SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 181

The penthouse was quiet when Camille arrived home. Only the kitchen light glowed, spilling onto the polished floor. She found Alexander at the island counter, papers spread before him, a glass of whiskey at his elbow. The amber liquid caught the light as he raised it, not looking up when she entered.

"Long day?" he asked, still scanning the document in front of him.

Camille set her bag down, her heart beating faster. The weight of Eleanor Pierce's visit pressed on her shoulders. "You could say that."

She moved to the refrigerator, buying time as she pulled out a bottle of water. Her mind raced, searching for the right words. How do you tell someone their estranged mother showed up after seven years of silence?

"Someone came to see me today," she said, her voice quieter than she intended.

Alexander made a noncommittal sound, still absorbed in his work.

"At the office." Camille twisted the cap off her water. "Your mother."

The stillness that followed was absolute. Alexander's hand froze mid-turn of a page. His shoulders stiffened under his dress shirt. When he finally looked up, his eyes had turned to ice.

"My mother," he repeated, his voice flat. "Eleanor Pierce came to your office."

"Yes. This afternoon."

Alexander set his glass down with careful precision. "And what did my mother want after seven years of silence?"

The coldness in his voice sent a chill through Camille. This was a side of Alexander she rarely saw, the hard edge beneath his usual warmth.

"She wants to see you. To talk." Camille moved closer, resting her hands on the counter. "She says she and your father need to apologize."

Alexander laughed, a sharp sound with no humor in it. "Apologize. That's rich." He stood abruptly, the stool scraping against the floor. "Did she tell you why they might need to apologize? Did she share that particular story?"

"Some of it," Camille said carefully. "About the accident. About James."

"About how they chose to believe my brother instead of me?" Alexander's voice rose slightly. "About how they visited him daily while I was learning to walk again? About how they helped him avoid charges while I went through three surgeries alone?"

He turned away, moving to the window. Outside, the city sparkled in the darkness, a thousand lights against the night sky.

"Alexander..."

"No." His voice cut through the room. "Whatever else she told you, whatever she asked, the answer is no. I'm not interested."

Camille took a slow breath. "She mentioned James's death. Your father's stroke."

Alexander's reflection in the window showed no reaction, but his knuckles whitened where he gripped the sill.

"She said they tried to reach you. That they came to your apartment after James's funeral."

"They did," Alexander said coldly. "With his confession letter in hand. Four years too late."

"You knew about the letter?" Camille asked, surprised.

"Of course I knew," Alexander said, turning to face her. "They sent it by courier after I refused to see them. I sent it back unopened."

Camille moved toward him, stopping when he took a step back. "She brought a photo. Of you as a child. Winning a sailing competition."

Something flickered across his face, pain, quickly masked by anger. "She kept my baby pictures. How touching."

"Alexander, please..."

when I needed them most? Please give them absolution so they can

about your father's

had collapsed after seeing our engagement announcement. That he was asking for me." Alexander's expression hardened. "I told him my father made his choice seven years

steadily. "Please listen. Just listen to

a moment, she thought he would refuse. Then he gave a curt nod, moving back to the

anything." Camille chose her words with care. "She said they failed you. Those were her words,

his glass, saying

would be too much to ask. She just wants a chance to apologize in person.

came quietly, some of the ice melting from his voice. "Why keep trying after all these years? After

a step closer, relieved when he didn't pull away. "Your father

it down with a sharp click.

now," Camille said.

because they're getting older. Because James is gone and they're facing their own mortality. They want absolution before it's too

"Does that make their regret

pushed away from the counter, pacing the length of the kitchen. His movements reminded Camille of a caged

finally. "James was always their golden child. The star athlete, the popular one, the son who could do no wrong. When the accident happened..." His voice caught. "I kept telling them he'd been drinking. That he'd insisted on driving even though I offered to call a cab. That he'd

silent, letting him

"They looked

ame

told me I must be confused. That James said I had wanted to drive

I'd had too

the responsible one. James, who would never

refrigerator, pulling out the whiskey bottle and refilling his glass. "Did she tell you that part? How they chose to believe I was lying rather than face

just

dripped with disdain. "Is that what we're calling it?" "What would you call

question hung in the air between them. Alexander stared into his glass as

kind

distance until she stood just a step away. "I thought the

didn't choose to believe her over you out of preference." "Didn't they?"

should forgive them. I'm not saying what they did wasn't horrible. I'm just asking

you pushing this? After

it's like to think a door is closed forever," Camille said quietly. "To believe some wounds can

them. Of the unexpected joy that had

that they haven't earned a second chance.... I'll support that." She squeezed his hand. "But don't make that decision without hearing

away, moving back to the window. For a long moment, he stared out at the city, his body rigid

you still have nightmares," Camille said softly. "Before

events."

surprise breaking through his anger. "She

in his expression. "It was the last thing she asked. If you

before Camille caught the flash of vulnerability

her you have me now," she continued. "That you don't face things alone

the distant sounds of

his voice low. "In a public place. And I

about what happens afterward."

washed through Camille.

asking me to reopen wounds that took years to heal. To face

her hands

face things