SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 177

Camille's car pulled up to the small restaurant in Greenwich Village, far from the gleaming towers of Midtown where she now spent her days. The place looked unchanged from when she'd last visited, before the divorce, before Victoria, before she became someone else entirely.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in?" Alexander asked from the driver's

seat.

Camille shook her head. "This is something I need to do alone."

"Call if you need me," he said, squeezing her hand. "I'll be twenty minutes away."

She nodded, gathering her courage before stepping onto the sidewalk. Through the restaurant window, she could already see them-Margaret and Richard Lewis. Her parents. Waiting at a corner table, her mother nervously rearranging silverware, her father checking his watch.

This marked the first time they would meet without Victoria's watchful presence since their cautious reunion months ago. No buffers. No mediators. Just three people trying to rebuild what years of hurt and betrayal had shattered.

The bell above the door jingled as Camille entered. Her mother looked up, face lighting with a smile that couldn't hide the anxiety beneath. They stood as she approached, awkwardly hovering between formality and intimacy.

"Camille," her father said, the first to recover. "You look well."

She allowed a brief hug, still uncomfortable with physical contact from the people who had once doubted her most. "Thank you for suggesting this place," she said. "It's been a long time."

"You used to love their chocolate almond cake," Margaret said, her voice softer than Camille remembered. "You would beg to come here on your birthday."

"Did I?" Camille asked, genuinely trying to recall. So many memories had been pushed down, buried beneath pain and reinvention.

They settled into their seats, ordering drinks to bridge the awkward silence. Three people who shared blood but had become strangers, searching for common ground.

"We saw the press conference," Richard said finally. "You were quite impressive." Camille smiled faintly. "Victoria trained me well."

"It wasn't just training," Margaret interjected. "That poise was always in you. Even as a child."

The waiter brought their drinks. Camille wrapped her fingers around her water glass, needing something solid to hold.

"I've been thinking about your childhood lately," Margaret continued, her eyes showing a new vulnerability. "Looking through old albums. Remembering."

"What have you remembered?" Camille asked, unable to keep the edge from her voice. What their memories contained and what hers held might be very different. Margaret reached into her bag and pulled out a small envelope. She slid it across the table. "I found these last week. I thought you might want them."

seen before. The first showed a girl of about six sitting on a dock, fishing rod in hand, gap-toothed grin wide beneath a sun

"Cedar Lake," Camille murmured.

"A tiny sunfish.

second photo showed the same girl a few years older, standing beside a science fair project. WATER ECOSYSTEMS proclaimed the header in careful

said. "The judge said he'd never seen such advanced

third photo stopped Camille's breath. In it, she sat at a piano, her

she whispered.

that Chopin piece until your fingers hurt. Said you

the memory taking shape as

Margaret

it away," Richard admitted. "After you

said, the pieces connecting. "She hated my playing. Said it gave her

carried the weight of all

said finally. "We thought we were helping two sisters bond. We didn't see what she

her mother's face, searching for the truth. "Why didn't you believe me? When I told

flinched, but didn't look away. "Because believing you meant

was easier to think you were mistaken," Richard added, his voice rough with emotion. "Than to accept that we had let Rose manipulate all of

the menu,

reached across the table, stopping just short of touching Camille's hand. "We can't undo what happened. But we're trying to understand it

see things clearly," Camille said, the name a

we couldn't," Richard

Victoria,"

piano and science projects. Who collected butterflies and pressed theme between wax paper. Who cried when she found a bird with a broken wing and

memories felt like they belonged to someone else,

remember all that?" she

answered. "Even if we

giving Camille a moment to collect herself. The risotto tasted exactly as she remembered, creamy, rich with herbs and wine. A flavor from her past that still

they'd eaten in silence for a few minutes. When Camille nodded, she pulled a worn journal from her

had made her feel her thoughts were safe. She hesitated before taking it, unsure

cleaning out the attic," Margaret

the

her own childish handwriting. She skimmed entries about school achievements, friend troubles, dreams of becoming

caught her eye, dated just weeks