SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 4

Chapter 4

STEFAN'S POINT OF VIEW

The scotch burned going down, but I poured another anyway. My third? Fourth? I'd lost count somewhere between signing those divorce papers and watching Camille walk away.

Our wedding photo still sat on my desk, mocking me. Camille's genuine smile, my distracted eyes, already looking past her, always looking for Rose.

Rose.

Even her name felt like betrayal now.

My phone lit up with another message from her: "Darling, stop drinking and come over. We should celebrate."

Celebrate. Like we hadn't just destroyed someone who loved us. Someone who'd given me three years of devotion I never deserved.

The memory hit me like a punch to the gut.

---

"Stefan?" Camille's voice was small, uncertain. "Did I do something wrong?"

I looked up from my laptop, irritated at the interruption. She stood in the doorway of my home office, holding a plate of something that smelled amazing.

"I made that pasta you mentioned. The one with truffles?" Her eyes were hopeful. "Rose gave me the recipe..."

Of course she had. Rose had made that pasta for me in Rome, years ago. Back when we were... whatever we were.

"I'm busy." I didn't even look at the plate. "Just leave it."

"Oh." A pause. "It's just, you've been working late all week, and I thought..."

"Camille." My voice sharp with an anger that wasn't really meant for her. "I said I'm busy."

She left the plate and disappeared, quiet as always. The pasta sat untouched until morning, a perfect recreation of a memory that belonged to another woman.

---

I hurled my glass at the wall, watching crystal shatter like the life I'd built on lies.

God, I'd been cruel. Not just at the end, but throughout our marriage. Every missed dinner, every forgotten anniversary, every time I'd chosen work over her, all excuses to avoid the guilt of wanting her sister.

My phone buzzed again. Mother this time.

"Darling, I just heard from Rose. Are you alright? Do you need anything? I always said Camille wasn't suited for our family..."

I silenced the phone, remembering another moment I'd tried to forget.

---

"She's trying so hard, Stefan." Rose's voice was gentle as she poured me another drink. We were alone in my office after another disastrous family dinner. "Maybe if you gave her more guidance..."

"Like you did?" I couldn't keep the bitterness from my voice. "Teaching her all the ways to be perfect?"

Rose's laugh was musical, practiced. Everything about her was practiced. "Are you saying you preferred me imperfect?"

The air between us crackled with unspoken history. Four years of passion and plans, ended by her sudden departure to London. Or so she'd claimed.

"Why did you really leave?" The question slipped out, colored by whiskey and old pain.

"You know why." She touched my cheek, familiar and forbidden. "Camille needed a chance at happiness. We both agreed..."

Had we? I couldn't remember anymore. Everything from that time felt hazy, manipulated. Like watching a play where I'd forgotten my lines.

"She loves you," Rose whispered, too close now. "More than I ever could."

But her eyes said something different. They always had.

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