SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 4

Chapter 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.

but throughout our marriage. Every missed dinner, every forgotten anniversary, every

buzzed again.

I just heard from Rose. Are you alright? Do you need anything?

another

were alone in my office after another disastrous

my voice. "Teaching her all the ways

was musical, practiced. Everything about her was

between us crackled with unspoken history. Four years of passion and plans, ended

really leave?" The question slipped out, colored

forbidden. "Camille needed a chance at happiness. We both

we? I couldn't remember anymore. Everything from that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like

whispered, too close now. "More than

said something

memory surfaced, this one from last week. The

favorite breakfast." Camille's smile was bright, genuine. Always so damn

papers burned in my briefcase, Rose's perfume

keys, avoiding her eyes. "Early

"Will you be home for dinner? I

"Don't wait up."

that evening with Rose, planning how to break

she'd worn in

way," she'd said, stroking my hair. "A clean break.

she? The look in her eyes when she'd

opened, startling me from

even

darling. Drinking alone

"Not now, Mother."

the broken glass with disapproval. "Rose is worried about

I laughed, harsh and broken. "Like you were worried about Camille all

right for you." Mother's voice hardened. "Rose, on the other

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