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.

forgotten anniversary, every time I'd chosen work over her, all

buzzed again. Mother this

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

the phone, remembering another

was gentle as she poured me another drink. We were alone in my office after another disastrous family dinner. "Maybe if you gave

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

laugh was musical, practiced. Everything about her was practiced. "Are you saying you preferred

history. Four years of passion and plans, ended by her sudden departure to London. Or

really leave?" The question slipped out, colored

and forbidden. "Camille needed a chance

remember anymore. Everything from that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like watching a

close now. "More than I ever

eyes said something different. They always

from last

smile was bright, genuine. Always so damn

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

I grabbed my keys,

Her voice 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, all those years

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

look in her

office door opened, startling me from the memory. Mother

even

alone

"Not now, Mother."

surveying the broken glass with

you were worried about Camille

never right for you." Mother's

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