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.

missed dinner, every forgotten anniversary, every time I'd chosen work over her, all excuses to avoid

phone buzzed again. Mother this

heard from Rose. Are you alright? Do you need anything? I always said Camille wasn't suited for

silenced the phone, remembering another

We were alone in my office after

did?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "Teaching

musical, practiced. Everything about her was practiced. "Are

Four years of passion and plans, ended by her sudden departure to

slipped out,

touched my cheek, familiar and forbidden. "Camille needed a chance at

Everything from that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like watching a play where

you," Rose whispered, too close now. "More than I

her eyes said something different. They always

surfaced, this one from

smile was bright, genuine.

papers burned in my briefcase, Rose's perfume

keys, avoiding

cracked slightly. "Will you be home for dinner? I thought we

"Don't wait up."

how to break the news. She'd

worn in Rome, all those years

she'd said, stroking my hair.

in her

office door opened, startling me from the memory. Mother stood

even at

Drinking alone in

"Not now, Mother."

the room, surveying the broken glass with disapproval. "Rose is

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

was never right for you." Mother's voice hardened.

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