SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 25

ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW

I slammed my apartment door so hard the walls shook. The sound echoed through the empty space, matching the thunder in my heart. My hands shook as I poured myself a drink, spilling expensive whiskey or "Damn you, Camille," I whispered, then screamed it: "DAMN YOU!"

The crystal glass flew from my hand,

shattering against the wall in a spray of amber liquid and broken dreams. Thirty million dollars. The Cedar Hill estate. All of it gone to those worthless foster kids.

My legs gave out and I slid to the kitchen floor, surrounded by the mess I'd made. Just like my life -

everything perfect on the surface, chaos underneath. And now Camille, sweet, stupid Camille, had managed to ruin everything even from the grave.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" I spoke to

the empty air, imagining her ghost watching me fall apart. Little Miss Perfect with her secret fortune. Did you laugh about it? Did you enjoy knowing you had something I didn't?"

I grabbed another glass, hurled it across the room. The crash brought a sick satisfaction.

years I

small," I continued, stalking through my perfect apartment like a caged animal. "Making you doubt yourself. Making you think you weren't enough.

I'd worn for so long it had become my face. With a cry of pure fury,

mirror.

glass splintered, creating a dozen

mask I'd worn. The perfect daughter. The loving sister. The secret lover.

the money to them. You figured out what I really was. Where I really

destroying everything in my path. Ripped designer clothes from their hangers. Overturned furniture, Shredded the

The glass cracked but didn't

had limits. "I clawed my way out of nothing! I made myself perfect! I deserved that money more than any of

launch. Her arm around my waist, both of us sailing. Both of us lying.

"I didn't

you? Had to fight back. And now look what happen The Tome joined the pile of broken glass on my imported marble floors. Thousands of dollars in destroyed luxury items scattered around me like

home office, yanking open drawers until I found what I wanted the stack of Camille's journals. The ones I'd stolen and doctored

Chapter 25

blood," I mimicked her words from the will reading. "I leave with hope rather than malice.' Hope for what, Camille? Hope I'd confess? Hope

pages I'd so carefully forged, my handwriting a perfect match for hers. So many hours spent practicing her style, just like I'd spent years practicing being the perfect daughter, the perfect