SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 17

ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW

"Ms.

Lewis, do you think the police should reopen the investigation into your sister's death?"

The reporter's question hit me like ice water as I stepped out of my boutique. Three months. Three months since Camille's car had been pulled from the river. Three months of playing the grieving sister while se I arranged my face into the perfect mask of dignified grief I'd perfected. "My family continues to cooperate fully with authorities," I said, voice carefully modulated to show emotion without appearing unstable. "Bu The reporter pressed closer, microphone extended. "Soutces close to the investigation say no body was ever recovered. Some suggest the case should be treated as a missing person situation rather than a presumed drowning

My heart skipped a beat, though my expression remained steady. "The current was exceptionally strong that night. The police explained this to us. Many drowning victims are never..." I let my voice catch delibe This performance was becoming tedious. I'd given the same answers at the memorial service, at charity events, at business functions. Always the grieving sister, bravely carrying on despite unimaginable loss. I sympathy opening doors, sad smiles earning trust, tearful interviews generating publicity for my fashion line.

But lately, the questions had shifted. Where's the body? Why was she driving there that night? Was there a suicide note? Each one carrying the unspoken suggestion that things didn't add up. "One last question" the reporter started, but I cut him off with a raised hand.

"I'm late for a meeting with investors. Please respect my family's

privacy during this difficult time."

My driver held the car door open, and I slid inside, dropping the sorrowful expression the moment the tinted windows shielded me from view. Tension coiled in my stomach like a snake. These questions were be "The Lewis Industries offices," I instructed the driver, checking my makeup in a compact mirror. Perfect, as always. Not a crack in the facade.

I glanced at the news alert on my phone as I slid into the car

The headline made my blood freeze.

**HEIRESS DROWNING: QUESTIONS REMAIN**

article rehashed the basics, Camille's car found partially submerged, no witnesses, no body recovered despite extensive searching. But it also included quotes from a "source close to the investigation" sugg I closed the article with a flick of my finger. My father had probably seen it already. He monitored all news about the

to others to fix his problems, usually me, since Camille had been useless in a crisis. Just one more way

Chapter 17

Industries, the gleaming tower that housed my father's company. The business he'd built from nothing, the empire that should have

entered the lobby. "Ms. Lewis, your

the top floor, where Dad's assistant ushered me straight into his office. He stood at the window, back to the door, shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit. He'd lost weight "Daddy," I said softly, closing the

in ways makeup couldn't hide. None of the fake grief I'd perfected, but genuine suffering etched into every line. It was pathetic, really. All this pain for a daughter who had never apprecia "Rose." He opened his arms, and I stepped into them, playing my

family's rock.

It's nothing,

several newspapers lay open. Not just the Post, but the Times, the Journal.

he said, sinking into his chair. These rumors... the suggestion of impropriety... it's affecting

desk, laying a comforting hand on his arm. "The police investigation was thorough. The case is closed. These are just reporters looking for

mother hired a

me like

my back. Said she couldn't

chest, but I kept my voice level. "That's unnecessary. And potentially damaging to the company if it suggests

I told her!" His fist hit the desk, a rare display of temper. "But she won't listen. Ever since... since we lost Camille, she's been different. Distant.

Though he wouldn't say it aloud. Moin had always been more perceptive than him, more likely to see through my careful manipulations. She'd been watching me with narrowed eyes

Camille. The ones who were supposed to rough her up a bit, send a message, then disappear. Not force her

and I'd adapted accordingly. Tragedy could be useful

just the investigation," Dad continued, looking miserable. "The memorial fund donations have raised questions too. That Times reporter asked for a breakdown of how the money's being used." The Camille Lewis Memorial Fund, my masterstroke. Set up ostensibly to support mental health awareness,

Chapter 17.

and the right accountants. But

relieved to have me