SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 178

Chapter 178

The courtroom sat hushed as Judge Hamilton entered. The wooden benches creaked with the movement of those rising to their feet. Camille felt Alexander's hand tighten around hers as they stood. The past eight weeks of trial had led to this moment.

"Be seated," the judge commanded, her voice filling the high-ceilinged room.

Camille lowered herself to the bench, her back straight, her face carefully blank. She had chosen to sit in the second row today, not wanting to be directly in Rose's line of sight.

Rose sat at the defense table in a simple navy dress, her hair pulled back in a modest style that made her look younger, more vulnerable. A calculated choice, Camille knew. Everything about Rose was calculated.

"The jury has reached a verdict," Judge Hamilton announced. "Bring in the defendant."

Rose stood as the bailiff approached. Even with her wrists shackled, she moved with grace, her chin lifted. Not once during the proceedings had she shown fear or remorse. Not even when the evidence mounted day after day, witness after witness. Not even when her own words, recorded during her kidnapping of Camille, were played back to the stunned courtroom.

The jury filed in, twelve ordinary people who had listened to the extraordinary tale of jealousy and hatred that had consumed Rose Lewis's life. None of them looked at Rose as they took their seats. A bad sign for the defense, Camille thought distantly.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" the judge asked.

The foreman stood, a middle-aged man with tired eyes. "We have, Your Honor."

"On the first count, attempted murder in the first degree, how do you find?"

"We find the defendant guilty."

A soft murmur rippled through the courtroom. Camille didn't move, didn't blink. Rose's back stiffened, the only sign she had heard.

"On the second count, kidnapping, how do you find?"

"Guilty."

"On the third count, conspiracy to commit domestic terrorism..."

The list continued. Twenty-seven charges in all. Twenty-seven times the word "guilty" echoed through the courtroom. With each pronouncement, Camille expected to feel something, relief, satisfaction, closure. Instead, a strange emptiness spread through her chest, as if she were watching a scene from someone else's life.

Rose never turned around, never glanced back at the half-sister whose life she had tried to destroy. She stood perfectly still, like a statue carved from ice, as the verdict sealed her fate.

Judge Hamilton scheduled the sentencing for the following morning, and the bailiffs led Rose away. Only then, at the doorway, did Rose pause and look back. Her eyes found Camille's with unerring precision. No words were exchanged, but the message in Rose's gaze was clear: This changes nothing.

The courtroom emptied slowly. Reporters rushed out to file their stories. Lawyers gathered their papers. Alexander guided Camille through the crowd, shielding her from questions shouted by journalists.

In the car, she finally spoke. "I should feel something, shouldn't I?"

Alexander studied her face. "What do you think you should feel?"

"I don't know. Relief? Joy? Something other than..." She gestured helplessly at her chest. "This emptiness."

"What Rose did to you can't be undone by a verdict," Alexander said quietly. "No matter how many times the word 'guilty' is spoken."

Camille turned to look out the window as the car pulled away from the courthouse. Cameras flashed outside, capturing the moment for tomorrow's headlines. Another chapter in the story the public couldn't get enough of—the sister who rose from the ashes, the sister who burned in her own hatred.

"I spent so long waiting for this," Camille said. "First with Victoria, planning our revenge. Then with the prosecutors, building the case. Now it's done, and I feel...nothing."

Alexander reached for her hand. "Maybe that's progress."

"How is feeling nothing progress?"

"Because revenge consumes. Justice just is."

The words stayed with Camille through the evening, through dinner at Alexander's penthouse where they spoke of other things, through the quiet hours before sleep. Justice just is.

*** **

Morning came too quickly. Another dark suit, another car ride to the courthouse, another walk through the gauntlet of cameras and shouted questions.

This time, Camille sat in the front row. She wanted Rose to see her, to know she wasn't hiding.

Rose entered looking different than the day before. Gone was the modest navy dress, replaced by a red designer outfit that somehow didn't look out of place despite her circumstances. Her hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she had managed to apply makeup that made her look both innocent and striking.

Always performing, Camille thought. Always wearing the mask she thinks will serve her best.

Judge Hamilton wasted no time. After reviewing the jury's findings, she addressed Rose directly.

"Ms. Lewis, before I pronounce sentence, you have the right to make a statement to the court. Do you wish to do so?"

Rose stood smoothly, turning slightly so her profile was visible to the gallery, and the cameras. "Yes, Your Honor."