SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 182

The car rolled up the long driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires. Alexander sat motionless in the passenger seat, his face a mask as he stared at the mansion ahead. Camille drove, giving him the freedom to absorb the sight of his childhood home after seven years away.

"We can still turn around," she said softly.

Alexander shook his head. "No. I need to do this."

The Pierce estate stood proud against the autumn sky, all gray stone and tall windows. A place built to show wealth, not to give warmth. Two figures waited on the wide front steps, Eleanor and Edward Pierce, standing close yet somehow apart.

"They look nervous," Camille observed.

"Good." Alexander straightened his tie, a gesture Camille recognized as his way of gathering strength. "They should be."

She parked near the entrance, turning off the engine. The sudden silence felt heavy.

"Remember," she said, taking his hand. "Whatever happens in there, I'm with you."

Alexander's fingers tightened around hers. "The last time I walked out these doors, I was nineteen and they told me not to come back until I 'saw reason.' Until I stopped 'slandering' my brother."

The bitterness in his voice made Camille ache for the young man he'd been, wounded, betrayed, alone.

"Let's go," he said, opening his door before she could respond.

The air smelled of cut grass and autumn leaves as they walked toward the house. Eleanor took a half-step forward, then stopped, her hands clasped so tightly her knuckles shone white. Edward stood rigid, his face unreadable beneath his silver hair.

"Alexander," Eleanor said, her voice trembling slightly. "Thank you for coming."

Alexander gave a curt nod, offering nothing more.

"Please, come inside," Edward said, his deep voice less steady than Camille had expected.

Alexander took her hand as they followed his parents into the house. The entrance hall loomed vast and cold, marble floors and high ceilings creating an echo chamber. Family portraits lined the walls, generations of Pierces staring down with identical blue eyes. Camille noticed the most recent portrait, a younger Alexander standing behind his seated parents, James at their side. Alexander's eyes lingered on it as they passed.

"We can sit in the library," Eleanor suggested, leading them down a hallway.

The library felt warmer than the rest of the house, lined with books from floor to ceiling. A fire burned in the massive stone fireplace, casting dancing shadows on leather chairs and heavy wooden tables. It looked like a room where people might actually live, not just exist for show.

"You've kept it the same," Alexander said, the first words he'd spoken since entering.

Eleanor nodded. "It was always your favorite room."

Alexander moved to the window, looking out at the manicured gardens. His shoulders were tense under his tailored suit.

"Would you like something to drink?" Edward asked, moving to a sideboard where crystal decanters gleamed in the firelight.

"No." Alexander turned to face his parents. "I didn't come here to pretend this is a social visit."

Edward's hand paused above a decanter. Eleanor sank into a chair, her eyes never leaving her son's face.

agreed. "You came because we have things that need saying. Things

door, giving Alexander space while remaining close enough for support. This

behind his wife's chair. "Son, we know words aren't enough. What we did was

asking for forgiveness," Alexander

"Not

silence, then four

voice cracking slightly. "We chose to believe what was easier, not what was true. We

Alexander agreed.

from the window, walking the

touching a small bronze sailing trophy tucked between

said, surprise

said. "Your trophies, your school reports, newspaper clippings

make you feel better?" Alexander's hardness returned.

deserve that.

agreed again. "You

someone else. "Do you know what I've accomplished since I

Neither parent answered.

own intelligence and determination." Alexander's voice grew stronger. "I became a trillionaire without

to reach out after James died. All

a tree, drunk again, just like the night of our accident. After he died." He set the trophy down harder than necessary.

Alexander. When James died, the truth hit us like a tidal wave. Everything you'd said

voice tight. "Not after all that time. Not when your reaching out

her cheeks. "We don't blame

you before the crash? That he

nodded. "Yes. The week before his accident. He'd been carrying that guilt for years. He

them. "I sent him away. Told him it was too

died," Edward said quietly. "And we finally understood the weight you'd been carrying

them. "How did that feel? To know you'd chosen the wrong son? To know your golden boy

steps were unsteady as he approached his son. "Like dying every day. Like knowing we'd done

his father approach, his face

you to forgive us," Edward said, stopping a few feet away. "I'm just asking you to know that we've lived with our mista every day since James died. That we would give anything, anything,

Alexander said

shoulders slumped.

by the crackling fire. Camille watched the three of them, Alexander rigid with years of pain, his parents bent under the weight of their

said finally. "I learned to stand alone. To trust my own judgment when everyone told me I was wrong. In some ways, what

in his expression. "And I found people who believe

said, looking at Camille with

moved to

the house. "I didn't come here topunish you. I've realized that carrying this anger hurts me

still, barely breathing, as if afraid

quiet. "But I think..... I think I

was painful

Alexander agreed.

again? To hear about your life, your work? Your wedding plans?" Alexander looked at his father for a long moment. "Small steps.