SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

The scream ripped from my throat before I was fully awake, my body jackknifing upright in bed. Sweat soaked through my silk nightgown, heart hammering against my ribs like it might break through. For a mom

Rose's face,

smiling as I drowned. Stefan watching from the shore, doing nothing. Their fingers intertwined as they witnessed my death, as casual as if they were watching a sunset.

"Ms. Kane?" A knock at my bedroom door. "Do you need assistance?"

The night guard. New guy. Torres or Torrez. I couldn't remember his name. Victoria rotated security personnel regularly, another layer of protection in her perfectly orchestrated world.

"I'm fine." I called back, voice steadier than I felt. "Just a dream."

"Yes, ma'am. Dr. Reed has been notified as per protocol."

Of course she had. Everything in Victoria's mansion was monitored, measured, reported. Privacy was a luxury I'd surrendered along with my old identity. I checked the clock 3:17 AM. Another night ruined by memories that refused to stay buried.

Six months of training. Six months of becoming someone new. Six months of Victoria's relentless program to transform me from victim to avenger. And still, my subconscious betrayed me, dragging me back into My phone lit up with a text: My office. 15 minutes. -Dr. Reed*

No sympathy. No option to reschedule. Just a command thinly disguised as a message. Typical of Victoria's handpicked psychologist.

I shuffled to my bathroom, splashing cold water on my face. The woman in the mirror had changed dramatically since Victoria had found me, cheekbones sharper from the surgical refinements, hair styled in an eyes harder from months of combat training. But in the hours after a nightmare, I still saw traces of the old. Camille beneath the carefully crafted exterior. Vulnerable. Afraid. Weak.

Dr. Reed would not approve.

Hero

facing each other across a glass table. No couch. No friendly plants of personal photos to soften the atmosphere. Dr. R surfaces matched her approach, precise, unforgiving, designed to cut through

she

pulled back in a severe bun, eyes sharp as they assessed my

half her age and the

my overheated skin. "I'm in the car, Water rising Pose and Stefan watching from the bridge, smiling

my wedding dress this time." The detail had twisted

note on her tablet. "Six months of nightmares. Who told you stopping

what therapy

receiving conventional therapy, Camille. You're

"Which are?"

it control you. Do you think Victoria became who she is by processing her grief in healthy ways? By moving on The bluntness hit me like a physical blow. She moved to a cabinet, retrieving a virtual

but

"I think you're ready for immersion therapy.

hands trembled as I took the

to relive drowning? Voluntarily?"

night. You wake up at the moment of drowning. I want you to see what happens

me, the memory of that night too vivid, too raw. But something shifted inside

It opened. Not possible in reality, not

tailored power suit, hair perfectly styled, makeup Пlawless, Rose's

"Please!" Dream-

out as she fell, reaching toward me.

plunged

shore, abandoning Rose to save himself. Typical. Even in my imagination, he

asked when I removed

shame and satisfaction warring inside the.

are you

touched my cheek, surprised to find it wet. "Because the person

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