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.

came because we have things that need saying.

Alexander space while remaining close enough for support. This was his battle,

standing behind his wife's chair. "Son, we know words

are, asking

Eleanor corrected. "Not expecting. Just...

a harsh sound that filled the quiet room. "Seven years of silence, then four years of letters and

believe

agreed. "You

away from the window, walking the perimeter of the room.

touching a small bronze sailing trophy tucked between

still have this," he said, surprise softening

your school

you feel better?" Alexander's hardness returned. "Collecting mementos of the son you threw

deserve

agreed again. "You

know what I've accomplished since I walked out of this

Neither parent answered.

money, just my own intelligence and determination." Alexander's voice grew stronger. "I became a trillionaire without a single call or message of support from

reach out after James died. All those

too late. After James wrapped his car around a tree, drunk again, just like the night of

were wrong to shut you out, Alexander. When James died, the truth hit us

after all that time. Not when your reaching out felt like

wiped tears from her cheeks. "We don't blame you for shutting us out. We earned

fireplace, watching the flames. "Did he tell you before the crash? That he was driving that night years

before his accident. He'd been carrying that guilt for years. He said

to my office," Alexander confirmed, his back still to them. "I sent

we finally understood the weight you'd been carrying alone

you'd chosen the wrong son? To know your golden boy

as he approached his son. "Like dying every day. Like knowing we'd done something that could never

his father approach,

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

Alexander

Edward's shoulders slumped.

them, Alexander rigid with years of pain, his parents bent under

own

"And I found people who believe in me.

Camille with

to a leather

the house. "I didn't come here

if afraid any movement might shatter

you. Not yet." Alexander's voice grew quiet. "But I think..... I think I can learn to.

was

agreed.

you again? To hear about your life, your work? Your wedding plans?" Alexander looked at his