting.René and Baptiste looked like any pair of aging café owners—wrinkled jackets, nicotine fingers—but the men behind those eyes had once moved guns across three borders without leaving a single trace.If Genevieve had stirred the underworld in Lyon, these two would know.René poured me a glass of something that burned like gasoline and got to the point. “She was here,” he said in French-accented English. “Three weeks ago. Not long.”Baptiste slid a slim folder across the scarred table. Inside were grainy surveillance stills from a private art salon and a few shaky phone photos—Genevieve in a dark coat, hood low, face half-turned.

Damien’s POVI saw him pull the trigger. “Fuck!” I dove sideways, the bullet splintering stone where my head had been a second ago. My own gun was already in my hand, instinct sharpening every nerve. I fired back, the shot echoing through the waking street.Screams erupted as shutters slammed shut overhead, pedestrians scattering. But Nico was already moving, slipping between the chaos with practiced ease.I raised my gun again—only to lose my line of sight as a delivery truck screeched across the intersection, horn blaring. By the time it passed, the alley ahead was empty.Damn.Fuck.I sprinted forward, scanning every doorway, every shadow. Nothing. Just the fading echo of footsteps swallowed by the labyrinth of Marseille.Suddenly, the wail of police sirens cut through the street, closing in fast.“Shit.”The last thing I needed was to be cornered in Marseille with a smoking gun in my hand. I shoved the weapon back into my jacket and veered down a side alley, heart still hammering

Harper’s POVBy the time I got home, my arms were aching from hauling shopping bags and my shoes felt like lead. Provence might have been breathtaking, but errands here were no less exhausting than anywhere else—groceries from the market, a stop at the post office, and one long detour to pick up supplies Celeste had requested.The night air was cool when I slipped through the gate, the garden glowing under the silver wash of moonlight. I expected to find everything still and quiet, but then I saw my best friend. She sat on the low stone bench, her posture taut, eyes fixed on the stars as if they held answers. The sight of her made my steps quicken. “Hey there—I’m back!” I called cheerfully, setting the bags down with a thud. “What did I miss?”Celeste turned, and the groan that escaped her was heavy enough to erase my good mood in an instant.“Oh, Harper… you won’t believe what just happened.”Alarm surged through me, and I hurried to her side, crouching to meet her eyes. “What? Are