Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday’s news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace. But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge. A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart. Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister’s perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn’t come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn. But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what’s left? A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again? She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she’ll rule alone… or let someone melt the ice in her heart.
View MoreSTEFAN'S POINT OF VIEWThe bourbon burned down my throat, a welcome fire against the cold emptiness spreading through my chest. I signaled the bartender for another. My fourth? Fifth? I'd lost count hours ago."You sure about that, buddy?" he asked, eyeing the empty glasses."Just pour the damn drink," I growled.The alcohol couldn't drown the words that had haunted me all day: Martin Greene reading Camille's will, her final message cutting through me like a blade.*"To my former husband, Stefan Rodriguez, I return the engagement ring that belonged to his grandmother, with the hope that next time he gives it, it will be with honesty and true devotion."*The ring sat heavy in my pocket, retrieved from the safety deposit box this morning. Grandmother Rosa's ring. Three generations of Rodriguez women had worn it before I'd placed it on Camille's finger, promising forever with words that turned to ash in my mouth.Thirty million dollars and the Cedar Hill estate. All of it to charity. Not
ROSE'S POINT OF VIEWI slammed my apartment door so hard the walls shook. The sound echoed through the empty space, matching the thunder in my heart. My hands shook as I poured myself a drink, spilling expensive whiskey on the marble counter."Damn you, Camille," I whispered, then screamed it: "DAMN YOU!"The crystal glass flew from my hand, shattering against the wall in a spray of amber liquid and broken dreams. Thirty million dollars. The Cedar Hill estate. All of it gone to those worthless foster kids.My legs gave out and I slid to the kitchen floor, surrounded by the mess I'd made. Just like my life - everything perfect on the surface, chaos underneath. And now Camille, sweet, stupid Camille, had managed to ruin everything even from the grave."You think you're so clever, don't you?" I spoke to the empty air, imagining her ghost watching me fall apart. "Little Miss Perfect with her secret fortune. Did you laugh about it? Did you enjoy knowing you had something I didn't?"I grabb
ROSE'S POINT OF VIEWThe law office of Berkman, Wade, and Associates smelled of leather, money, and superiority. I adjusted my black dress and studied the others in the conference room. Mom dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. Dad stared blankly at the polished table. Stefan sat apart from us, face drawn and pale.All of us performing our assigned roles. The grieving family. The heartbroken ex-husband. A perfect tableau of loss.And why wouldn't we? Camille was dead. I knew that for certain. The men I'd hired hadn't just scared her as originally planned, they'd gone further, forcing her car off that bridge, watching it sink into the dark water. They'd called me afterward, panic in their voices. I'd paid them extra for their silence, then cut all contact.Martin Greene entered, carrying a leather portfolio. Dad's longtime lawyer looked appropriately grave as he took a seat."Thank you all for coming," he said. "With the court having legally declared Camille deceased in a
Chapter 23CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEWThe scream ripped from my throat before I was fully awake, my body jackknifing upright in bed. Sweat soaked through my silk nightgown, heart hammering against my ribs like it might break through. For a moment, I didn't know where I was, lost in the space between nightmare and reality.Rose's face, smiling as I drowned. Stefan watching from the shore, doing nothing. Their fingers intertwined as they witnessed my death, as casual as if they were watching a sunset."Ms. Kane?" A knock at my bedroom door. "Do you need assistance?"The night guard. New guy. Torres or Torrez. I couldn't remember his name. Victoria rotated security personnel regularly, another layer of protection in her perfectly orchestrated world."I'm fine," I called back, voice steadier than I felt. "Just a dream.""Yes, ma'am. Dr. Reed has been notified as per protocol."Of course she had. Everything in Victoria's mansion was monitored, measured, reported. Privacy was a luxury I'd surr
Chapter 22ROSE'S POINT OF VIEWThe shoe sat on Detective Ramirez's desk between us. A woman's size seven pump, once black, now gray-green from three months underwater. The heel had broken off, but the designer's red sole remained visible. Louboutin. Unmistakably Camille's."Is this your sister's shoe, Ms. Lewis?" Detective Ramirez asked, his tired eyes watching my reaction carefully.I reached for it with trembling fingers, a calculated tremor I'd practiced thatmorning. "Yes," I whispered, voice breaking on cue. "She wore these the last time I saw her. A gift from our parents for her birthday."The lie slid out smoothly. In truth, I'd given Camille those shoes when she landed her first job, playing the generous big sister while privately mocking her pathetic excitement over my hand-me-downs."Does seeing this personal item bring up any new thoughts about your sister's state of mind before her disappearance?"An interesting question. Not "accident" or "drowning," but "disappearance."
Chapter 21Camille's point of view Victoria's gaze sharpened. "Yes. Every lesson, every challenge, every seemingly excessive demand, they all serve that purpose. To make you stronger than Sophia was. More prepared for the dangers wealth and power attract.""And to make me capable of the revenge you've planned.""That too," she acknowledged. "The people who hurt you must pay for what they've done. But beyond revenge lies something more important, your future. What you'll build after justice is served."I considered her words, understanding for the first time that Victoria's vision extended beyond my usefulness as an instrument of revenge. She was investing in me for reasons beyond my resemblance to Sophia or my vendetta against Rose."I still shouldn't have come in here without permission," I said after a moment. "This space is sacred to you. I violated that."Victoria sighed, tension visibly leaving her shoulders. "Perhaps it was inevitable. Perhaps it was even necessary." She turned
Chapter 20Camille's point of view The voice behind me sent the frame tumbling from my hands. It hit the carpet with a muffled thud as I spun around.Victoria stood in the doorway, her expression a storm of fury and pain. Her usually perfect appearance was disheveled, clothes wrinkled from travel, hair slightly mussed, as if she'd rushed home unexpectedly."I....I thought you were in Tokyo," I stammered, heart hammering against my ribs."Flight canceled due to mechanical issues." Her eyes swept the room, cataloging any disturbance I might have caused. "You didn't answer my question."I could have lied. Could have claimed I got lost, accidentally found the key, had innocent reasons for snooping. But something in Victoria's face, the raw wound exposed beneath her anger, demanded honesty."I was curious," I admitted, bending to retrieve the fallen photo frame. "About the locked wing. About why it was off-limits.""So you invaded my privacy. Searched my office for the key. Entered a spac
Chapter 19CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEWFour months into my new life as Camille Kane, I finally had a day to myself. No combat training with Jason. No business lessons. No public appearances or meetings with Victoria's corporate associates. Just twenty-four hours of unscheduled time stretching before me like an unexpected gift.I'd almost forgotten what freedom felt like.The morning sun streamed through my bedroom windows as I lingered over breakfast on my private balcony. Below, gardeners tended the immaculate grounds of Victoria's estate, a sprawling property that occupied thirty acres of prime real estate just outside Manhattan. Despite living here for months, I'd seen only a fraction of it, my daily routine too packed with lessons and training to allow exploration.But not today.I dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, clothes I rarely wore now that my wardrobe consisted primarily of designer business attire and formal wear. My reflection in the mirror still startled me sometimes,
Chapter 18Rose point in viewBy evening, I was exhausted from maintaining the perfect balance of grieving sister and focused businesswoman. My driver took me to my parents' house for our weekly family dinner, a tradition I'd insisted on continuing "to help us heal together."In reality, these dinners served to monitor my parents, manage the family narrative, and remind everyone of my central role in holding things together post-tragedy. Tonight, however, I dreaded facing Mom's suspicious eyes.The house looked the same as always, manicured lawn, gleaming windows, tasteful luxury evident in every detail. The home I'd been brought to fourteen years ago, plucked from the foster system into privilege. The home where I'd systematically established my dominance over every aspect of family life.Helen, the housekeeper, opened the door before I could ring the bell. "They're in the sitting room, Miss Rose. Your mother's had... a difficult day." Mom was drinking again. Perfect. An inebriated
Chapter 1CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW Three years. One thousand and ninety-five days of trying to be the perfect wife, and this was my reward divorce papers on our anniversary.I stared at Stefan's perfect signature on the last page, the ink still fresh. He must have signed them this morning, probably right after I'd left that stupid handmade card on his desk. The one I'd spent hours making, like a fool who still believed in fairy tales.The anniversary card I made for my husband Stefan still sat on the kitchen counter, untouched. Three years of marriage summed up in a handmade gesture he couldn't even bother to open. I'd spent hours on it last night, writing words I thought mattered.My coffee had gone cold. Funny how you notice small things when your world is falling apart."Sign here. And here." Stefan's voice was distant, businesslike. He'd laid out the divorce papers like contracts at one of his meetings, sticky tabs marking each signature line. "The highlighted sections need initia...
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