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Chapter 4
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2025-03-26 16:57:56Chapter 4
STEFAN'S POINT OF VIEW The scotch burned going down, but I poured another anyway. My third? Fourth? I'd lost count somewhere between signing those divorce papers and watching Camille walk away. Our wedding photo still sat on my desk, mocking me. Camille's genuine smile, my distracted eyes, already looking past her, always looking for Rose. Rose. Even her name felt like betrayal now. My phone lit up with another message from her: "Darling, stop drinking and come over. We should celebrate." Celebrate. Like we hadn't just destroyed someone who loved us. Someone who'd given me three years of devotion I never deserved. The memory hit me like a punch to the gut. --- "Stefan?" Camille's voice was small, uncertain. "Did I do something wrong?" I looked up from my laptop, irritated at the interruption. She stood in the doorway of my home office, holding a plate of something that smelled amazing. "I made that pasta you mentioned. The one with truffles?" Her eyes were hopeful. "Rose gave me the recipe..." Of course she had. Rose had made that pasta for me in Rome, years ago. Back when we were... whatever we were. "I'm busy." I didn't even look at the plate. "Just leave it." "Oh." A pause. "It's just, you've been working late all week, and I thought..." "Camille." My voice sharp with an anger that wasn't really meant for her. "I said I'm busy." She left the plate and disappeared, quiet as always. The pasta sat untouched until morning, a perfect recreation of a memory that belonged to another woman. --- I hurled my glass at the wall, watching crystal shatter like the life I'd built on lies. God, I'd been cruel. Not just at the end, but throughout our marriage. Every missed dinner, every forgotten anniversary, every time I'd chosen work over her, all excuses to avoid the guilt of wanting her sister. My phone buzzed again. Mother this time. "Darling, I just heard from Rose. Are you alright? Do you need anything? I always said Camille wasn't suited for our family..." I silenced the phone, remembering another moment I'd tried to forget. --- "She's trying so hard, Stefan." Rose's voice was gentle as she poured me another drink. We were alone in my office after another disastrous family dinner. "Maybe if you gave her more guidance..." "Like you did?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "Teaching her all the ways to be perfect?" Rose's laugh was musical, practiced. Everything about her was practiced. "Are you saying you preferred me imperfect?" The air between us crackled with unspoken history. Four years of passion and plans, ended by her sudden departure to London. Or so she'd claimed. "Why did you really leave?" The question slipped out, colored by whiskey and old pain. "You know why." She touched my cheek, familiar and forbidden. "Camille needed a chance at happiness. We both agreed..." Had we? I couldn't remember anymore. Everything from that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like watching a play where I'd forgotten my lines. "She loves you," Rose whispered, too close now. "More than I ever could." But her eyes said something different. They always had. --- Another memory surfaced, this one from last week. The moment everything changed. --- "I made your favorite breakfast." Camille's smile was bright, genuine. Always so damn genuine. "Happy anniversary." The divorce papers burned in my briefcase, Rose's perfume still lingering on my clothes from our late-night "meeting." "I can't." I grabbed my keys, avoiding her eyes. "Early meeting." "Oh." Her voice cracked slightly. "Will you be home for dinner? I thought we could..." "Don't wait up." I'd spent that evening with Rose, planning how to break the news. She'd worn the same perfume she'd worn in Rome, all those years ago. "It's kinder this way," she'd said, stroking my hair. "A clean break. Camille will understand eventually." Would she? The look in her eyes when she'd seen Rose's photo... --- My office door opened, startling me from the memory. Mother stood there, perfectly coiffed even at midnight. "Really, darling. Drinking alone in the dark?" "Not now, Mother." She clicked across the room, surveying the broken glass with disapproval. "Rose is worried about you. We all are." "Worried?" I laughed, harsh and broken. "Like you were worried about Camille all these years?" "That girl was never right for you." Mother's voice hardened. "Rose, on the other hand..." "Stop." I stood, unsteady. "Just... stop." "Stefan Rodriguez, you will not speak to me that way. I raised you better..." "Did you?" The words exploded out of me. "You raised me to what? String along a woman who loved me while pining for her sister? Listen to you tear her down at every opportunity?" Mother stepped back, shocked. In twenty eight years, I'd never raised my voice to her. "Everything she did was wrong, wasn't it?" I continued, the scotch making me brave. "Her clothes, her manners, her cooking. Nothing was ever good enough. But Rose... Rose was perfect." "Because she understands our world! She..." "She understands manipulation." The truth hit me like a freight train. "She played us all. You, me, Camille..." "Don't be ridiculous." Mother straightened her designer jacket. "Rose loves you. She always has." Had she? Or had she loved the game more? I remembered the cold calculation in her eyes when she'd orchestrated our "chance" meetings after returning from London. The way she'd encouraged Camille's insecurities while playing the supportive sister. Even our reunion two months ago felt staged now. The charity gala, Camille conveniently "sick," Rose in that dress I'd loved in Rome... "Mother." I sank back into my chair, suddenly exhausted. "Please leave." "Stefan..." "Go. Tell Rose... tell her..." What? That I was sorry? That I finally saw through her perfect mask? That I'd destroyed my marriage for a fantasy she'd carefully crafted? Mother left, her disappointment hanging in the air like expensive perfume. Like Rose's perfume. Like all the artificial, manipulated pieces of this life I'd chosen. My phone lit up with another message. Rose again: "Darling, stop being dramatic. Come home. To me." Home. I looked around my office, at the shattered glass and scattered papers. At Camille's wedding photo, her genuine smile now seeming like an accusation. What had I done?
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SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes Chapter 25
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
SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes Chapter 24
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
SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes Chapter 23
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SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes Chapter 22
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."
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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
