All Chapters of A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Chapter 261 - Chapter 270

Celeste’s POVMy heart leapt at the sound of his voice. “Darrow—thank God,” I whispered. Relief and dread collided in my chest. “Please tell me—Damien—”“He’s alive,” Darrow said, cutting gently across my panic. “I heard you and your brother have been trying to reach me.”Michael straightened beside me, his spoon still in his hand, forgotten midair.“How is he?” I asked, gripping the phone tighter than I meant to.“He’s banged up,” Darrow replied. “Some burns, minor shrapnel injuries—but nothing life-threatening. He’s lucky.”I shut my eyes. The breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding came out shaky. “Thank God,” I whispered.“He didn’t rest long, though,” Darrow continued, the faintest hint of exasperation in his tone. “He insisted on continuing the mission. Said there was no time to waste. They’ve got Genevieve in custody now. She’ll be turned over to Interpol soon.”For a second, the world stilled. I could almost feel my pulse slow, the air shift—like the universe had finally exh

Celeste’s POVI rushed down the stairs, my heart pounding like crazy, wondering what had happened to Auntie Eleanor. But then, I froze at the sight before me.Aunt Eleanor stood by the stove, sunlight spilling over her shoulders, stirring something in a pan while Elise the housekeeper sliced fruit beside her. The smell of coffee and butter filled the air. For a second, my brain refused to catch up.Michael and Harper appeared behind me, both looking as stunned as I was. I could practically feel Michael’s tension beside me, his hand still hovering near the phone like he was ready to call for help.Aunt Eleanor turned with a radiant smile, her eyes bright. “Good morning, everyone!” she said, her tone light and cheerful. She had no idea about the panic that had gripped me just a second ago. “I’m making breakfast today. Elise and I are almost done.”I blinked. “Auntie…” My voice faltered. “You’re—”She laughed softly. “Feeling so much better. Honestly, it’s like I woke up and the heavine

Damien’s POVThe compound smelled like disinfectant and diesel — the kind of smell that pretends to be clean and efficient while it masks the ugly things happening behind the walls. It was barely dawn, the sky still a bruise, and the guards walking the perimeter looked as tired and watchful as soldiers waiting for a storm.Jake stayed a step behind me, the way he always did when I wanted to be the first face someone saw. His eyes were flat, coiled. We’d taken one of the private rooms for the night shift; men rotated in and out. The van that had brought her in was in the yard, dark and squared off like a coffin. They’d put her under strict guard. Cameras on every angle. I didn’t need the cameras. I needed her to see me.They led her out in restraints — cuffed and escorted by two hard-faced men. She still had her hair and the careful makeup that made her a better liar; she kept the posture of someone used to an audience. For a second, something almost resembling the old arrogance fla

Genevieve’s POVWhen the van door slid open, the first thing that hit me was the air — humid, briny, alive. Waves crashed somewhere beyond the dunes, and the scent of the sea rolled in like an old friend.I stepped out slowly, boots crunching against the gravel. Morning light burned against the horizon, gold slicing through the haze. The men who’d rescued me — or, more accurately, answered the right price — formed a loose circle. All business. Faces hidden behind masks and mirrored lenses.One of them nodded. “You’re clear now, ma’am.”Damien thought he’d won. Thought he could parade me in front of Interpol like a trophy, chain me down like a monster caught in daylight. But monsters don’t die that easily. I’d always been better at surviving than anyone expected.Freedom once more.A slow grin spread across my face as the cuffs came off — the sharp bite of metal replaced by a dull ache around my wrists. I rubbed them, savoring the sting. It reminded me that I was still here. Still dang

Celeste’s POVThe road tightened into a blur of trees and shadow. The ocean glimmered on one side — too close, too high — while the black sedan behind us refused to die, its headlights cutting through the dust like twin blades.“Faster,” I said, my voice trembling.Alain didn’t answer. His jaw was locked, eyes darting between the rearview mirror and the winding stretch ahead.Then, a flash — another car appeared in the distance, coming toward us from the opposite direction. Sleek. Dark. Controlled.My breath caught. “Alain…”“I see it.” His knuckles whitened on the wheel.The two vehicles closed in like wolves. The one behind roared louder, pushing us faster; the one ahead slowed deliberately, blocking the road.“They’re boxing us in,” I whispered.“Seatbelt,” he barked.My hands fumbled for the buckle just as the rear car slammed into us again. The impact threw me sideways, glass splintering in my hair. The guardrail screamed inches from the door.“Alain!”“I’m trying!” He jerked the