SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 186

Chapter 186

The Italian sun beat down like judgment from above, turning their clifftop villa into a white-hot crucible. Sweat beaded on flesh, sheets soaked through, salt crystallizing on skin as bodies moved together in urgent rhythm. Camille's nails raked down Alexander's back, drawing blood he barely felt. Her legs locked around his waist like a vise as he drove into her with punishing force.

This wasn't lovemaking. It was exorcism.

Camille's cry echoed off stone walls as she arched beneath him. Her eyes flew open, pupils blown wide, meeting his gaze with naked vulnerability that flayed him alive. For one blinding moment, there was only this, her body taking his, her trust complete, her surrender absolute.

Then the moment shattered, and the demons rushed back in.

Alexander collapsed beside her, chest heaving. Five days in Amalfi had burned away pretense. Here, they devoured each other hourly, moved together like animals, slept tangled in sweat-soaked sheets. The physical intensity should have purged his mind. Instead, it only heightened his torment.

"Jesus," Camille whispered, voice raw. "You're trying to kill me."

Her casual words stabbed through him. Kill. Death. Uncle Richard swinging from a beam, face purple, because Victoria Kane had systematically destroyed everything he built.

Alexander rolled away, sitting up with his back to her. Scratches stung across his shoulders, physical pain that couldn't begin to touch the war raging inside him.

"Where are you going?" Camille's hand reached for him.

"Water," he managed, voice strangled.

In the bathroom, he braced himself against cold marble, staring at a stranger's reflection. Wild-eyed, hollow-cheeked, skin marked with evidence of Camille's passion. Not the face of a newlywed in paradise. The face of a man possessed. His phone vibrated on the counter. Another message from Victoria: *Latest scans show tumors shrinking faster than expected. Doctors calling it remarkable progress. Miracle recovery possible. Miss you both. Call when you can.*

Alexander's fist slammed into the mirror, shattering his reflection into jagged pieces. Blood welled from split knuckles as he staggered back, vision blurring. The fucking injustice of it burned like acid. Victoria fighting her way back from certain death, while his uncle had been given no chance, no reprieve, no mercy.

"Alex!" Camille appeared in the doorway, naked and alarmed. "Jesus, what happened?"

He clutched a towel to his bleeding hand. "Slipped. It's nothing."

She pushed past him, grabbing his wrist, unwrapping the already blood-soaked towel. "This isn't nothing. You need stitches."

"I said it's fine." He jerked away, immediately regretting his harshness when hurt flashed across her face.

"Talk to me," she pleaded, reaching for him again. "Something's been eating you alive since we got here. Whatever it is..."

"Drop it, Camille." His voice cut like the glass scattered across the tiles. "I mean it."

The silence between them stretched taut as a noose. Camille's expression hardened into something he recognized from her Kane training, assessment, calculation, strategy. Victoria's protégée surfacing from beneath the passionate woman he'd been fucking moments earlier.

"Get dressed," she said finally, voice cool. "I'll call the front desk about a doctor."

*** **

The local doctor spoke limited English, grimacing as he picked glass from Alexander's knuckles. Twelve stitches later, they sat in strained silence on the terrace, lunch untouched between them. The view mocked them, turquoise water sparkling beneath a perfect sky, lemon groves cascading down terraced hills, postcard beauty surrounding private hell.

"I found something in your suitcase yesterday," Camille said suddenly, eyes fixed on the horizon. "While looking for bandages."

The

man who looks remarkably like

full name from her lips, not Alex, not the intimate shortening she used

satisfying her curiosity. The war inside him intensified. Tell her. Tell no one. Avenge. Protect.

finally, tone flat with finality. "Just things I didn't

that just happen to be carefully preserved? That just happen to make you

alone, Camille." Each word emerged like broken glass.

he thought she would push further. The strategist Victoria had trained assessed him, seeking weaknesses, calculating angles of attack. Then something in her expression shifted,

promised to share

devastating precision. Guilt flooded him, thick and suffocating. Before he could respond, her phone

Victoria," she said, already answering. "Victoria? Is everything

news Victoria shared lifted the shadows from

are shrinking that fast?

stone. He couldn't bear to hear more, couldn't stomach witnessing Camille's relief at the recovery of the woman who had crushed his family

covering the phone. "Victoria wants

the truth at Victoria, to tell her he knew exactly what she'd done to Richard Pierce. Instead, he gripped the terrace

managed, lifting his damaged hand. "Tell her

His body heaved until nothing remained but bitter bile, as empty as his promises of forever made with a divided

*** **

in a restaurant carved into the cliffside, tables suspended over the void,

of

reveal the elegant line of her neck. The diamond phoenix necklace Victoria had given her glittered at her throat,

strained silence between them. "Three months ago they gave her months to live. Now they're

his wineglass, searching for answers in the blood-red

held an edge. "She's my mother in every way that matters, Alex. Her survival means everything to

across his nerves. Victoria Kane was no mother, she was a destroyer dressed in savior's clothing,

he said, forcing softness into his voice. "I'm happy for you. For her. It's just

the table, fingers brushing his bandaged hand. "Talk to me. Please. Whatever's happening with you, let me

her everything. The storage unit. The evidence against Victoria. His uncle's suicide after Victoria systematically shredded his company, his reputation, his

moment passed. Such a confession would tear apart their marriage days after it began. Destroy the happiness finally blooming in Camille after years of pain. Force her to choose between her husband and the woman who

nothing you can fix," he said finally. "Just work stress I'd rather not discuss

fingers withdrew from his. "I don't believe

words came out

as a shroud. The waiter arrived with their main course, murmuring in Italian as he arranged dishes neither of

voice barely audible. "I've told you everything about me. My pain. My fears. My nightmares. And somehow, you can't give

twisted in Alexander's gut, but he remained silent. What could he possibly say? That he'd married her while plotting against the only mother figure she'd ever known? That each time Victoria texted, he imagined

waiting for a response that never came. Finally, she placed

wheeled overhead, indifferent to human suffering. The cliffside path stretched before them, beauty and danger side

his current situation, Alexander thought

*** **

running, giving him a moment alone with his

staring at the dried petals

brown at the edges.