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.

went anyway," he said, a ghost

his face. "Came

I worried too

should have

Camille

thought she was making a mistake choosing Boston instead of Yale.

his head. “She was following her heart, and I couldn't

photos: Camille

the animal shelter, laughing with friends at

so good, Richard. So kind." Margaret's hands shook. "And we

seeing her. How did that happen? When did

Camille and Stefan at their engagement party.

perfect smile that had fooled them

did all the right things. She moved through our world like she was born to it." "Not like

about appearing

her." Richard's voice broke. "Our own daughter,

closed her eyes, remembering Camille's face at Kane

ago, cold

she'll ever forgive

immediately.

looking at each

know," he said honestly.

about Rose and Stefan... The way we

desperately. "We can

already tried that at

us like we were

Like we meant

Margaret's cheeks. "That's not our Camille. Victoria Kane has

"No,"

killed. The woman we met at Kane Industries, that's who our daughter had to become to survive what was done to her. What was done to her

reached for a photo from Camille's wedding to Stefan. The three of them stood together, with Rose visible at the

at her, even then. How did we not

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

was

messy and real and... so much stronger than we ever

through more photos. So many pictures of Camille until age eleven, riding horses, reading books, winning awards, making silly faces. Then, after Rose came, the images changed dramatically.

the parking garage," Margaret realized. "We lost her starting the day Rose arrived. It

every time we chose Rose's version over hers.

perfect manners while

she belongs

Actually loves her,

love the way we understand it. But she

She gave her

her old

hands curled into fists. "Our 'perfect' daughter

our real daughter killed."

that summer when Camille was ten,"

silence. She

from her horse, and I slept in her room for a week. It was the last time

wake up, and I would tell her

brave girls

waiting to

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