SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 5

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

The parking garage of the hotel where i lodged was too quiet. My heels echoed against concrete, each click

bouncing off empty cars and shadowed pillars. It was late, past midnight, but something felt wrong. Off.

My confrontation with Rose and my family had leftdrained, empty except for the cold satisfaction of finally

seeing behind her mask. | fumbled with my key fob, wanting nothing more than to get to my hotel room and plan

my next move.

A car door slammed somewhere in the darkness.

| stopped, listening. Nothing but the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of traffic.

My phone buzzed in my purse. Rose's number. | declined it, but not before noticing my signal had dropped to one

bar.

Perfect.

Footsteps behind me. Multiple sets.

| walked faster, cursing my choice of heels. The hotel's elevator was just around

the corner, past a row of concrete pillars. If I could just...

"Going somewhere, Mrs. Rodriguez?"

A man stepped out from behind a pillar. Tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in black. Professional. Two more

appeared behind me, cutting off my retreat.

Not a random attack, then.

"Actually, it's Ms. Lewis now." My voice stayed steady despite my racing heart. "And | have a dinner reservation,

so if you'll excuse me..."

The first man smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. "I'm afraid your plans have changed."

| gripped my purse tighter, feeling for the pepper spray I'd started carrying after signing the divorce papers. "Did

my sister send you? Or was it Stefan?"

"Our employer prefers to remain anonymous." He stepped closer. "Now, we can do this the easy way..."

| didn't let him finish. The pepper spray caught him directly in the eyes.

He screamed, stumbling backward. | ran, kicking off my heels as | sprinted for the elevator. The other two men

shouted, their footsteps thundering behind me.

Almost there. Just a few more...

Pain exploded in my scalp as someone grabbed my hair, yankingbackward. My purse went flying, contents

scattering across the concrete.

"That wasn't very nice." The first man's voice was rough with pain and rage. "Hold her."

Strong hands gripped my arms. | fought, kicking, scratching, but they were too strong. Professional. Trained.

"Our employer said you might be difficult." The first man wiped his streaming eyes. "Said you needed to learn

your place."

Rose. This had Rose written all over it. Her parting shot, making sure | understood just how powerless | really

was.

"If you're going to kill me," | spat, "at least have the guts to lookin the eyes."

He laughed. "Kill you? No, no. Just a message. A reminder of what happens to people who don't know when to let

go."

The first punch caughtin the stomach, driving the air from my lungs. | doubled over, gasping, but the men

holdingkeptupright.

"See, speople don't understand their role in life." Another blow, this one to my ribs. "Speople need to

be taught..."

| tasted blood. My vision blurred, pain shooting through my body. But | wouldn't cry. Wouldn't give Rose the

satisfaction.

"That's enough."

The voice cut through the garage like a whip crack. Female. Authoritative.

My attackers tensed. Through swollen eyes, | saw dark figures emerging from the shadows. Men in suits, moving

with military precision. And behind them...

A woman. Tall, elegant, probably in her fifties but with an ageless quality about

her. She wore a black designer suit that probably cost more than my car, her silver hair swept into a perfect

chignon.

But it was her eyes that caught me. Sharp, intelligent, and oddly... familiar.

"Ma'am," one of my attackers started, "our employer..."

"Is about to have a very bad day." The woman's voice was ice. "Release her. Now."

The hands holdingdisappeared. | slumped forward, pain shooting through my ribs.

"Secure them." The woman's command sent her men moving. My attackers didn't even try to run. They knew

better.

She walked toward me, heels clicking on concrete. Designer shoes. Probably cost more than my monthly rent.

"Camille Lewis." Not a question. She knew exactly who | was.

| tried to straighten, to maintain sdignity despite my split lip and torn dress. "Do | know you?"

Her eyes softened, just slightly. Like she was seeing something, someone else in my face.

"No." She gestured, and more men appeared with a medical kit. "But | knew someone very much like you, once.

Someone who also had to learn the hard way about trust and betrayal."

The world was getting fuzzy around the edges. Blood dripped onto my ruined dress, each breath sending knives

through my ribs.

"Who..." | swayed, darkness creeping in. "Who are you?"

She stepped forward, catchingas my knees buckled. This close, | could smell

her perfume, something expensive, unique. Something that tickled at the edges of my memory.

"Someone who's been watching you for a very long time, Camille." Her voice seemed to cfrom far away.

"Someone who's going to help you beceverything they tried to prevent."

The darkness was winning now. But before it tookcompletely, | heard her last words:

"After all... you look just like my daughter."

Then nothing but black.