Todos os capítulos de From Dust to Ashes: A scorned Bride : Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Camilla.I never imagined I could get used to this kind of heat. I moved silently through the grand halls, broom in hand, eyes lowered. No one noticed how my uniform had started fitting tighter around the stomach. Or maybe they did and simply didn’t care. Either way, I hid it well—baggy aprons, layers, long hours in corners where no one looked. By nightfall, my feet throbbed with pain because of how long I'd stood during the day, and my head spun from a lack of rest and food. Still, I shuffled into the kitchen where a mountain of dishes towered beside the sink. Greasy pots, smeared plates, sour-smelling bowls. I just couldn't believe what mess they've made and then assigned me to clean it The stench hit me first. My stomach clenched, a warning. I pressed a hand to my mouth, swallowing down the nausea. My child, barely formed and already demanding, made everything harder. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, steadying myself.“Camilla?” Miri’s voice was soft, her eyebrows drawn in c

Grey.I stood in the restroom for almost an hour. I didn't know if I wanted to go on with the session or just go back home.But then I decided maybe I should just go in there and get it done.Almost on cue, Dr. Bobby appeared in the doorpost with his odd-legged shuffle and an anxious expression. Tall and overweight, with flax-brown hair and metal-framed glasses, his great pudding of a body was trying to burst out of a long overcoat made shapeless by its bulging pockets."Sorry I took too much time. Something came up." He glanced around the restroom, still unsure whether to step inside."Something came up for half an hour?"I made eye contact with him and then turned my face away.He was used to me being defensive and enclosed, but this was different. Instead of keeping secrets, I was telling lies. It was like closing the shutters in front of someone and then trying to deny they existed.He looked at me like he was taking a quick inventory—my shoes were polished and my hair was combed.

Camilla.I don’t know what hit me first—the weight of the memories crashing down on my chest, or the tremble in Julia’s voice as she said my name like she’d seen a ghost. Maybe I was a ghost, in some sick, twisted way. My knees gave out beneath me, and I staggered back, barely catching myself on a nearby tree trunk. The world blurred around me, not from the tears clouding my eyes, but from the flood of memories—raw, jagged flashes of things I had buried so deep I thought they were lost forever.My hands shook violently. My breath was ragged. Julia’s face swam in my vision, eyes wide with disbelief and something darker—panic. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something more, but I didn’t wait.I ran.My legs kicked into motion before my brain could fully catch up. I didn’t care where I was going—I just needed to go. Branches slapped against my face, thorns snagged at my arms, but I pushed harder, faster, desperate to escape the nightmare unraveling behind me.Behind me, tires scre

Camilla.“What the hell are you talking about!?” Grey’s voice boomed across the room, slicing through the tense air like a blade.He was standing now, eyes wide, fists clenched, his whole body tight with rage and disbelief. Every pair of eyes in the room was on me—his parents, Maya, and even Nolan, who sat cluelessly on the rug, playing with one of Grey’s watches.I didn’t flinch. Not once. I just looked him dead in the eyes, my fingers twitching slightly as I reached for the thick white envelope on the table between us. I held it up for a moment, letting the weight of what I was about to do sink in—for all of us. Then I tore it open with a slow, deliberate rip.The silence was a living, breathing thing.“Here,” I said, unfolding the sheets and handing them to Grey. “Read it for yourself.”He hesitated. His hand trembled slightly as he took the papers from me, his knuckles turning white. His eyes scanned the text once… then again. His breathing grew shallow.Grey’s mother leaned forwa

Julia.The bar lights flickered like dying stars overhead. My heels clicked softly as I walked beside Santos, the music pulsing behind us like a heartbeat I didn’t want to listen to anymore.He didn’t say much at first—just reached for my hand, steady and firm, as if I was something fragile and flammable all at once. He led me to his seat near the back, away from the chaos, where the air didn’t reek of sweat and desperation.“Sit,” he said, his tone unreadable.I did, wordlessly, dropping into the cushioned seat like gravity had given up on me. Santos flagged the waitress without looking. “Get her whatever she wants. And keep it coming.”The drinks arrived fast—too fast. Vodka. Straight. I didn’t wait. I knocked back the first glass like it owed me money, and when the second came, I was already holding out my hand.Santos watched, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. “You planning to drown or set something on fire?”“Whichever one works faster,” I muttered, my voice thick.He leaned