SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 75

Rose slammed her apartment door with such force that a framed photo crashed to the floor, glass shattering

across the marble entryway. She didn't bother to pick it up. Instead, she kicked off her heels, sending the pristine

white carpet.

She didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

Her hands shook as she poured herself a drink, missing the glass entirely on the first try. Amber liquid pooled on

the counter, but she ignored it, finally managing to fill the tumbler on her second attempt. She dra "She's alive,"

Rose whispered, her voice raspy and strange to her own ears. "All this time... she's been alive."

The reality of what had happened at the gala crashed over her in waves. Camille, her pathetic, weak, doormat of

a sister, had orchestrated her downfall. Camille, who had always been the good daughter, the pe Rose hurled her

empty glass across the living room where it exploded against the wall, leaving a dark stain on the cream-

colored paint like a Rorschach test of her rage.

"AAAGGHH!" The scream that tore from her throat sounded animal, primal. Rose grabbed the nearest object, a

glass paperweight, and smashed it into the mirror above her fireplace. Her reflection fractured into

Better. That felt better.

She moved through her apartment like a tornado, destroying everything in her path. Photo frames, vases,

dishes, all shattered against walls, floors, windows. She tore designer clothes from her closet, ripping fa

thousands, snapping heels off shoes, pulling jewelry apart until beads and gems scattered across the floor like

tiny marbles.

When she reached the bedroom, she froze. There on the nightstand sat a photo of her and Stefan, happy,

smiling, victorious. She had won him. She had taken him from Camille. He was supposed to be her priz Rose

lifted the frwith trembling fingers. Stefan's face stared

back at her, the face

she had desired for so long, the man who had been part of her meticulous plan.

"You let her do this to us," she hissed at his image. "You coward. You stood there and let her destroy everything!"

She smashed

the fragainst the edge of the marble nightstand, glass cutting into her palm. Blood dripped onto the photo,

staining his face red. Perfect. That's what he deserved.

Rose sank onto the edge of her bed, suddenly exhausted. Her anger momentarily gave way to the crushing

weight of what she had lost. Her business. Her reputation. Stefan. Even her place in the Lewis family She had

spent years carefully building this life, crafting her image, positioning herself at

the top of New York society. And in one night, Camille had taken it all away.

Rose pulled her knees to her chest, a sob rising in her throat. But no, she

wouldn't cry. Crying was weakness, and she wasn't weak. She had survived foster homes where no one wanted

her. She had fought her way into the Lewis family. She had built a fashion brand from nothing. She was Rose

Lewis. She didn't break. She got even.

Rising from the bed, Rose went to her closet and pulled out the one box she hadn't destroyed. Inside was a

burner phone, cash, a passport with a different name, and account numbers for money she had hidde

Chapter 75

her emergency escape plan. She had always been prepared for disaster, always had a backup plan. That's how

she had survived.

But she wasn't going to run. Not this time.

Rose walked to her bathroom, ignoring the trail of destruction behind her. Blood still dripped from her cut palm,

but she paid it no mind as she turned on the cold water and splashed her face. Mascara ran down She stared at

herself in the mirror, water dripping from her chin.

"This isn't over,” she whispered, echoing her words from the gala. "Not by a long shot."

The shock was wearing off now, her mind

beginning to work again, analyzing, calculating. Camille had help, that much was obvious. Victoria Kane. The

powerful billionaire had taken Camille in, trained her, given her the resources to carry out this revenge.

Rose laughed, a harsh sound in the quiet bathroom.

"So that's who you are now, Camille? Victoria Kane's pet project? Her weapon against me?" She shook her head.

She doesn't know who she's dealing with."

Rose wrapped a towel around her bleeding hand and returned to the living room, stepping over broken glass and

torn fabric. She found her laptop buried under a pile of shredded documents and opened it. First, she needed to

understand how bad the damage was. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she checked news sites, social

media, financial reports. It was worse than she thought. #Camille Returns was Her fashion line was officially

dead. Her remaining business partners had all issued statements distancing themselves from her. Her bank

accounts were indeed frozen pending investigation.

She had nothing left. Almost nothing.

Rose clicked on a news

story about Victoria Kane. The woman was powerful, yes, but not untouchable. Everyone had weaknesses.

Everyone had secrets.

Including Camille.

11

Rose leaned back, her mind racing. Camille had faked her death. There would be legal implications to that.

Insurance fraud, perhaps? And what about Victoria's role in the deception? There had to be something She pulled

out a notebook and began to write, ignoring the blood that occasionally smeared the page. She listed everyone

connected to Camille and Victoria. She noted possible vulnerabilities, potential allies. S By dawn, Rose had filled

dozens of pages. Her eyes burned from lack of sleep, her hand throbbed where

the glass had cut her, but her mind was clear. The path forward was taking shape.

She stood and

stretched, surveying the destruction of her apartment in the gray morning light. It looked like a war zone, which

was fitting, because that's exactly what this was now. War.

Rose walked to the window and looked out over the Manhattan skyline, the sun

just beginning to rise behind the skyscrapers. Somewhere out there, Camille

was celebrating her victory, thinking she had won.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, sister," Rose whispered against the glass. "You took everything from me. Now I'm going to

take everything from you. And this time, | won't fail.”

Chapter 75

She turned from the window, a cold calm settling over her. The initial storm of rage had passed, leaving behind

something more dangerous, calculated, patient vengeance,

Rose stepped over the broken glass and torn fabric without backward glance. She needed a shower, fresh

clothes, a new phone. She needed to contact

the few people who might still be loyal to her. She needed to start rebuilding.

Because this wasn't the end of her story. It was merely the beginning of a new chapter, one where she would no

longer be fighting for Stefan or social status or a fashion empire. Now, she was fighting for pure survival. And

there was nothing more dangerous than a woman with nothing left to lose.

Rose smiled as she stepped into the shower, letting hot water wash away the blood and tears and makeup. Let

Camille think she had won. Let Victoria Kane believe they had destroyed her completely. They had no idea what

she was capable of.

As steam filled the bathroom, Rose struggled to formulate a plan. She had no leverage against Victoria Kane or

Camille. She had no hidden information to use as a weapon. Her finances were frozen, her reputa defeat.

She shut off

the water and wrapped herself in a towel, suddenly feeling more energized than

she had in months. There was clarity in complete destruction. Freedom in having nothing left to protect.

Rose looked at herself in the mirror, her appearance disheveled but her eyes burning with determination. She

splashed cold water on her face again, washing away the last traces of mascara.

"This isn't finished," she whispered to her reflection. "Not by a long shot."

She returned to the living room, stepping through the wreckage of her former life. The broken glass crunched

beneath her bare feet, but she barely noticed the pain. Physical discomfort meant nothing compared Rose sank

into the one chair that remained upright, staring at the wall. She had

no leverage against Victoria Kane, the woman was too powerful, too protected. She had no dirt on Camille that

hadn't already been exposed. She had no money, no allies, no escape plan that would truly work. But she had

her rage. And her determination. And the knowledge that she had rebuilt herself once before, when she had

nothing.

"I will find a way," she said to the empty room. "I don't know how yet, but I will."

Rose curled up in the chair as dawn broke over Manhattan, illuminating the destruction around her. She had

no plan yet, no clear path forward. But one thing was certain, this wasn't over. Not while she still drew breath.

She would wait. She would watch. And eventually, she would find Camille's weakness.

The ghad changed, but in Rose's mind, it wasn't over.

Not even close.