All Chapters of SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Chapter 22ROSE'S POINT OF VIEWThe shoe sat on Detective Ramirez's desk between us. A woman's size seven pump, once black, now gray-green from three months underwater. The heel had broken off, but the designer's red sole remained visible. Louboutin. Unmistakably Camille's."Is this your sister's shoe, Ms. Lewis?" Detective Ramirez asked, his tired eyes watching my reaction carefully.I reached for it with trembling fingers, a calculated tremor I'd practiced thatmorning. "Yes," I whispered, voice breaking on cue. "She wore these the last time I saw her. A gift from our parents for her birthday."The lie slid out smoothly. In truth, I'd given Camille those shoes when she landed her first job, playing the generous big sister while privately mocking her pathetic excitement over my hand-me-downs."Does seeing this personal item bring up any new thoughts about your sister's state of mind before her disappearance?"An interesting question. Not "accident" or "drowning," but "disappearance."

ROSE'S POINT OF VIEWThe law office of Berkman, Wade, and Associates smelled of leather, money, and superiority. I adjusted my black dress and studied the others in the conference room. Mom dabbed at her eyes with a monogrammed handkerchief. Dad stared blankly at the polished table. Stefan sat apart from us, face drawn and pale.All of us performing our assigned roles. The grieving family. The heartbroken ex-husband. A perfect tableau of loss.And why wouldn't we? Camille was dead. I knew that for certain. The men I'd hired hadn't just scared her as originally planned, they'd gone further, forcing her car off that bridge, watching it sink into the dark water. They'd called me afterward, panic in their voices. I'd paid them extra for their silence, then cut all contact.Martin Greene entered, carrying a leather portfolio. Dad's longtime lawyer looked appropriately grave as he took a seat."Thank you all for coming," he said. "With the court having legally declared Camille deceased in a

STEFAN'S POINT OF VIEWThe bourbon burned down my throat, a welcome fire against the cold emptiness spreading through my chest. I signaled the bartender for another. My fourth? Fifth? I'd lost count hours ago."You sure about that, buddy?" he asked, eyeing the empty glasses."Just pour the damn drink," I growled.The alcohol couldn't drown the words that had haunted me all day: Martin Greene reading Camille's will, her final message cutting through me like a blade.*"To my former husband, Stefan Rodriguez, I return the engagement ring that belonged to his grandmother, with the hope that next time he gives it, it will be with honesty and true devotion."*The ring sat heavy in my pocket, retrieved from the safety deposit box this morning. Grandmother Rosa's ring. Three generations of Rodriguez women had worn it before I'd placed it on Camille's finger, promising forever with words that turned to ash in my mouth.Thirty million dollars and the Cedar Hill estate. All of it to charity. Not

Chapter 28ROSE'S POINT OF VIEW"You've been distant lately," I said, stirring my coffee with practiced precision. Three clockwise turns, no more, no less. Morning sunlight streamed through the windows of Stefan's penthouse, our penthouse now, though I maintained my own apartment for appearance's sake.Eight months since Camille's "death." Eight months of nurturing Stefan through grief, providing just enough comfort to keep him dependent without allowing him to fully heal. A delicate balance, but one I'd mastered through years of subtle manipulation.Stefan looked up from his newspaper, dark circles beneath his eyes betraying another sleepless night. "Have I? Sorry. Work's been demanding."A lie. His family company practically ran itself, generations of wealth ensuring he needed to do little more than show up for board meetings and sign occasional papers. No, what kept him awake wasn't work but guilt. The gift that kept giving."I worry about you," I reached across the table, taking h

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW"Five minutes until your entrance, Ms. Kane."I nodded to James, Victoria's head of security who now shadowed me at all public events. My heartbeat quickened, but my face revealed nothing. One year of training had perfected my mask, the serene, confident expression of a woman born to wealth and power rather than thrust into it by circumstance and revenge.From my position in the private antechamber above the grand ballroom, I could observe without being seen. The Kane Industries Annual Charity Ball spread below me in a glittering panorama of wealth, influence, and carefully cultivated social connections. Three hundred of New York's elite in designer formal wear, diamonds catching light from crystal chandeliers, champagne flowing as freely as the gossip.All of them waiting for their first real glimpse of Victoria Kane's mysterious adopted daughter. The woman who had appeared seemingly from nowhere, who had closed the TechVault acquisition that business publicat