Lahat ng Kabanata ng A Ruthless Revenge: the Billionaire's Ex Wife Is Back: Kabanata 421 - Kabanata 430

Celeste’s POV“Tell me again why the goat magnet was necessary,” I said as we stepped back inside the shop.“Because,” Damien replied solemnly, closing the door behind us, “one day you’ll open your fridge, see it, and remember that you survived this phase of your life with impeccable taste.”I snorted. “Impeccable taste is not shaped like a goat.”The shop greeted us with a hush that felt almost reverent. The lights were dimmed, soft pools of gold reflecting off freshly cleaned floors. Outside, through the glass, I could still make out the silhouettes of the bodyguards, relaxed but alert.Peaceful.Almost suspiciously so.“I like it quiet like this,” I murmured, setting my bag down. “It feels like the space is… breathing.”Damien smiled. “It’s yours. It’s allowed to breathe.”We were still riding the warmth of the afternoon—the hilltop town, the laughter, the almosts and not-quites that had wrapped themselves around my chest and stayed there. I felt lighter than I had in days. Then I

Nico’s POVHarry Jones stood near the edge of the crowd, posture relaxed, hands loosely clasped behind his back as if he were taking in a pleasant afternoon instead of stepping onto ground that clearly wasn’t meant for him. He wore a light jacket, neutral colors, nothing flashy. The kind of man who knew how to blend in—and still command attention.Before I could move, Martha stormed past me.Her reaction was immediate and visceral, like a wire pulled too tight finally snapping.“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, planting herself directly in front of him. Her voice was loud enough to demonstrate her fury, but luckily, with all the noise around, it didn’t draw attention. Harry didn’t flinch.He looked at her calmly, almost mildly, and even had the nerve to chuckle. “I’m here to enjoy the day,” he said evenly. “Like everyone else.”Martha let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh. “Don’t lie to me. I told you to stay away from us. From my daughter. From this place.”“I remembe

Genevieve’s POVDays passed.I went to work. I shelved books. I smiled when spoken to. I slept in short, fractured stretches and woke with the same burden pressing on my chest every morning.But I didn’t recover.Well, okay. That was an understatement. Because in reality, I was a wreck. Guilt clung to me like a second skin—itchy, inescapable, settling deeper every time I tried to shake it off. Shame followed close behind, coiling into my bones in a way I had never known before. I had lived with regret. I had lived with anger. I had even lived with cruelty.This was different.Knowing that the parents I had once rejected—because they were poor—had never stopped looking for me shattered something inside me. They had lost everything in the search. Every resource. Every comfort. And my siblings had grown up carrying that loss, living a life shaped by the absence I left behind.The pain lodged in my chest, sharp and suffocating, unlike anything I had ever felt.I didn’t know how to exist

Harper’s POVIt started as a thought I tried to brush away.Late. Just… late.I stood in the bathroom staring at my reflection, fingers gripping the edge of the sink a little too tightly. The house was very quiet—afternoon light slanting through the window like it was minding its own business while my heart continued to race. “It’s nothing,” I told myself out loud. My voice sounded normal. Convincing. “Travel. Stress. Different food. A hundred reasons.”I laughed weakly. “Relax.”But the calendar in my head refused to cooperate.Late enough that curiosity had turned into dread.The pharmacy trip was a blur. I don’t even remember paying. I remember the cashier wishing me a nice day and me nodding absent-mindedly. Back in the bathroom, I locked the door.Just in case.“This is ridiculous,” I muttered, ripping open the box with shaking fingers. “You’re being dramatic.”The test felt heavier than it should have in my hand.I sat on the edge of the tub, staring at it like it might bite m

Celeste’s POVThe shop felt even more alive once people were inside it.It was a soft launch by design—no banners, no speeches, no spectacle—but the warmth settled into the space almost immediately, carried in by familiar voices and excited conversations. My mother stood near the first display rack, fingers brushing over the fabric with a reverence that made my chest tighten. She didn’t say much, just nodded to herself, pride radiating from her in a way that was quiet and unwavering.My father wasn’t there. He was in the U.S., attending to things he insisted were temporary but necessary. But he’d sent me a message of congratulations earlier, and that was enough for me. Michael lingered near the back of the shop, watchful as ever, his presence steady without being intrusive. Auntie Eleanor moved slowly through the space, taking her time with each piece, her fingers brushing fabric as if she were afraid to rush the moment, her hand occasionally coming to rest against her chest.“This