SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

spent six months on a Russian oligarch's yacht."

More photos. More evidence. My mind raced, calculating damage, planning counterattacks. Who was doing this?

Who had the resources and motivation to dig so deeply into my past?

"It's not what it looks like," | said, falling back on the most basic denial.

"It never is with you, is it?" Stefan's voice had gone flat. "Nothing's ever what it looks like. Not your relationship

withwhile | was married to Camille. Not your convenient

return from London just when our marriage was struggling. Not your sudden devotion after her accident."

"How dare you," | hissed, genuine anger flaring. "I loved Camille. Her death destroyed me!"

"Did it?" He moved closer, eyes searching mine. "Because keep remembering your face that night. When they

told us her car went off that bridge. You didn't look surprised, Rose. You looked... relieved." My heart stuttered.

Had he noticed? Had he seen through my performance even then?

"That's absurd. Grief affects people differently. You know that."

"What | know," Stefan said slowly, "is that I'm beginning to wonder if | ever knew you at all."

The door opened again before | could respond. This tmy parents

stood in the threshold, my mother's eyes red- rimmed, my father's face grim.

"Rose." My father's voice, usually so warm when addressing

me, had gone cold. "We need to talk."

Four people in my small office now, the walls closing in. I'd faced criticism before, weathered minor scandals, but

never this coordinated attack from all sides,

you can see.

"Not now," | said, desperation leaking into my voice. "I'm dealing with a PR crisis, as you

"A PR crisis?" My mother stepped forward, brandishing her phone. "Is that what you call sleeping with a married

man while you were studying? Is that what you call lying about where you were during your 'fashi laugh was

sharp, almost cruel. “That's not even the worst part. The worst part is that while | was being cold to Camille,

having love for you and waiting for

you to cback, you were busy messing around with these men."

The raw pain in his voice shocked me. The betrayal in his eyes cut deeper than my parents’ disappointment. He

truly had been waiting for me, just as I'd planned. But now be knew | hadn't been doing the s"Stefan,

please..."

"All those times | was distant with Camille, all those nights you... and you were on sRussian's yacht? In

slord worst husband imaginable to your sister while you were just

stayed late at the office thinking about you, missing bed?" His voice broke slightly. "You madethe

having fun?"

The betrayal cut deep from all sides. My mother had always been my strongest advocate, always taken my side

against Camille, against anyone who challenged me. And Stefan had been my sure thing, my fall Chapter 46

man who would always want me.

"Mom, please. These photos are being taken out of context,

"Context?" She scrolled through her phone, cach swipe revealing another damning image.with Jonathan at a

private dinner.with Lord Hartley at his country estate.boarding Anton's yacht in Monaco

"I made choices to advance my career," | said, drawing myself up. "Cholces men make every day without

judgment."

"Men don't pretend to be working in Paris while lounging on criminal yachts," my father snapped. "Men don't

sleep with

their mentors’ husbands while claiming to be learning design skills."

The united front stunned me. My parents had never confrontedthis way, had always accepted my

explanations, my tears, my carefully crafted stories.

"Who exactly are you?" My mother's question sliced through my shock. "Because the daughter we thought we

knew wouldn't behave this way."

"The daughter you thought you knew?" | laughed, bitterness finally boiling over. "The daughter you chose over

your own blood! The daughter you let get away with everything because she was so special, so tal My voice had

risen to a shout, years of resentment fueling my words. Yes, they'd chosen me, favored me, but always with

conditions. Always expecting performance. Perfection. Success.

"We gave you everything," my father said, voice shaking. "Opportunities Camille never had. Support she never

received. And this is how you honor that? By destroying your own reputation? By embarrassing thi "My

reputation?” | grabbed a vase from my desk, hurling it against the wall. Water and flowers sprayed across my

design sketches, ruining weeks of work. "My entire career is being dismantled by these stories, Stefan moved

betweenand my parents, hands raised as if calming a wild animal. "Rose, you need to pull yourself together.

This isn't helping"

"Helping?" | seized a design award from my shelf, feeling its weight in my hand. "Nothing is helping! My business

partners are abandoning me. My wedding plans are shelved. My own fiancé is questioning my c The award

smashed against my computer screen, cracks spiderwebbing across the display. The release felt so good |

grabbed another object, a

framed photo ofand Stefan, and sent it flying.

"Stop it!" My mother tried to restrain me, but | pushed her away, sending her stumbling into my father.

"Don't touch me! None of you understand what I've built, what I've sacrificed, what I've done to get here!"

"What exactly have you done, Rose?" Stefan's quiet question frozemid-

destruction. "What sacrifices are you talking about?"

His eyes held something new, not just anger or betrayal, but suspicion. Sharp and focused. As if pieces were

finally clicking into place.

“Nothing,” | backtracked quickly. "Business sacrifices. Career choices."

"No." He stepped closer, voice dropping. "I think there's more. Something about Camille. Something you're still

hiding"

For a terrifying moment, | thought he knew. About the men'd hired to frighten Camille that night. About how

Chapter 46

things

had gone wrong. About the car plunging into the river instead of just delivering a warning. "You're being

paranoid," | whispered, suddenly aware I'd said too much.

"Am I?" He held my gaze, searching "First these photos prove you were seeingbehind her back while we

were married. Now your extrreaction to simple questions. What exactly happened the night of h

My father stepped forward, "What do you mean, you were there? You told us you were having dinner with her

that night. That she canceled at the last minute."

More mistakes. More cracks in my story. | needed control, needed to regain my footing in this rapidly

deteriorating situation.

"I misspoke." | said, forcing calm 1 didn't feel. "This stress is makingconfused. Of course | was supposed to

meet her. She canceled. You know this." But Stefan was watchingwith that same

evaluating look, that sgrowing suspicion. "Your stories never quite added up about that night. And now all

these other lies coming to light..."

"Get out." The words tore from my throat. "All of you, get out of my office."

"Rose..." my mother began.

"OUT!" | screamed, grabbing another object, a glass paperweight and hurling it at the wall above their heads.

They retreated, Stefan shepherding my parents through the door, his final glance atfilled with something

that looked like pity mixed with growing certainty.

When they were gone, | collapsed into my chair, surrounded by the destruction I'd caused. Glass and water and

flowers littered the floor. My computer screen flickered with spiderweb cracks. Design sketches la pristine desk.

My phone buzzed with another notification. Another story breaking. Another piece of my past exposed for public

consumption.

Who was doing this? Who had both the resources to uncover my secrets and the motivation to destroyso

methodically?