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.

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

buzzed again. Mother

from Rose. Are you alright? Do you

silenced the phone, remembering another

she poured me another drink. We were alone

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

about her was practiced. "Are you saying

between us crackled with unspoken history. Four years of passion and plans, ended by her sudden departure to London. Or so

leave?" The question slipped out, colored by whiskey and old

my cheek, familiar and forbidden. "Camille

I couldn't remember anymore. Everything from that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like watching a play where I'd forgotten

whispered, too close now. "More than I

her eyes said something different. They always

this one from last week. The moment everything

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

papers burned in my briefcase, Rose's perfume still lingering on my clothes from

grabbed my keys, avoiding her eyes. "Early

cracked slightly. "Will you be home

"Don't wait up."

that evening with Rose, planning how to break the news.

perfume she'd worn in Rome,

stroking my

in her eyes

office door opened, startling me from the

even at

Drinking alone

"Not now, Mother."

surveying the broken glass with disapproval. "Rose

"Like you were worried

for you." Mother's voice

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