Scorned Ex Wife Novel Camille Romane & Geschichten

I should have turned around and walked the other direction before she noticed me. But I was frozen. Staring at the woman who'd been sleeping with my husband. Who was now parading around Paris like she'd won some grand prize. Her eyes swept the street, probably checking to make sure the paparazzi were getting her good side and landed directly on me. I watched recognition flare in her expression. I watched her smile sharpen into something predatory. "Oh my God," she said loudly enough for the cameras to hear. "Is that Camille? Julien's ex-wife?"

He was right. Camille was intelligent, but she was not bold or confident. Marcus had been her backbone. But Veronica was different. She had audacity. She had boldness. If you want to get what you want in life, you have to be both. “So tell me about this Camille you think I look like. Who is she to you?” I asked. “She is Marcus’s ex wife. Apparently, there was a scandal, and they divorced. Since then, no one knows whether she is alive or dead. She is probably dead.”

“It’s with a heavy heart that I confirm my marriage to Amber Sullivan is over. I gave her everything. My love, my trust, my world. But it wasn’t enough. I never thought she’d betray me like this. I tried to save our marriage, as you can see in the restaurant video, but she had already moved on… with an old flame. She now lives with Liam Gray. I can’t begin to explain the pain of watching someone you love choose another man while you’re still fighting for them.” And just beneath his words was a picture—one taken from a few nights ago when Liam and I went bowling. He had his hand on my face, wiping away a stray hair, his expression soft, mine amused. But out of context? It looked intimate. It

He rolled up his sleeves and adjusted his waistcoat, every movement tight with anger. I followed, a heavy lump lodged in my throat. Bridget, the second wife, walked past and deliberately shoved her shoulder into mine. Evander moved into the living room, and the other wives arranged themselves elegantly on the couches, legs crossed, watching. I stood alone in the center, head bowed. "Shameless slut." "I'll give it to her though, never thought she had that kind of bravery." "No wonder he couldn't stay away from her." "Marie must be so ashamed. Soren left her for *this*."

Camilla Varela’s Point of View I never thought my life would turn out like this. I stood at the entrance of my own house, frozen and humiliated, as my husband Lucas and his mistress disappeared upstairs. Before they left, the woman had given me a disgusted look, her words still ringing in my ears.

I turned toward him so quickly my neck hurt slightly, I was so shocked that I nearly lost my balance, because out of every possible thing he could have done in this moment, confessing easily was the one thing I never expected. Camille let out a soft laugh from where she sat on the couch, crossing one leg over the other slowly while watching the scene unfold with obvious enjoyment sparkling in her eyes. “Oh dear,” she murmured sweetly. “The driver and the heiress. How utterly scandalous. Who would have thought the little princess had such… low tastes? Well,” she said lightly, lifting her wine glass slightly, “this just became significantly more interesting.” “Shut up,” I snapped immediately,

I didn’t think there would be a day when I would be under that gaze, pleading to be spared and forgiven. “Remember, Thelma. You betrayed what we shared first. I don’t have to be a good friend when you are a bad one.” I could hear a hint of disappointment in his voice, and it broke my heart. This wasn’t the plan. This wasn’t what I wanted to do. But as usual, Camille kept sabotaging my plan. How the fuck did she even keep escaping every trap laid for her? It was as though she knew I was playing a game and had been playing along. Did she get assistance from somebody else?

Some rumors even claimed that his wife was also currently in an adulterous affair with a man seven years younger. Camille dreaded it whenever the man visited. Every time she came into the office to bring them coffee, she could feel his beady eyes on her as she approached. She tried to ignore it at first, keeping a flat expression on her face, but she couldn’t help but feel disgusted when she caught his gaze on her chest, her skirt, and her legs. In fact, she couldn’t really remember a time when he looked at her face or her eyes. A perverted old man, that was what he was.

She turned her eyes toward Elena, her expression hardening until the lines around her mouth looked as ancient as the Citadel's masonry. "Romantic?" Camille let out a bitter laugh. "Do you think I wasn't jealous? Do you think I didn't resent every time Marcus chose you over me? I did." Her expression hardened. "But jealousy stopped being the most important thing the day I uncovered the truth. At first I fought because I wanted Marcus. I won't deny that. After discovering the master copy, I stopped fighting for a husband. I started fighting the treaty." She slammed her hand down onto the edge of the cedar table, her fingers spreading flat against the wood.

Cold air rushed over my skin, but I barely felt it. “Beta Camilla—Scandal in Northwind Pack.” I clicked on the first headline, my thumb trembling. A picture of Camilla appeared on the screen—her hair tangled, her face pale and hard. She didn’t look like the same woman who had once smirked at me across Victor’s arm. As I scrolled, my stomach tightened. “She seduced Alpha Damon,” someone wrote in the comments. “She tried to replace Luna Freya. She is nothing but a snake.” Another post had a grainy photo of Camilla with a man’s arm around her waist. “I was with her before Victor,” the caption read. “She’ll do anything to get ahead.”