SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 187

Chapter 187

Morning light poured through the windows of their Positano villa, painting golden stripes across rumpled sheets. Camille's sleeping form barely stirred as Alexander slipped from bed. His bandaged hand throbbed with each heartbeat, twelve stitches pulling tight against swollen skin. A fitting reminder of the ugliness beneath his carefully maintained surface.

He moved silently across the tiled floor, retrieving his phone from the nightstand. Seven days into their honeymoon, the pattern had been established: rise before Camille, check messages, delete evidence, return to bed as the loving husband she deserved.

In the bathroom, door shut and water running to mask any sound, Alexander opened the encrypted messaging app. The contact listed simply as "Guardian" had left three new texts during the night.

*Located additional documents from 2013. Kane Industries' targeted takeover plan for Pierce Enterprises mentions Richard by name. Victoria Kane personally signed off on all moves.*

*Found former board member willing to testify Kane knew Richard was "emotionally fragile" and pushed anyway. Specifically referenced causing "complete personal destruction."*

*Call me. Secure line only. We're getting close.*

Alexander's chest tightened, heart hammering against his ribs. Actual proof-not just circumstantial evidence, but Victoria's signature on documents specifically targeting his uncle. Her handwritten approval of a strategy designed to break a man already struggling with depression.

He typed a quick reply with his good hand: *Can't call today. She's never alone. Send document scans through secure server. Will check tonight.*

Alexander stared at his reflection in the replacement mirror, installed yesterday after his outburst. The man looking back, it him appeared normal on the surface, perhaps tired, the bandaged hand noticeable but not alarming. No visible sign of the rot spreading inside him, the decay of his wedding vows even as he spoke them.

"Alex?" Camille's sleepy voice called from the bedroom. "Where are you?"

He quickly deleted the conversation thread, closed the app, and splashed cold water on his face. "Just washing up," he called back, forcing warmth into his voice. "Coffee on the terrace in ten minutes?"

"Perfect." Her voice already sounded more awake, eager for another day in paradise.

Alexander leaned against the sink, gathering himself. Time to become the perfect husband again. Time to bury "Guardian" and his messages beneath smiles and touches and all the outward signs of honeymoon bliss.

*** ****

sweep of the Mediterranean, their private terrace fragrant with potted herbs and fresh bread from the local bakery. Alexander poured coffee into Camille's cup,

passing her

almost forget the parallel life he lived through coded messages

she said, reaching across the table to touch his unbandaged hand. "Though I'm not sure how much

This much, at least, was real, his desire for her, his body's response to her presence, the physical connection that remained undiminished by his secret

Both their

asked lightly, though something in her eyes suggested the question wasn't entirely

important," he answered, ignoring the device. "They know we're on our

nodded, but her smile dimmed slightly. Had she noticed his morning absences? The moments when his thoughts drifted during conversation? The way he sometimes

Alexander

message twice in succession unless it

should check it," Camille said, sipping her coffee. "Might be something

then nodded. "Just a quick

even better than expected! Doctor calling it

Kane would claw her way back from certain death while his uncle had been given no mercy, no chance, no reprieve. The universe's

watching his face with that piercing gaze that missed

Pierce Enterprises needing approval

nonetheless. Another brick in

you sure?" Camille pressed. "You looked upset for

for the casual tone that had become his armor. "Nothing should

not to push further. Either possibility twisted in his gut, another reminder of his

vibrated again. Guardian. He could feel it like an itch

** ** **

showered before their beach excursion, Alexander finally checked the

NAME. Police report redacted this detail at family's request.

named Victoria? All these years, he'd never known the note's contents. His parents had insisted on privacy, had restricted access to all police records. He'd been twenty one, powerless to fight their decisions in the

"Guardian"... James Whitfield, his uncle's former business partner and the only one who had stood by Richard Pierce until the

been