SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 77

Rain pounded against the windows of Camille's office, matching her mood as she stared at the notification on her

phone. The message was brief: her parents were waiting in the lobby. No warning, no call ahead. They had

simply shown up, expecting her to drop everything and see them.

Sthings never changed.

"Ms. Kane?" Rebecca stood in the

doorway, her expression concerned. "Your... the Lewises are downstairs. They're insisting on seeing you."

Camille set down her pen, her fingers surprisingly steady despite the storm brewing inside her. "How long have

they been waiting?"

"Almost an hour. They refuse to leave without speaking to you."

Of course they did. Margaret and Richard Lewis had always believed doors should open for them, that their

demands warranted immediate attention. Even now, after everything that had happened, they expecte "Send

them up in fifteen minutes," Camille said, turning back to her computer. "Not a second earlier."

Rebecca nodded and disappeared, leaving Camille alone with thoughts she had tried to bury since the Phoenix

Gala. Unlike with Stefan, whose visit she had

anticipated and prepared for, this confrontation caught her off guard. She had hoped her parents would respect

her wishes, would understand that sbridges couldn't be rebuilt.

But hope had always been her weakness where family was concerned.

Camille stood and walked to the window, watching raindrops race down the glass. The

sky had turned nearly black, thunder rumbling in the distance. A perfect backdrop for the scene about to unfold.

Fifteen minutes later, Rebecca's voice cthrough the intercom. "They're here, Ms. Kane."

"Send them in," Camille replied, remaining by the window, her back to the door.

She heard them enter, heard her mother's sharp intake of breath, heard her father clear his throat, that familiar

sound that had always preceded his lectures. Camille didn't turn around.

"Camille," her mother's voice broke on her name. "Please look at us."

Slowly, Camille turned. They looked smaller somehow, diminished. Her mother's carefully maintained

appearance showed

cracks, hair not quite perfect, makeup slightly smudged from the rain or perhaps tears. Her father

stood straight as always, but new lines marked his face, and his eyes held none of their usual confidence.

"Why are you here?" Camille asked, her voice flat.

"Because you're our daughter," her father said, as if that explained everything, as if the word "daughter" still

meant anything between them.

"We've been going out of our minds," her mother added, taking a step forward. "Ever since the gala, we've been

trying to process everything. To understand how...."

"How | survived?" Camille finished for her. "How | becsomeone new? Or how your precious Rose tried to

havekilled?"

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Her mother flinched. "All of it. Please, Camille. We need to talk about this."

Chapter 77

"There's nothing to talk about." Camille moved back to her klesk, putting the solid oak barrier between them. "I

said everything | needed to say at the gala."

"You can't mean that," her father insisted, moving closer. We're your parents. Whatever mistakes we've made...."

"Mistakes?" Camille's laugh held no humor. "Is that what you call it? A mistake?"

Her father faltered, then straightened his shoulders. "We had no idea what Rose had done. How could we

possibly have known?"

"Because | told you," Camille replied, her voice rising despite her efforts to stay calm. "I stood in our family home

and told you both that Rose was having an affair with Stefan. That she had manipulated both of "We didn't

believe it because it seemed impossible," her mother said, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "Rose has been part of

our family since she was thirteen. We raised her, loved her..."

"You didn't raise her," Camille cut in. "You adopted a teenager who had already formed

her worldview, who saw our family as a prize she had won, not a gift of love. And you didn't just love her, you

favored her. You always did."

"That's not true," her father protested, but the doubt in his eyes betrayed him.

"Isn't it? When Rose got a B in math, you hired a tutor and praised her efforts. When | got an A-, you asked why it

wasn't an A. When Rose wore something you didn't approve of, it was ‘expressing herself. Whe the same, | was

‘embarrassing the family.""

The memories rushed back, a lifetof small cuts that had bled her confidence dry. "And it wasn't just when we

were young. When | told you Stefan was cheating, your first instinct wasn't to comfortor prot Her mother

shook her head desperately. "We didn't mean to hurt you. We loved you both equally..."

"No," Camille said softly. "You didn't. And deep down, you know that's true."

Silence filled the room, broken only by the thunder outside and her mother's muffled sobs.

"Camille," her father finally said, his voice rough. "We've made terrible mistakes. Unforgivable ones. But you're

alive, our daughter is

alive. Surely that's a second chance, a miracle. Can't we at least try to heal this?"

"Heal what, exactly?" Camille asked. "The fact that you never truly saw me? That you believed the worst of me

and the best of Rose, no matter the evidence? That when | needed you most, you abandonedHer father's

face crumpled, his carefully maintained facade finally breaking. "We were wrong. So terribly wrong. When we

heard about your...

your death, it

destroyed us. We've spent the last year living with the knowledge that our last conversation with you was an

argument, that you died believing we didn't love you."

"And now that I'm not dead, you want absolution." Camille's voice remained steady, though her heart pounded

painfully in her chest. "You wantto tell you it's okay, that | forgive you, so you can sleep at night "We want

our daughter back," her mother pleaded, moving around the desk to reach for Camille's hand. Camille stepped

away, maintaining the distance between them.

"Your daughter is gone," she said quietly. "Camille Lewis ded that night in the parking garage. The woman

standing before you is someone else entirely."

"No." Her mother shook her head fiercely. "You might have a different name, a different life, but

you're still our child. Nothing can change that, not even what Rose did."

Chapter 77

"This isn't about Rose," Camille said. "Not entirely. Yes, she was my executioner. But you handed her the tools."

Her parents flinched as if physically struck.

"Every tyou praised her at my expense, every tyou dismissed my feelings, every tyou made it clear

she was the daughter you truly wanted, you gave her more power to hurt me. You taught her that Camille

walked back to the window, watching lightning streak across the darkened sky. "When Stefan gavethose

divorce papers, do you know why | didn't cto you? Because | already knew what you w "That's not true," her

father protested weakly.

"Isn't it?" Camille turned to face them again. "When | finally did tell you about his affair with Rose, that's exactly

what happened. You defended them both. You questioned my sanity rather than their integrity."

Her mother sank into a chair, her body shaking with sobs. Her father stood helplessly, his eyes revealing the

truth he couldn't bring himself to admit, that every word Camille spoke was accurate. "We've lost everything,"

her mother whispered. "Rose is gone. The family nis ruined. And now you... you won't even give us a

chance to make amends."

"Sthings can't be fixed," Camille said, a hint of gentleness entering her voice despite

her resolve to remain detached. "Sbetrayals cut too deep. This isn't a Hollywood movie where the estranged

family has a tearful reunion and everything is magically healed. Real life doesn't work that way." "So that's it?"

her father asked, his voice breaking. "Twenty six years of family just... erased? You're throwing away your entire

past?"

"My past was already taken from me," Camille replied. “The night | discovered my husband and sister had

betrayed

me. The night men attackedin a parking garage and leftfor dead. The night | realized my parents would

never believeover their precious Rose."

She moved back to her desk, signaling that the conversation was ending. "I don't hate you. | don't wish you ill. |

simply don't have room in my new life for people who couldn't loveas | deserved to be loved." "Please," her

mother begged, rising from the chair. "Just give us a chance. We can start over. We can do better." "It's too late,"

Camille

said, her voice final. “I spent my entire life trying to

earn your approval, your love. I'm done trying."

Her father approached the desk, his proud posture now bent with grief. "What can we

do? There must be something. Sway to reach you."

Camille looked at them both, these people who had given her life but failed to nurture her spirit, who had

provided material comfort but withheld emotional security. For a moment, she felt a flicker of the old long But

that flicker died quickly, smothered by the memory of their betrayal.

"There's nothing you can do," she said softly. "Except respect my wishes and leavealone. Don't call. Don't

visit. Don't reach out through friends or colleagues. Consider Camille Lewis dead, because that's w "You can't

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mean that," her mother whispered. "We're your parents. That bond can't just be severed."

"It already was," Camille replied. "You severed it years ago, piece by piece, with every dismissal, every criticism,

every tyou chose Rose over me. I'm just acknowledging what has long been true." Her father's face

hardened, his grief giving way to anger, his typical response when he couldn't control a situation. "So that's it?

After everything we've given you, everything we've sacrificed..."

"This isn't about what you gave me," Camille interrupted, her voice sharp. "It's about what you didn't give me.

Protection. Trust. The benefit of the doubt. Unconditional love. The things parents are supposed to p She pressed

the intebutton. "Rebecca, could you please cin? The Lewises are leaving."

"You can't dismiss us like employees," her father protested

"I can and | am." Camille stood firm, her resolve unshaken. "I told you at the gala that our relationship was over. |

meant it. The only reason | agreed to see you today was to make that absolutely clear." Rebecca appeared at the

door, her expression professionally neutral despite the obvious tension in the room.

"Please escort Mr. and Mrs. Lewis to the lobby," Camille instructed.

"Camille, please..." her mother reached for her one last time.

"Goodbye," Camille said firmly. "I wish you well, but | don't want you in my life. Not now. Not ever."

Her father's face twisted with a mixture of grief and indignation. "You'll regret this. Someday, when you're older,

when you have children of your own, you'll understand that family is all that matters in the end." Camille met his

gaze unflinchingly. "You taughtexactly what family means, that it's conditional, that love can be withdrawn if

you don't meet expectations, that blood ties don't guarantee protection or support Her mother let out a

strangled sob as Rebecca gently guided them toward the door. Her father looked back once, his eyes filled with a

pain Camille recognized all too well, the agony of rejection, of not being en When the door closed behind them,

Camille remained standing, her body rigid with

tension. She had expected to feel triumphant, or at least relieved. Instead, a hollow ache spread through her

chest, not regret, exactly, but mourning for what could have been, for

the parents they might have

been in another life, for the daughter she might have been if they had truly loved her.

Outside, the storm intensified, rain lashing against the windows as if nature itself shared her turmoil. Camille

watched the water blur the city lights, transforming them into smears of color against the darkness. She had

survived Rose's betrayal. She had faced Stefan and sent him away. Now she had severed the last ties to her old

life

Camille Kane stood alone in her office, surrounded by the trappings of her new existence, the power, the

prestige, the freedom to define herself on her own terms. She had won. She had reclaimed her life from Why,

then, did victory taste so much like ash?

Her phone buzzed with a message from Victoria: "Dinner tonight? We should celebrate your clean break."

Camille stared at the words, realizing that while she had lost one family, she

had gained another, not perfect, not traditional, but hers by choice rather than blood.

"Yes," she typed back. "I'm ready to move forward."

And as the storm outside began to

subside, Camille felt something shift within her, the first tentative release of a burden she had carried for too

long. Not forgiveness, not yet. But perhaps, eventually, peace.