SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 25

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 spent making

I continued, stalking through my perfect apartment like a caged animal. "Making you doubt yourself. Making you think you weren't enough. And all along you were sitting on millions!"

for so long it had become my face. With a cry of pure fury, I grabbed a decorative vase and

mirror.

splintered, creating a

The perfect daughter. The loving sister. The secret

broken reflection. "That's why you left the money to them. You figured out what I really was. Where

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

The glass cracked but didn't break -

clawed my way out of nothing! I made myself perfect! I deserved

photo me and Camille at my fashion show launch. Her arm around my waist, both of us sailing. Both of us lying. I studied her face in the

"I didn't

stubborn, didn't you? Had to fight back. And now look what happen The Tome joined the pile of broken glass on my

drawers until I found what I wanted the stack of Camille's journals. The ones I'd stolen and doctored after her "death, planting

Chapter 25

by choice if not by blood," I mimicked her words from the will reading. "I leave with hope rather than malice.' Hope for what, Camille? Hope

years practicing being the perfect daughter, the perfect sis "You don't know what it's

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