SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

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

did, clinically organized, dimly lit, with two leather chairs 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 emotional

dream?" she

eyes sharp as

her age and

leather chair, the cool surface a stark contrast to my overheated skin. "I'm in the car, Water rising Pose and Stefan watching from the bridge, smiling

wedding dress this time." The detail had twisted like a

tablet. "Six months of nightmares. Who told you

that what therapy is for?

receiving conventional therapy, Camille. You're receiving

"Which are?"

your trauma rather than heal it. Your pain is power if you control it instead of letting 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

probably custom-made. Nothing but the best

think you're ready for immersion therapy.

took the headset. "You want

to relive drowning? Voluntarily?"

subconscious starts every night. You wake up at the moment of

the rising water, Rose and Stefan watching from above. Initially, panic seized me, the memory

to recede. In my mind, I pushed against the car door. It opened. Not possible in reality, not with water pressure, but this wasn't reality. This was my mind, my

hair perfectly styled, makeup Пlawless, Rose's smile faltered as

"Please!" Dream-

out as she fell, reaching toward me.

as they plunged into the

tried to swim toward the shore, abandoning Rose to save himself. Typical. Even in my

asked when I

admitted, shame and satisfaction warring inside the.

why are you

surprised to find it wet. "Because the person who enjoyed that isn't