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.

those years I

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

rage. The mask I'd worn for so long it had become

mirror.

creating a dozen fractured

worn. The perfect daughter.

you?" I accused my broken reflection. "That's why you left the money to them.

path. Ripped designer clothes from their hangers. Overturned furniture, Shredded the fancy art

windows. The glass cracked but didn't break

way out of nothing! I made myself

of us sailing. Both of us lying. I studied her face in the picture searching for signs she'd

"I didn't

papers. But you had to be stubborn, 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 fallen soldiers in iny

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

Chapter 25

by 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

many hours spent practicing her style, just like I'd spent years practicing being the perfect daughter, the perfect sis "You don't know what it's like,"

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