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.

every forgotten anniversary, every time I'd chosen work

buzzed again.

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

another

were alone in my

from my voice. "Teaching her all

Everything about her was practiced. "Are you saying

history. Four years of passion and plans, ended by her

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

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

that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like watching a play

too close

eyes said something different. They always

this one from last

smile was bright, genuine. Always so

divorce papers burned in my briefcase, Rose's perfume still

I grabbed my keys, avoiding

"Will you be home for dinner?

"Don't wait up."

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

perfume she'd worn in

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

her

opened, startling me from the

even

alone

"Not now, Mother."

room, surveying the broken glass with disapproval. "Rose is worried about you. We all

you were worried about

for you." Mother's voice hardened. "Rose,

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