SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 26

STEFAN'S POINT OF VIEW

The bourbon burned down my throat, a welcfire against the cold emptiness spreading through my chest. |

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," | growled,

The alcohol couldn't drown the words that had hauntedall day: Martin Greene reading Camille's will, her final

message cutting throughlike a blade.

*'To my former husband, Stefan Rodriguez, | return the engagement ring that belonged to his grandmother, with

the hope that next the 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, promisin Thirty million

dollars and the Cedar Hill estate. All of it to charity. Not a penny to her family. Nothing to Rose. Nothing to me.

Everything to help girls who had no one else to turn to

That was Camille. Always giving. Always thinking of others. Even in death.

My phone vibrated again. Rose. Her sixth call tonight. I silenced it without answering. Couldn't talk to her. Not

after watching calculation rather than grief cross her face at the will reading. All she cared about wa Had | really

left Camille for that? For someone who couldn't even fake proper sadness at her own sister's generosity?

The night air hitlike a slap as | stumbled out of the bar. | started walking, no destination in mind, until | found

myself at Riverside Park, where Camille and | had spent countless Sunday afternoons during our first year

together.

Before Rose cback from London. Before everything changed.

I sank onto a bench overlooking the water, the sriver that had swallowed Camille's car. Her body never

found. Just

a shoe, months later. A single, waterlogged reminder of the woman I'd discarded.

From my pocket, | withdrew the ring box. The diamond caught what little light penetrated the park's darkness,

winking atlike it knew all my secrets.

l

"I'm sorry," | whispered to the night, to Camille's ghost."m so damn sorry."

My phone buzzed. Rose again.

"Where are you?" Her voice sharp with irritation..

"out"

"You're drunk. Cover. We need to talk about what happened today." "No." The

word felt strange in my mouth. Had | ever denied Rose anything before?

"She did it to spite us," Rose hissed. "To punish us from beyond the grave."

The laugh that escapedsounded more like a sob. "Is that what you think? She was your sister, Rose. She

loved

Chapter 26.

you. Even after everything, she loved you."

| ended the call and turned off my phone. The alcohol had reached that treacherous plateau where emotions

amplify rather than dull.

A memory surfaced: Camille on our first date, describing her dreams of working with disadvantaged youth."

Everyone deserves a chance," she'd said, eyes bright with conviction. "Especially kids who start with I'd nodded

along, pretending her passion movedwhen really | was just calculating how long until | could reasonably

suggest we go back

to my place. God, I'd been shallow then. Had | ever truly seen her?

The realization hitwith physical force. I'd left the one person who truly lovedfor someone incapable of

loving anyone but herself.

Dawn foundat the Rodriguez family mausoleum. Inside, | traced the engraved letters of Camille's memorial

plaque, added despite my father's objections that she wasn't "blood."

"I got your message," | said to the empty air. "With the ring. You're right. | wasn't honest. Wasn't devoted. Never

deserved you."

I sank to the cold floor, grandmother's ring clutched in my fist. "You gave everything

to those girls. Never told anyone about your inheritance, just quietly planned how to use it to help others." My

voice cracked. "That's who you always were. And | threw you away for what? For Rose? For exciten Hours later, |

found myself outside the Lighthouse Foundation. Camille's charity. The organization she'd left her fortune to.

Young women entered and exited, swith hard eyes and defensive postures, others Inside, | met Dr. Elena

Reyes, the director. She showedthe plans for Cedar Hill -

a sanctuary for foster girls, carefully designed under Camille's guidance before her death.

"She wanted to create somewhere these young women could find not just practical help but emotional safety,"

Dr. Reyes explained. "Many of them have never known what that feels like."

"I'd like to help," | heard myself say. "Financially. Professionally. However I can."

"May | ask why?"

The question strippedbare. "Because it's what Camille wanted. Because it matters. Because maybe | can do

one thing right, even if it's too late for her to see it."

Dr. Reyes studiedcarefully. "Camille spoke often about second

chances. About how everyone

deserves the opportunity to bectheir best self. | think that included you, even at the end."

Outside again, my phone buzzed with messages from Rose and my father. The world I'd built, demanding | return

to my place in it. For the first tin my privileged life, | faced a choice that actually mattered.

Return to the path I'd been

walking, the path of least resistance, of shallow pleasures and empty achievements. The path that led to Rose,

to becoming my father, to living and dying without ever touching what was real. Or step off that smooth, well-

lit road onto something unknown but meaningful. Something that honored the woman I'd discarded, the love I'd

taken for granted.

| couldn't undo what I'd done to Camille. Couldn't rewrite our ending. Couldn't deserve, even in death, the love

she'd offered in life.

But maybe, just maybe, | could becsomeone who would have been worthy of her. Someone who gave

instead. of took Someone who built instead of destroyed

As | walked through the city that suddenly seemed full of possibilities I'd never considered, | made a silent

promise to the woman I'd lost. The woman who, even in death, had showna better way to live.

| would becsomeone she could have been proud of. Someone who deserved the ring in my pocket. Someone

who understood, finally, what mattered.

And | would start today.