SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 212

Chapter 212

Alexander sat alone in his darkened penthouse, staring at his bruised knuckles. The skin was split where his fist had connected with Stefan's jaw, dried blood marking the moment when he had completely lost control of himself. His hand throbbed with each heartbeat, a physical reminder of how far he had fallen from the man he used to be.

The silence in the apartment was deafening. No sounds of Camille moving through their shared space, no gentle humming from the kitchen as she made coffee, no soft breathing beside him in bed. The emptiness pressed against him like a weight he couldn't escape.

His phone lay on the coffee table, screen dark and silent. No messages from Camille. No calls from anyone who cared whether he lived or died. The isolation was complete, and Alexander realized he had built this prison himself with his choices, his obsessions, his inability to see past his need for revenge.

He replayed the scene at Kane Industries over and over in his mind. The way Stefan had placed his hand on Hannah's shoulder - such a simple gesture, but Alexander had seen betrayal where there was only friendship. He had seen manipulation where there was genuine connection. His jealousy had twisted reality into something ugly and threatening.

The look on Camille's face when the security guards led him away haunted him. Not anger, which he could have understood. Not hatred, which he probably deserved. Just profound sadness, as if she was watching someone she once loved destroy himself beyond recognition.

And maybe that's exactly what she had been watching.

Alexander stood up and walked to the bathroom, studying his reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at him looked like a stranger. Hollow cheeks, bloodshot eyes, stubble that spoke of days without proper self-care. When had he become this person? When had his grief for his uncle transformed him into someone who could punch an innocent man in a jealous rage?

He splashed cold water on his face, the shock of it bringing momentary clarity. The events of the evening began to replay in his mind, but this time he forced himself to see them without the filter of his paranoia and pain.

Stefan and Hannah had been working together, sitting close because they were sharing documents. The way Hannah had immediately rushed to tend Stefan's injury wasn't the reaction of someone helping a married woman's lover - it was the response of someone who cared deeply about the injured person.

"Stefan and Hannah," Alexander said aloud to his reflection. "Not Stefan and Camille."

The realization hit him like another punch, this one to his chest rather than his face. He had been so consumed by his assumption that every man in Camille's life was trying to win her back that he had completely misread what was actually happening.

Alexander returned to the living room and slumped onto the couch, his mind churning through other moments when his jealousy might have blinded him to reality. How many times had he interpreted innocent interactions as threats? How many times had his need to see enemies everywhere prevented him from seeing the truth?

His laptop sat open on the side table, displaying the last encrypted message from the Guardian: *Phase Three will proceed as planned. Victoria Kane and her allies must face consequences for their interference with justice.*

Alexander stared at the message, feeling doubt creep into his mind like ice water in his veins. The Guardian's language had always been cold, calculated, focused on destruction rather than justice. Tonight, seeing Stefan and Hannah's obvious care for each other, seeing Camille's genuine sadness at his behavior, Alexander began to wonder if he had been fighting for the wrong cause.

What if Richard Lewis had been telling the truth about the court documents? What if the evidence Alexander had received about Victoria's crimes was deliberately misleading? What if his uncle's death was tragic but not the result of some elaborate conspiracy?

Alexander opened his uncle's journal, the pages worn from months of reading and rereading. The entries that had once seemed like clear evidence of Victoria's guilt now appeared different to his questioning eyes.

*Victoria Kane is destroying everything I built. She planted those safety violations.*

But what if Victoria hadn't planted the violations? What if someone else had sabotaged Meridian Technologies and let Richard Pierce take the blame? The financial records Stefan and Hannah were investigating might hold answers that Alexander had been too angry to seek.

*The banks are calling in our loans. Victoria's influence reaches everywhere.*

Or maybe the banks were responding to legitimate concerns about Meridian's financial stability after the factory accident. Maybe Victoria's influence had nothing to do with it.

*I won't let her win. I won't let her destroy what my father built.*

Alexander felt tears burning his eyes as he read his uncle's final entries. The pain was real, the desperation genuine. But pain and desperation didn't always lead to accurate understanding of events.

Alexander closed his laptop and walked to the window, looking out at the city where his life had fallen apart..

The thought terrified him more than any enemy he could face. If he was wrong about Victoria, then he had destroyed his relationship with Camille for nothing. If he was wrong about the Guardian, then he was being used as a weapon by someone with an agenda he didn't understand.

If he was wrong about everything, then his uncle's real killer was still out there, probably laughing at how effectively they had turned Alexander into their unwitting accomplice.

Alexander pulled out his phone and scrolled to Camille's number. His finger hovered over the call button for a long moment before he set the phone aside. He had forfeited his right to contact her when he chose revenge over trust, when he chose the Guardian's narrative over his wife's love.

But maybe he could still honor his uncle's memory by finding the real truth instead of the convenient fiction he had been fed. Maybe he could still protect Camille from whatever larger scheme was unfolding around them.

The first step would be investigating the Guardian himself. Finding out who was really behind the encrypted messages and mysterious meetings. Discovering what agenda Alexander had been unknowingly serving.

As Alexander began planning his investigation into his supposed ally, he felt something he hadn't experienced in months: hope. Not hope for reconciliation with Camille - that bridge might be burned beyond repair. But hope that he could still become the man she had once believed him to be.

The man who chose truth over convenient lies, who chose protection over destruction, who chose love over the seductive poison of revenge.

The questions that had been building in his mind finally crystallized into a single, terrifying possibility:

What if everything he thought he knew about his uncle's death was wrong?