SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Camille's point of view

The private investigation office smelled of coffee and secrets. I sat across from Martin Wells, retired NYPD detective turned high-

end investigator, watching him spreid photos across his desk like playing cards.

"Four affairs during her time in London," he said, tapping grainy Image of Rose entering a hotel with a man who wasn't Stefan. "Two with married executives. One with a British lord. One with her fashion mentor

Something cold settled in my stomach as I picked up the photo, Rose, laughing, hand tucked possessively into the arm of a silver-

haired man twenty years her senior. The timestamp showed a date just three weeks after I'd married Stefan

"You're certain these are authentic?" I kept my voice steady, professional. Victoria had taught me never to show emotion

during business dealings, even when the business was revenge.

Wells nodded, sliding more photos toward me. “Verified by three different sources. Ms Lewis was... busy during her fashion apprenticeship.”

And these men? They'll confirm the relationships if approached?"

"Two already have." Wells handed me a flash drive. "Recorded statements. Nothing explicitly naming her, but enough detail to make identification obvious. The British lord refused comment, but his ex- wife was quite forthcoming about why their marriage ended."

I studied another photo, Rose leaving a London apartment at dawn, still wearing evening clothes from the night before. The man in the doorway behind her was recognizable as Jonathan Hayes, whose wife ha "Mrs. Hayes fired her a week after this was taken," Wells commented. "Publicly claimed it was due to 'creative differences.' Privately told friends it was for sleeping with her husband."

The revelation shouldn't have surprised me. Rose had always taken what she wanted, regardless of who got hurt. Yet seeing actual evidence of her betrayals while I had remained loyal to Stefan sent a wave of

Wells

grimaced. "Harder to prove, but multiple sources confirm Rose borrowed' design

concepts from other. apprentices. Three designs she claimed as her own match sketches that mysteriously disappeared from colleagues.

workstations."

others' chances. Only now did I see how systematic it had been. "And

made my breath catch. Rose, barely recognizable with platinum blonde hair, hanging on the arm of an older man whose face had been splashed across enough tabloids to be "Anton Bessonov. Russian businessman with questionable connections. Under investigation in three

Chapter 44

face in the photo. The calculating look in her eyes.

positioning to ensure her

"How long?"

months. She lived on his yacht. Traveled with him to seven countries. Then disappeared from his life just as news of the international

exclusive boutiques. The timestamp indicated just two weeks

records?" I asked,

my perfect, polished sister, had been a kept woman for a suspected criminal. Had potentially helped launder money, Had certainly been unfaithful to Stefan be "We've compiled everything into a comprehensive dossier, Wells handed

clutching the envelope that held my sister's

payment will be transferred today. Thank you for

Kane." Wells hesitated as

but why dig into

wasn't just Camille Kane, Victoria's heir. That the woman in those photos had stolen my husband, possibly arranged my "death," certainly destroyed my life Instead, I gave him the practiced

my waiting car, I finally allowed myself to process what I'd learned. The envelope sat heavy

why people chose

understood. Rose hadn't been better, she'd simply been willing to do things I never would. Lie. Cheat. Steal. Betray. Sleep

buzzed Victoria checking on

collected? Her message was typically

replied, fingers hovering over the keys before adding: She's worse

two begins tomorrow. Release the first photo to

stirring beneath my satisfaction. This was what I wanted, Wasn't it? To expose Rose's lies? To destroy her reputation just

wondered what it said about me that I was now using the same tactics Rose had always

I becoming just like her in my quest to

at a red light, and I caught my reflection in the window. The face looking back was still strange to me sometimes, sharper cheekbones, more defined jawline, eyes harder than they'd once been. But whose revenge, really? Hers or mine? And when it was over, who would

leaving these questions answered. I opened the envelope again, spreading the photos across my lap. Rose's

begin to crack. The world would start to see what I'd

vindication, yes, but also