All Chapters of A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Chapter 311 - Chapter 320

Genevieve’s POVI woke to the sound of rain.For a moment, I didn’t move. My body remembered before my mind did: the sting on my cheek, the bruising grip on my arm, the shock of Lucien’s voice splitting the calm.You belong here until you’re strong.I exhaled slowly, quietly, and opened my eyes.Afternoon light filtered weakly through the small window, pale and cold. The blanket was tucked around me in a way that would have felt comforting if I didn’t know who had placed it there.Well, probably Lucien. I shuddered. The memory of his outburst flashed back in my mind. A monster wearing a man’s skin.I pushed myself upright carefully, every muscle aching. My shoulder throbbed where the bullet wound was still healing, but the pain no longer clouded my mind.Good. I needed clarity.My gaze drifted around the cabin — slow, deliberate. Counting doors. Windows. Distances. Weak spots. Possible weapons. The radio panel he lied about. The shelves. The bolted latch.Escape routes. Probably just

Michael’s POVI stood there in the quiet kitchen, still tasting her lips on mine. She was inches away from me, breathing just as hard, cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide with something that made every cell in my body ignite.I’d kissed people before. I’d dated. I’d thought I knew what desire felt like.But nothing… nothing had ever hit me like this.“Harper…” I whispered, my voice hoarse.She looked up at me, lips parted, as if she was fighting the same battle I was. The passionate kiss we’d just shared was explosive, and I knew that I wanted more. I could feel the desire rising in flames inside me. Still, I held back. I didn’t want to pressure her into anything she didn’t want. But then, she reached for me again, her fingers folding behind my neck and pulling me close to her. Our lips met in another ravenous kiss, filled with greater hunger. Something inside me snapped clean in half. There was no thinking after that.I pulled her into me, kissed her like oxygen was her and everything

Celeste’s POVI had allowed myself to get carried away.For a few hours, I let myself forget everything — the trauma, the fear, the exhaustion, the past. I told myself I just wanted one peaceful, happy day… a moment to breathe and forget all about my problems. I deserved that much after almost dying. Anyone would.So I let myself enjoy Paris with him.I let myself smile.I let myself feel… safe.But then Amaya appeared like a nightmare in high heels, dragging reality behind her like a net.And suddenly I remembered exactly who Damien Vaughn was — or who he had been to me. The ex-husband who had broken me in ways I still hadn’t fully recovered from. The man I’d said goodbye to so many times, only to be pulled back into his orbit again. The person I had promised myself I would never let close enough to hurt me again.Yet here we were. Again.I sat upright in bed, leaning against the headboard, a book open on my lap. I’d been staring at the same page for fifteen minutes. The words kept s

Celeste’s POVBack in the suite, I felt the silence before I even heard it.The door closed softly behind us, sealing the world out, sealing us in. Damien helped me ease onto the couch, then stepped away just enough to give me space but not far enough to truly feel distant. It was the kind of careful distance that made my chest tighten.He moved around the small kitchenette, preparing tea like it was the most natural thing in the world — like we hadn’t just gone through a small emotional war downstairs.“Chamomile?” he asked quietly.I nodded. “Please.”He handed me the mug, and the brush of his fingers against mine sent heat skittering up my arm. I kept my expression blank. Neutral. Pretending I didn’t feel anything was easier than acknowledging the opposite.We sat beside each other — close but not touching — steam rising between us. Each sip felt like a countdown. To what, I wasn’t sure.“How’s your leg?” he finally asked.“It’s fine,” I murmured, even though it wasn’t. Even though

Alain’s POVI began to stir awake. The first thing I saw was the ceiling made of sun-bleached wood. For a moment, I didn’t know where the hell I was.Then the ache in my ribs reminded me. The burn on my shoulder. The taste of seawater that still clung to the back of my throat.Henri’s hut in some fishing village on an island. The memories came in pieces, jagged and waterlogged.I remembered the waves tossing me like a rag doll, the rocks scraping my side, the cold dragging me under. Then—hands. Rough, strong hands. Henri’s voice shouting over the surf. Him pulling me out of a tangle of seaweed and broken rope, muttering curses in a dialect I barely understood as he hauled me onto the sand.I’d drifted in and out for hours. And through the haze, I remembered croaking one word over and over:“Help… help…”And then, at some point— Her name had slipped out too.“Celeste…”Even half-conscious, lungs burning, I’d thought of her.Henri had propped me up, forced warm broth between my lips