SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 83

Chapter 83

The late afternoon sun slanted through the tall windows of the Lewis family estate, casting long

shadows across the polished floors. Margaret Lewis sat alone in the east wing parlor, surrounded by open photo albums. Her trembling fingers traced a photograph of seven- year- old Camille, beaming with a missing front tooth

and holding a science fair ribbon.

"First place," Margaret whispered to the empty room, her smile crumpling.

She turned a page. Camille at

ten, sitting with Margaret on marble steps, their heads bent over. "The Secret Garden." Margaret remembered how Camille had begged to read two chapters that night.

The memories washed over her in waves. These were all from before Rose had

arrived when Camille was thirteen. Before everything changed.

With shaking hands, she pulled out a photo

tucked between pages: Camille at ten in the kitchen with Margaret, making Christmas cookies despite the chef's protests. Flour dusted their faces, laughter frozen in time. They had been inseparable then.

"We were happy," Margaret said to the photograph. "We were so happy."

She hadn't realized she was crying until a tear splashed onto the

plastic sleeve. Margaret wiped it away carefully, then pressed

the album to her chest.

The fifteen-thousand-square-foot mansion felt

too vast now, too quiet. Since the day the visited Camille and she cut ties with them, Margaret had moved through each day like a ghost. Richard's voice echoed in the hallway as he spoke to Bradford, their butler.

"No calls, Bradford. Not even from the board."

"Very good, sir. Shall I have Mrs. Peters prepare dinner for two

in the small dining room?"

"That would be fine. And tell her no seafood tonight. Margaret isn't up to it."

Margaret turned another page. Camille at

fourteen, playing the grand piano at her recital.

Richard's footsteps approached, then stopped in the doorway.

"Oh, Maggie," he said softly, using the nickname he hadn't spoken in years.

Margaret looked up at her husband. His bespoke suit couldn't hide how his frame had thinned, his shoulders slumped. His face seemed to have aged a decade in

the past month, deep lines carved around his mouth.

“Look at us,” Margaret said, holding up a family vacation photo. "She was twelve here. Remember how she wanted to learn to scuba dive, and you were so worried?"

Richard knelt beside her, taking the photo.

he said, a ghost

his face. "Came back with that

worried too

should have worried less about

another photo: Camille on

was making a mistake choosing Boston instead of Yale.

head. “She was

photos: Camille winning

animal shelter, laughing

was always so good, Richard. So kind." Margaret's hands

How did that happen? When did we stop seeing our

a more recent photo, Camille and Stefan at their engagement

smiling that perfect smile

all the right things, did all the right things. She moved

Who didn't care about appearing in the society pages or impressing the

broke. "Our own daughter, and we chose a stranger over

closed her eyes, remembering Camille's face at Kane Industries

ago, cold

you think she'll ever forgive

immediately. He gathered

looking at

he

us about Rose and Stefan... The way we doubted her, accused her of jealousy and

apologize," Margaret said desperately.

already tried that

looked at us like we were shareholders asking for

Like we meant

"That's not our Camille.

"No,"

at Kane Industries, that's who our daughter had to

from Camille's wedding to Stefan. The

at her, even then. How did we not see

to," Richard admitted. "Rose was the daughter we thought we wanted, agreeable, socially perfect.

was

person, messy and real and... so much stronger than we ever gave

age eleven, riding horses, reading books, winning awards, making silly faces. Then, after Rose came, the images changed dramatically. Fewer candid

"We lost her starting

chose Rose's version over hers.

perfect manners while

"And now she belongs to

you think Victoria loves her? Actually loves her, not just

the way we understand it. But she

to. She gave her

when her old one was

curled into fists. "Our 'perfect' daughter who tried

our real daughter killed."

thinking about that summer when Camille

She

her horse, and I slept in her room for a

wake up, and I would tell her stories until she fell

girls who

waiting to be

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