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

exactly as it always did, clinically organized, dimly lit, with two leather chairs facing each other across a glass table. No couch. No friendly plants

she asked,

a severe bun, eyes sharp

her age and the penetrating Paze of someone who regularly dissected minds for

in the car, Water rising

dress this time." The detail had

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

what therapy is

But you're not receiving conventional therapy, Camille. You're receiving specialized

"Which are?"

think Victoria became who she is by processing her grief in healthy ways? By moving on

custom-made. Nothing but the best in

instructed. "I think you're ready for immersion therapy. Time to

hands trembled as I took the

to relive drowning? Voluntarily?"

you to finish what your subconscious starts every night. You wake up at the moment of drowning.

water, Rose and Stefan watching from above. Initially, panic seized me, the memory of that night too vivid, too

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 rules. I

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

"Please!" Dream-

out as she fell, reaching toward me.

unmoved, as they plunged

swim toward the shore, abandoning Rose to save himself. Typical. Even in my imagination, he was a

Dr. Reed asked when I removed the headset,

and satisfaction warring inside the.

are

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

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