บททั้งหมดของ SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes: บทที่ 41 - บทที่ 50

Chapter 42Rose stared at Stefan, the wedding invitation sample still clutched in her hand. The gold-embossed lettering seemed to mock her now."What do you mean, postponed?" Her voice came out too high, too tight.Stefan loosened his tie, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. "Just what I said. We need to push the wedding back. Until things stabilize with the company.""Push it back? Push it back?" The invitation crumpled in her grip. "We've sent save-the-dates to three hundred people. The venue is booked. The deposit is paid!""I know." Stefan moved to the bar, pouring himself a drink without offering her one. "My father made it a condition of his help with the company. No distractions. Full focus on saving what's left."Rose watched him toss back expensive scotch like it was water. The careful control she'd maintained all these years began to slip. "Your father doesn't control our lives.""He controls the board. He controls the family shares. Right now, he's the only thing

Chapter 44Camille's point of view The private investigation office smelled of coffee and secrets. I sat across from Martin Wells, retired NYPD detective turned high-end investigator, watching him spread photos across his desk like playing cards."Four affairs during her time in London," he said, tapping a grainy image of Rose entering a hotel with a man who wasn't Stefan. "Two with married executives. One with a British lord. One with her fashion mentor's husband."Something cold settled in my stomach as I picked up the photo. Rose, laughing, hand tucked possessively into the arm of a silver-haired man twenty years her senior. The timestamp showed a date just three weeks after I'd married Stefan."You're certain these are authentic?" I kept my voice steady, professional. Victoria had taught me never to show emotion during business dealings, even when the business was revenge.Wells nodded, sliding more photos toward me. "Verified by three different sources. Ms Lewis was... busy duri

Chapter 46Rose point of view I stared at my phone screen until the words blurred, reading the same headline for the twentieth time. "ROSE LEWIS: THE PRIVATE LIFE SHE DIDN'T WANT YOU TO SEE." Beneath it, that grainy photo of me entering the London hotel with Jonathan four years ago. His hand on my lower back. My face turned up to his, laughing at something he'd said.How? How had anyone found this? I'd been so careful.My boutique office, normally my sanctuary, felt suffocating now. Outside, I could hear my staff whispering, their usual respectful silence replaced by urgent murmurs. They'd seen the stories. Everyone had.Three major fashion sites had dropped my spring collection. Five influencers had canceled promotional contracts. Two department stores had "postponed" their orders. All within twenty-four hours.My empire, built so carefully brick by brick, was crumbling beneath my feet.The phone on my desk rang again. My publicity team, no doubt, with another useless strategy. I'd

Chapter 48Rose point of viewThe showroom that had once been my pride now felt like a tomb. Silent. Empty. Abandoned. I moved between the clothing racks, touching fabrics that represented thousands of hours of work. My spring collection, the one fashion critics had called "boundary-pushing" and "career-defining" just weeks ago, hung untouched, unsold, unwanted.My phone buzzed for the twentieth time that morning. Another cancellation, no doubt. Another buyer pulling orders. Another door slamming shut.I ignored it, continuing my lonely tour through what remained of my empire. The front desk sat vacant, I'd had to let Jessica go yesterday, along with three other staff members. The remaining team worked from home now, making desperate calls to salvage what business they could.The quiet made the memories louder. The launch party for this collection just two months ago. Champagne flowing. Music pulsing. Fashion editors praising my "visionary aesthetic." Buyers from luxury stores around

Chapter 50The Metropolitan Museum glowed with old-world grandeur, transformed for the annual Children's Heart Foundation gala. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over Manhattan's elite as they paraded in designer gowns and bespoke tuxedos, diamonds glittering like stars brought down to earth. Waiters moved silently through the crowd with champagne flutes balanced on silver trays, while a string quartet played Mozart in the background.Camille Kane stood near a display of ancient Greek sculptures, outwardly calm though her mind raced with calculations. This was her first major event without Victoria's watchful presence, a test of her ability to navigate the shark-infested waters of high society alone. She wore a midnight blue gown that whispered over marble floors as she moved, her surgical alterations and months of training giving her the confidence to meet curious stares with cool indifference."Ms. Kane," a silver-haired museum trustee approached, hand extended. "How wonderful t