Revenge and the Harem Chef’s Miracle System

The Collapse

The man beside her glanced up, his expression one of mild curiosity before he raised an eyebrow with a condescending look. “Who is he, ma chérie?”

Celeste hesitated, but Louis spoke first. “I’m her husband.”

Silence blanketed their table. A few nearby guests began to take notice.

Celeste looked panicked, but the man—Alexandre—only smirked. “Oh? You’re her husband? My apologies, I didn’t realize. From the way she’s acting, I assumed she was already a free woman.”

Louis felt his blood boil. “Don’t play games with me.”

Celeste stood up quickly, trying to grab his hand. “Louis, don’t cause a scene—”

But it was too late. Alexandre rose with an infuriating calm, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Listen, Monsieur Chef. If you can’t provide her the life she deserves, you should know when to step aside.”

Louis glared at him. He could break Alexandre’s face right now. But in front of so many guests, he couldn’t afford to be reckless.

Before he could respond, Celeste’s voice rang out, cold and cutting.

“You shouldn’t have come here, Louis.”

It was an invisible slap to his heart.

In a low voice, he asked, “So this is the end, Celeste?”

Celeste bit her lip, then looked away. But eventually, she lifted her gaze with firm resolve. “Yes.”

Louis felt his world collapse.

But he wouldn’t show weakness in front of them.

Taking a deep breath, he said, “Fine. You’ll regret this.”

Then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

The cold night air bit at Louis’s skin as he stepped out of Étoile Royale. Paris, with all its beauty, now felt suffocating. The usually refreshing night air felt heavy in his chest. Every step he took felt like walking on shards of glass—sharp, painful, leaving invisible wounds.

The city streets glittered with lights, but all he could see was Celeste’s face. The woman he loved. The wife who had sworn to stay by his side, in good times and bad.

Now, she was with another man.

Louis stopped on the sidewalk, tilting his head up to stare at the night sky. His fists clenched so tightly that his nails nearly broke the skin. He wanted to scream, but the sound was trapped in his throat.

The ringing of his phone in his jacket pocket jolted him. With quick movements, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen.

Lucas Moreau

His younger brother.

Louis took a deep breath, trying to steady his emotions before answering.

"Hello?"

"Louis, where are you?" Lucas’s voice was filled with concern. "I just got back from your place. Celeste isn’t there. But…"

Lucas hesitated.

"But what?" Louis’s tone came out harsher than he intended.

Lucas took a breath. "Your house is empty, Louis. All of Celeste’s things are gone. Her clothes, her jewelry, even your wedding photos."

Louis’s world crumbled.

His hands clenched at his sides, his jaw tightening. This wasn’t just an ordinary affair. Celeste had planned everything.

"When did she leave?" he asked, his voice flat.

Lucas hesitated before answering. "I’m not sure, but the neighbors said a luxury car picked her up this afternoon."

Louis let out a bitter laugh. So, Celeste hadn’t just cheated. She had decided to leave him long ago.

"And, Louis…" Lucas’s voice dropped, as if afraid of hurting him further. "She took Mathéo with her."

Louis felt his blood freeze.

Mathéo. His nine-month-old son.

The baby who fell asleep in his arms every night. Who smiled brightly every morning when he saw his father’s face.

Celeste hadn’t just left. She had taken their child.

Something inside Louis shattered.

Le Ciel de Paris was nearly empty when Louis returned. He walked through the kitchen with heavy steps, shrugged off his jacket, and tossed it onto a chair.

Everyone had gone home except for Vincent. The man sat at the supervisor’s table with a glass of wine in hand. He smirked when he saw Louis.

"So, how was Étoile Royale? Did you impress them?" he asked mockingly.

Louis didn’t answer. He simply removed his apron and hung it on the wall.

Vincent raised an eyebrow. "You look like someone who just lost something valuable."

Louis remained silent.

Vincent chuckled and stood up. "I don’t care what happens outside this restaurant, Moreau. But if your personal problems start affecting your work, you know what I’ll do."

Louis lifted his gaze, his eyes cold. "I won’t let that happen."

Vincent smirked. "Good. Because if you can’t control your emotions in this kitchen, I’ll make sure you never work anywhere in Paris."

Louis held his gaze for a long moment before turning and walking away.

But deep inside, he knew—this was no longer about his job. This was about something far greater.

This was about reclaiming his life.

And, most importantly, about getting his son back.

The Paris sky was beginning to lighten by the time Louis arrived at the small apartment he once called home.

When he opened the door, emptiness greeted him.

No Celeste’s dresses hanging in the closet. No trace of her familiar perfume. No soft sounds of Mathéo greeting him when he came home late at night.

Everything was gone.

Louis walked into the bedroom. Their bed was still there, but it felt vacant. He sat on the edge, staring blankly ahead.

Every corner of this room reminded him of Celeste. Of the nights they spent dreaming together. Of the mornings they laughed over little things.

And now, all of it was just a bitter memory.

He reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his phone, and typed a message.

"Where is Mathéo?"

No response.

He waited a few minutes, then tried calling.

The phone rang. Once. Twice.

Then, the call was declined.

Louis stared at the screen before throwing his phone onto the bed.