SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

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Chapter 46

Rose point of view

I stared at my phone screen until the words blurred, reading the same headline for the twentieth time. "ROSE LEWIS: THE PRIVATE LIFE SHE DIDN'T WANT YOU TO SEE” Beneath it, that grainy photo of me How? How had anyone found this? I'd been so careful.

My boutique office, normally my sanctuary, felt suffocating now. Outside, I could hear my staff whispering, their usual respectful silence replaced by urgent murmurs. They'd seen the stories. Everyone had.

Three major fashion sites had dropped my spring collection Five influencers had canceled promotional contracts. Two department stores had "postponed" their orders. All within twenty- four hours.

My empire, built so carefully brick by brick, was crumbling beneath my feet.

The phone on my desk rang again. My publicity team, no doubt, with another useless strategy. I'd already released three statements, first denying everything, then suggesting the photos were manipulated, final I ignored the call, returning to my social media feeds. The comments cut like knives.

"Always knew she was fake."

"Poor Camille, no wonder she drove into that river."

"#RoseThoms is right beautiful but toxic!"

Tears stung my eyes. Not from shame, I'd never felt shame for taking what I wanted, but from rage. I'd spent years crafting the perfect image. The talented designer. The grieving sister. The devoted fiancée. All stolen moment captured on film.

The office door banged open. Stefan stood there, still wearing his work suit, face thunderous. He held his phone in a white-

knuckled grip.

"When were you going to tell me?" His voice was dangerously quiet.

I stood, smoothing my skirt, forcing my face into concerned lines. "Stefan, darling. I've been

trying to reach you all day. These rumors are....”

"Not rumors." He stepped inside, slamming the door behind him. "Facts. With photographic evidence."

"It was years ago. Before us. Before..."

“Before us?” He laughed, a harsh sound I'd never heard from him. "According to the date on this photo, you were sleeping with your mentor's husband three weeks after I married your sister."

Ice slid down my spine. I hadn't noticed the timestamp. Hadn't thought anyone would look that closely.

"It wasn't serious," I tried, moving toward him. "A mistake One night that meant nothing."

avoiding my touch. "And the others?

too? How much had they uncovered?

you these lies?" I demanded, offense as defense.

destroy what we have?"

a hand through his hair, disheveled in a way that would normally make me want to fix it. "What exactly do we have, Rose? A relationship built on our manipulation of Camille? A future "I never lied to you," I insisted. "I just didn't share every detail of my past. Everyone

stared at me

were during your 'year in Paris'? Because according to these

was doing this? Who had the resources and

it looks like," I said,

with you, is it?" Stefan's voice had gone flat. "Nothing's ever what it looks like. Not your

was struggling. Not your sudden

flaring. "I loved Camille. Her death destroyed

your face that night. When they told us her car went off that bridge.

affects people differently. You know

I'm beginning to wonder

I could respond.

threshold, my mother's eyes red- rimmed,

usually so warm

had gone cold. "We

small office now, the walls closing in. I'd faced criticism before, weathered minor scandals, but never

you can see.

now," I said, desperation leaking into my voice.

were during your 'fashi laugh was sharp, almost cruel. “That's not even the worst part. The worst part is that while I was being cold to Camille,

to come back, you were busy messing

his eyes cut deeper than my parents' disappointment. He truly had

were on some Russian's yacht? In

thinking about you, missing bed?"

having fun?"

strongest advocate, always taken my side against Camille,

would

please. These photos are being

image. Me with Jonathan at a private dinner. Me with

said, drawing myself up. "Cholces men make every day without

be working in Paris while lounging on criminal yachts,"

husbands while claiming to be learning

My parents had never confronted me this

exactly are you?" My mother's question sliced through my shock. "Because the daughter we thought

over your own blood! The daughter you let get away with everything because she was so special, so tal My voice had risen to a shout, years of resentment fueling my words. Yes, they'd chosen me, favored me,

reputation? By embarrassing thi "My reputation?" I grabbed a vase from my desk, hurling it against the wall. Water