All Chapters of A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Chapter 361 - Chapter 370

Alain’s POVGenevieve hadn’t been gone long… but she was gone.I dragged a hand over my face, cursing under my breath. “Unbelievable.”I’d actually thought, for a moment, that maybe the hell she’d been through had changed her. Softened her edges. Woken something human in her.But sneaking out in the middle of the night?This was the Genevieve I knew. The one who survived by running, manipulating, disappearing before the consequences caught up.Henri stepped quietly into the room. “She hasn’t come back, yes?”“No,” I snapped. “She’s gone. Still… gone.”He sighed, leaning on the wooden frame of the doorway. “Sit, Alain.”“I can’t sit,” I muttered, pacing. “I should’ve expected this. I should’ve known she wouldn’t stay. I’m an idiot for even—”“You are not an idiot.” Henri’s voice was firm. “You are kind. That is different.”I let out a bitter laugh. “Kind? I saved a criminal. I saved someone who could hurt people again. Someone who—”“Someone who was being beaten to death,” Henri cut in

Celeste’s POVAuntie Eleanor reached for the photo with trembling fingers, tracing the outlines of the clean white walls, the new windows, the blooming courtyard. Rosehill—reborn. Not haunted. Not broken. Not forgotten.“It’s… it’s real?” she whispered, voice cracking.I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Yes. It’s real. It’s ours. Damien… he rebuilt it. For us.”Tears spilled down her cheeks—soft, grateful tears that made something inside me unravel completely.“I never thought…” She pressed a hand to her heart. “Never, in all my dreams… that someone would give this back to us.”I hugged her, burying my face against her shoulder as tears blurred my vision. “It’s because of you. You kept the heart of Rosehill alive. Damien just… gave it a body again.”She laughed through her tears, shaking her head. “No, dear. He did it because of you.”My heart squeezed. Hard.After a while, I stepped out onto the terrace, the early sun warm on my skin, and dialed his number before I could ov

Michael’s POVWater rushed across the street in swift, swirling streams, pooling at the café entrance. The blue awning thrashed in the wind like it was barely hanging on. Inside, lights flickered against fogged-up windows.I slammed the car door and splashed toward the entrance—ankle-deep water soaking straight through my shoes.“Colette!” I shouted over the storm.The door burst open and Colette appeared, drenched, hair stuck to her cheeks, clutching a broom like she intended to fight the ocean itself.“Michael!” she gasped. “Why on earth are you here?!”Inside, two staff members were sweeping water toward the back, their faces tight with panic. Another stood on a chair, trying to unplug appliances before the water reached the outlets.Colette rushed toward me, nearly slipping. “The drainage outside clogged—water’s overflowing into the café. If it reaches the ovens or fridges, we lose everything.”Her voice wavered. Just barely.“I’m here to help,” I said, stepping inside without hes

Michael’s POVBy the time the last of the floodwater was pushed out and the floors no longer reflected the ceiling lights like a sad indoor lake, the storm had quieted to nothing more than a soft drizzle.The café was a mess—chairs stacked haphazardly, towels everywhere, a mop graveyard in the corner—but Colette… she was smiling. A real one. The kind that made her eyes glow again.Her staff—exhausted but relieved—brought over mugs of steaming coffee for everyone. The scent of roasted beans wrapped around us, grounding, warm.I accepted mine and took a long sip. “Well,” I muttered, looking around the wrecked café, “gourmet coffee in the middle of a disaster zone while it’s still raining outside.”I raised my mug. “Just perfect.”Colette snorted, bumping my shoulder lightly with hers. “Right? This is exactly the ambiance I was going for. Very… post-apocalyptic chic.”I grinned. “I’m giving it a five-star review.”She rolled her eyes but laughed, finally relaxing into the chair beside m

Celeste’s POVColette’s café looked like itself again—whole, glowing, alive.Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, catching on polished wood and clean glass, turning everything honey-bright. The smell of fresh coffee and citrus pastries wrapped around me like a familiar embrace. Harper and I had dropped by here because I wanted to check on Colette. And she said she was fine coming along with me. I stirred my latte slowly, watching the foam swirl. “So,” I said casually, glancing at her over the rim. “You and Michael are good now, huh?”Harper snorted. “Define good.”“Oh please,” I grinned. “You’re glowing.”She groaned and leaned back in her chair. “Okay, fine. Yes. We’re good.” Then she shrugged, softer. “I mean—we’re not magically best friends with everyone in his life or anything. But…” She hesitated, then sighed. “I think the tension’s gone. At least the ugly kind.”I raised an eyebrow. “Including with Colette?”“That,” Harper said frankly, “is a work in progress.” She took