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

a photo of a man who looks remarkably like you." She turned to face him,

shortening she used in their most private moments, told him everything about her

that revealed nothing while satisfying her curiosity. The war inside him intensified.

finally, tone flat with finality.

he was lying. "So you've been carrying meaningless items that just happen to be carefully preserved? That just happen to make you smash mirrors when you

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

seeking weaknesses, calculating angles of attack. Then something in her expression shifted, and

remember you promised to share your life with

and suffocating. Before he could respond, her phone chimed. Camille glanced at the screen, her expression

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

transform, worry to relief to joy. Whatever news Victoria shared lifted the shadows from her eyes, brought color rushing back

amazing!" she exclaimed. "The tumors are shrinking that fast? Oh my god,

stomach witnessing Camille's relief at the recovery of the woman who had crushed

Camille called, covering the phone. "Victoria wants to talk

the phone, to scream the truth at Victoria, to tell her he knew exactly what she'd

lifting his damaged hand.

fled inside, making it to the bathroom just in time to vomit violently into the toilet. His body heaved until nothing remained but bitter bile, as empty as

*** **

into the

of

reveal the elegant line of her neck. The diamond phoenix necklace Victoria had given her

"Three months ago they gave her months to live. Now they're talking about possible

for answers

a little more convincing." Camille's voice held an edge. "She's my mother in every way that matters, Alex. Her survival

destroyer dressed in savior's clothing, a wolf in grandmother's nightgown, lips still red from her

into his voice. "I'm happy for you. For her. It's just been a

the table, fingers brushing his bandaged hand. "Talk

The evidence against Victoria. His uncle's suicide after Victoria systematically shredded

apart their marriage days after it began. Destroy the happiness finally blooming in Camille after years of

finally. "Just work

between them. Camille's fingers withdrew from his. "I

words came out harsher than

in Italian as he arranged dishes neither of them now had any appetite for. Camille picked at her food,

told you everything about me. My pain. My fears. My nightmares. And somehow, you can't give me even a glimpse of whatever's tearing

could he possibly say? That he'd married her while plotting against the only mother

response that never came. Finally, she placed her napkin on the table. "I'd like to

the night air thick with unspoken words. Stars wheeled overhead, indifferent to human suffering. The cliffside path stretched before them,

current situation,

*** **

a moment alone with his torment, He removed his jacket, wincing as the movement pulled at his stitches. From his suitcase, he retrieved

his uncle's lily, staring

brown at the edges.