All Chapters of A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Chapter 301 - Chapter 310

Celeste’s POV“Theo, stop,” I said softly, my voice already thin from exhaustion.He stood at the foot of my hospital bed, eyes red, hair a mess, still wearing that look — the one that used to make me believe he’d never hurt me. Now it just made me tired.“Just stay a little longer,” he said, almost pleading. “Let me explain everything properly this time. Please, Celeste. Or at least let me visit you at the estate. We can talk there.”I sighed, forcing myself to look at him. “There’s nothing left to talk about, Theo. I understand enough.”He flinched, and guilt twisted in my stomach for a second before I pushed it away.“It’s time for me to go,” I said. “Thank you for… everything you did to help me. But it’s over.”He shook his head, desperate. “It doesn’t have to be.”A soft knock interrupted us. The nurse peeked in, her smile polite but cautious — like she could feel the storm brewing inside this room. “Miss Lancaster, your discharge papers are ready,” she said. “We’ll bring a wheel

Harper’s POVWhen the call ended, I just sat there at the edge of the couch, phone still in my hand, trying to absorb the words I’d just heard.“She’s safe,” I said softly, almost in disbelief. “Celeste’s safe and well.”Across the living room, Auntie Eleanor looked up from her knitting, her eyes brightening instantly. “Did you say safe?”Michael was already standing near the window, turning toward me. “With Damien?”I nodded, smiling through the wave of emotion threatening to spill over. “Yes. He called just now. They’re in Paris. They’ll be staying there for a night or so, because she’s not well enough yet to ride the helicopter or take a long ride back here.”For a moment, the only sound in the room was the faint crackle of the fireplace. Then Auntie Eleanor exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh, thank the heavens,” she whispered. “I’m just glad she’s alive and not badly injured. My heart’s been heavy since that dreadful night. I can finally breathe again.”Michael cro

Damien’s POVFor one insane, suspended second, all I could see was her— her lips, her breath, her trembling fingers on my chest.I could’ve kissed her. God, I wanted to.But I didn’t.I forced every muscle in my body to move slowly, carefully. My hands slid from her waist to her elbows as I helped her shift off me.“Easy,” I murmured, letting her settle back against the pillows.She avoided my eyes, biting her lip as if mortified. The sight nearly undid me.“I’m okay,” she whispered.“No,” I said quietly, “but you will be.” And I stepped back before the temptation swallowed me whole.I grabbed a spare blanket from the closet and dropped it onto the floor beside the bed.“What are you doing?” Celeste asked.“Sleeping,” I replied. “Down here.”Her brows knit. “Damien—”“It’s fine, Celeste. Don’t worry about me. You can have the bed.”“Are you sure?”“Yes. Sleep well, Celeste. Good night.”She didn’t answer immediately. I heard the soft rustle of sheets as she settled, the quiet sigh she

Celeste’s POVWe had just finished breakfast at a small streetside café tucked along Rue Cler — the kind with pastel umbrellas, tiny tables barely big enough for two plates, and the smell of butter and warm croissants drifting through the air. People walked past us with shopping bags and tiny dogs, the morning light turning the street gold.I sat in my wheelchair, half-finished cappuccino in hand. Damien sat across from me, elbows resting lightly on the table, watching me with the kind of quiet attention that made my chest flutter.“This was a good idea,” I said, leaning back slightly. “I feel so alive! I almost feel… human again.”His lips curved. “You are human. You just forgot how to breathe for a little while.”I rolled my eyes, but it was hard not to smile. “Don’t get poetic. It’s confusing.”“Trust me,” he said, sipping his espresso, “I’m not trying to confuse you.”But the way his eyes lingered on me — soft, warm, almost protective — said otherwise. Or maybe I was the one getti

Damien’s POVAmaya had called me twelve times.Twelve.Her name kept flashing on my screen like a curse I refused to acknowledge. Each time, I swiped the notification away.Nothing — absolutely nothing — was going to ruin this day.Celeste and I had just stepped off the dinner cruise, the soft strains of violins still echoing from the river. The air was cool and smelled faintly of the Seine—water, night blossoms, and old Paris stone.Celeste leaned against her wheelchair slightly as she took in the view one last time. The way the lights reflected in her eyes… I hadn’t seen her look that peaceful in years. Maybe ever.She breathed in slowly, the corners of her lips lifting before she caught herself.I did nothing but watch her for a moment. Silently. Selfishly.Suddenly, she looked at me and smiled. A real one that I knew I didn’t deserve to get from her. But she gave it, anyway. “What are you thinking?” she asked. “Just can’t believe we’re here,” I said honestly. “And just how lucky