Ch. 11..15: SCORNED EX WIFE Chapter 11-15

Chapter 11

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW

"Stanford University, class of 2016. Summa cum laude. Double major in Economics and Computer Science."

I stared at the diploma in my hands, the heavy paper embossed with gold seals and signatures. My name, Camille Kane written in elegant calligraphy across the center. A degree I never earned from a university I'd never attended. "How is this possible?" I asked, running my finger over the raised seal. It felt real. Everything felt real. Victoria sat across from me in her priva to-

ceiling bookshelves. A massive desk separated us, covered with documents spread out like puzzle pieces forming my new life. "Money opens many doors," she said, sliding another folder toward me. "People a at graduation. The woman in the pictures looked like me, but with subtle differences, straightened hair, confident posture, designer clothes I'd never owned.

"That's not me," I whispered, touching the smiling graduate's face.

“Digital manipulation. Quite good, isn't it? We had an expert blend your features with photos of a real Stanford graduate. Just enough to pass as you if no one looks too closely."

1 moved to the next document. Harvard Business School acceptance letter, followed by more transcripts, more doctored photos.

"MBA with focus on venture capital and

emerging markets, Victoria continued, watching me closely. "You were quiet but brilliant. Professors remember you as intensely private but insightful."

"And these professors will confirm this if asked?"

Victoria's smile was thin. "They already have. Three different background checks from various business publications have contacted them. All received the same carefully constructed memories of the remarkabl My head spun. The depth of the deception was staggering. An entire life constructed from nothing, solid enough to withstand scrutiny.

"What about before college? High school? Childhood?"

Victoria handed me another folder, thicker than the others. Your entire history, Private schooling

in Switzerland. Before that, exclusive boarding schools to shield you from media attention after I adopted you at age ten. Your biological parents, distant relations of mine died in a yacht accident off the coast of The folder comained school records, newspaper clippings of the accident,

adoption papers dated fifteen years ago. Photos of a young girl who resembled me but wasn't quite right another digital creation.

"The backstory explains your absence from public life," Victoria said. "You were my closely guarded secret, educated abroad to protect you from those who might exploit our connection. It also explains why you're only now stepping into the spotlight as my heir."

I closed the folder, suddenly needing air. The weight of this new identity pressed down, both gift and burden. Freedom and cage.

"There's more," Victoria said, gesturing to the remaining files. "Medical records. Tax filings. Property deeds for apartments in New York and Paris you've

supposedly owned for years. Even a driving record with a speeding ticket from 2018."

"The speeding ticket?"

"Authenticity requires imperfection. A life too clean raises questions."

I stood, moving to the window overlooking Manhattan. Sixty floors below, people scurried like ants, unaware of the fiction being written in this room. A fiction that would soon become my reality. "Social media?" I asked, knowing the answer already.

"Carefully curated accounts dating back eight years. Limited posts, tasteful photos from global locations, the exact digital footprint one would expect from a private heiress. Our team has been building them slov I turned back to her. "And what about the real me? Camille Lewis? What happens to her records, her accounts, her life?"

Victoria's face softened, just slightly. "Already managed. Your college records show an unremarkable student who never graduated. Your employment history reflects a series of administrative jobs with long gap A bitter taste filled my mouth. "Making my suicide more believable."

"Precisely." Victoria was unapologetic. "The more your disappearance aligns with expectations, the less anyone will question it."

She pressed a button on her desk phone. "Send in James with the final packet."

Moments later, a tall man in a dark suit

entered carrying a sleek laptop and several files. He nodded respectfully before setting them on the desk.

"The surveillance report, Ms. Kane," he said to Victoria. "And the social media monitoring as requested." "Thank you, James. That will be all."

He departed silently, closing the heavy door behind him.

Victoria opened one of the files, considering its contents before looking up at me. "Are you ready for this?" "Ready for what?"

"To see what your sister and ex-

husband have been doing since your... departure."

My stomach tightened. Part of me wanted to say no, to preserve the numbness I'd carefully cultivated since burying my

old life at the cemetery. But the stronger part, the part Victoria was nurturing, needed to see,

"Show the "

She handed me the Ille. Inside were surveillance photos, dozens of them, crisp and professional. Rose and Stefan walking hand in-

hand through an airport. Rose and Stefan dining at a rooftop restaurant. Rose wearing a white sundress on a beach, Stefan kissing her beneath an unbrella

"Their romantic getaway," Victoria explained unnecessarily. "Santorini. They left three days after your memorial service."

I stared at the images, waiting for pain that didn't come. Instead, a cold clarity washed over me. Theuto happy. Carefree. Unburdened by the woman they'd discarded.

"They didn't even wait a month," I said, my voice strange to my own ears.

"Grief has its own timeline," Victoria replied, her tone making it

we thought of their mourning period.

More photos showed them shopping, swimming, posing for selfies with the blue Mediterranean behind them. In each one, Rose looked triumphant. The victor who'd finally claimed her prize. "There's more," Victoria said, opening the laptop. "Social media monitoring"

The screen showed Rose's I*******m account, newly updated with she and Stefan photos. The caption beneath a sunset picture read: "Finding joy again after unimaginable loss, Camille would have wanted us t A laugh escaped me, harsh and unfamiliar. “She's using my 'death' for likes."

"Your father commented," Victoria noted, scrolling down. "So happy you've found comfort in each other. Camille is watching over you both.""

The room seemed to tilt sideways. My parents. The ones who should have questioned everything. Who should have demanded justice, investigation, answers. Instead, they were blessing this union built on bet "Keep scrolling," I said, needing to see it all, to burn it into my memory.

Chapter 12

Camille's point of view

Rose had posted a "tribute" to me, a carefully filtered photo of us as teenagers, her arm around my shoulders, her face glowing while mine was partly in shadow "Missing my angel sister every day. Your light wa Beneath it, dozens of sympathetic comments. Friends who'd never questioned her role in my marriage's end. Acquaintances eager to attach themselves to her grief narrative.

And Stefan, commenting with a simple heart emoji. The man who'd handed me divorce papers on our anniversary, now publicly mourning the wife he'd discarded

“Enough” I said finally, closing the laptop. "I've seen what I needed to see.

Victoria studied me carefully. "And what do you feel?"

I searched myself, digging for the hurt, the rage, the betrayal that should be there. Instead, I found something colder, more focused. Like looking at specimens in a lab.

Mothing, 1 answered honestly. "They're strangers performing in a play."

Victoria's smile was approving "Good Emotional detachment is essential for what comes next."

She gestured to the rest of the files on her desk. "Your new fe awaits, Camille. Elite education. Investment prodigy. My reclusive adopted daughter finally emerging totake her place in my empire."

I picked up my new passport, thumb brushing over the name embossed in gold. Camille Kane. A woman who'd never been hurt by Rose. Never been betrayed by Stefan. Never been overlooked by parents who "And if someone recognizes me? Someone who knew Camille Lewis?"

Victoria's expression turned serious. "Your new life must be impenetrable. If anyone connects Camille Kane to

Lewis, everything we've built collapses."

"How do we prevent that?"

"First, appetere" She gestured to my hair. "Tomorrow morning, our stylists will transform you. New cut, new elor, subtle changes that create distance from your former self."

I touched my long brown waves, mother piece of the old me about to disappear. "What else?

"Body Language Speech patterns. The way you walk, the way you hold a glass, the way you respond to questions. nord sessions with a behavioral coach who work with intelligence agencies. He'll help eliminat The thorough of the plan was both impressive and terrifying, Victoria had thought of everything, anticipated ety pratitial crack in toy raw identity.

"And stimportently," she continued, "limited exposure to

anyone who knew Camille Lewis. For at least the first year, you'll avoid any setting where you might encounter old connections."

"And der that?

Victor's gamed "After that, when your new identity is firmly established, when the world has accepted

Camille Kane without question, then we begin the real work"

She opened another file, this one containing financial reports, business plans, investment portfolios.

"Rose has expanded her boutique into a small fashion line. She's seeking five million in startup capital. Her current business plan is remarkably solid, I must admit."

I glanced at the numbers, the projections, seeing the dream my sister had likely been nurturing even while pretending to support my marriage. "And?"

"And Kane Ventures will be very interested in her proposal. So interested that I'm sending my protégée, you..... to handle the potential investment personally

The image formed in my mind instantly. Me, transformed, powerful, wealthy beyond imagination sitting across from Rose, holding her dreams in my hands. Her not recognizing the sister she'd betrayed, now pos "How long?" I asked. "How long until I can face her as Camille Kane?"

"One year. Perhaps eighteen months. Time for your 'death' to fade from memory. Time for your new identity to solidify, Time for you to master every skill you'll need to dismantle their world piece by piece." I nodded, a plan forming. Not just revenge, but justice. Not just destruction, but reconstruction. Taking back everything they'd stolen from me and more.

Victoria handed me a final document, a schedule that spanned months, detailing my transformation from Camille Lewis to Camille Kane. Language lessons. Etiquette training Finance courses. Self- defense classes. Public. speaking workshops. A complete rebuilding from the ground up.

"It begins tomorrow," she said. "5 AM. Personal trainer. 7 AM. Hair and styling. 9 AM. Diction coach. 11 AM. Press conference preparation. 2 PM. Official introduction to the board of Kane Industries." The day stretched before me, the first of many that would forge me into someone new. Someone stronger. Someone

capable of executing the justice I deserved.

Victoria opened her desk drawer and withdrew a small velvet box. "One last thing."

Inside was a pendant, a silver phoenix rising from flames, suspended on a platinum chain. Diamonds formed the bird's wings, catching light as she held it up.

"My gift to you. A reminder of what you're becoming."

She moved behind me, fastening the necklace around my throat. The pendant settled against my skin, cool at first, then warming

"From the ashes of what they did to you," she murmured, her hands resting briefly on my shoulders. "From the fire they thought would destroy you."

I touched the phoenix, feeling its weight against my collarbone. "Thank you."

Victoria returned to her desk, gathering the files into neat stacks. "Everything is in place. Your new identity, your education, your backstory. Now we need only set the pieces in motion."

She pressed another button on her phone. "Send in the surveillance team."

Moments

later, three men entered the office. James, who I'd seen earlier, and two others in similar dark suits. They carried tablets and folders, standing at attention until Victoria nodded for them to approach. "Updates," she commanded.

"Ms. Lewis and Mr. Rodriguez returned from Greece this morning," James reported, handing her his tablet.

"And the parents?" Victoria asked.

"The Lewises are maintaining appearances," another man reported. "Charity functions, social obligations. Mrs. Lewis has increased her anxiety medication. Mr. Lewis has been spending more time at his club th "Financial status?" Victoria directed this question to the third man.

"Lewis Industries stock has dropped eight percent since the memorial service. Initial sympathy has faded, investors are questioning Mr. Lewis's focus. The Rodriguez family business remains stable, though ther relationship to Rose."

Victoria nodded, satisfied. "Continue monitoring. I want updates daily. Focus particularly on Rose's business activities. Every investor she approaches, every meeting she takes."

"Yes, Ms. Kane."

They departed as silently as they'd

arrived, leaving me alone again with Victoria and the scattered remnants of my-

fabricated life.

Well?" she asked, studying my reaction. "Does this satisfy you? Knowing they're being watched? Knowing we see every move they make?"

I considered the question, searching my feelings. The photos should have hurt. The news of them in Greece should have enraged me. Instead, I felt strangely detached, as if watching characters in a film I'd alre "No," I answered honestly. "It doesn't satisfy me."

Victoria raised an eyebrow. "No?"

"Watching isn't enough. Knowledge isn't enough." I picked up the photo of Rose and Stefan on their vacation, her face glowing with triumph, his arm possessively around her waist. "They're happy. They believe I set the photo down, turning it face-

down on the desk. "I don't want reports about their lives. I want control over their lives. I want them to build dreams I can shatter. Create hopes I can destroy. Construct a future I can dismantle."

Victoria's smile

spread slowly, pride evident in her eyes. "And you shall have that opportunity. But first, you must become someone they would never suspect. Someone they would trust with their aspirations."

I looked at the stack of documents that created Camille Kane, the foundation of my new existence. "When do we begin dismantling their happiness?"

"The moment you're ready," Victoria promised. "The moment Camille Kane is real enough, solid enough to withstand their scrutiny.'

She gathered the surveillance photos, sliding them into a folder. "For now, focus on becoming. On

shedding the last traces of the woman they hurt. On building the woman who will destroy them."

I nodded, understanding the path before me. A long game. A patient revenge. Not the quick satisfaction of confrontation, but the deeper pleasure of orchestrated downfall.

"Tomorrow," I said, gathering my new identity papers. "We begin tomorrow."

Standing straighter, I faced Victoria with new determination. "I'm ready."

She nodded once, satisfaction evident in her eyes.

Chapter 13

CAMILLE'S POINT OF VIEW the

"Hold still, please."

Dr. Miranda Torres's gloved fingers touched my chin, turning my face gently to catch the light. Her dark eyes studied every curve and angle with the focus of an artist examining marble before the first chisel strike.

We sat in her private clinic, a discreet facility hidden behind unmarked doors in a luxury Manhattan building. The consultation room looked more like an upscale spa than a medical office, with soft lighting, exper single diploma on display. The credentials were understood, not advertised. Dr. Torres didn't need wall decorations to prove her expertise, her client list of celebrities, politicians, and billionaires spoke for itself. " 1 glanced at Victoria, who sat in a leather chair in the corner, tablet in hand, seemingly absorbed in emails but missing nothing.

"What exactly will you be doing?" I asked, trying to keep the nervousness from my voice.

Dr. Torres touched a screen on her desk, and a 3D model of my face appeared on the wall display. I stared at the digital version of myself, the me I'd been living with for the past five weeks of Victoria's transformation program. "We're not planning a complete overhaul," Dr. Torres explained, manipulating the image with practiced gestures. "That would be obvious, unnatural, and frankly, unnecessary. Instead, w "Your cheekbones, for instance," she continued. "Already well-

defined, but we can enhance them slightly

to create more dramatic shadows." The digital face shifted, the cheeks becoming more sculpted. "It changes how light hits your face, how others perceive your strength."

Victoria finally looked up. "Show the jaw adjustment as well."

Dr. Torres nodded, manipulating the image again. My jawline became slightly more defined, stronger.

"The goal isn't disguise," the doctor said, eyes meeting mine directly. "It's transformation. We're not erasing you, we're amplifying your power. People

see what they expect

to see, and no one looking for a victim will recognize a queen."

The words hit something deep inside me. No one looking for a victim will recognize a queen. Wasn't that exactly what Victoria had been teaching me these past weeks? That power came not just from wealth or "What about recovery time?" I asked, surprising myself with how clinical my own voice sounded. When had I started accepting this

as necessary rather than extreme?

"Two weeks for the Initial healing. Six weeks before you're camera ready for close-

ups. We'll use minimally Invasive techniques, fillers, fat transfers, thread lifts, and only minor surgical interventions."

She turned back to the display, continuing her overview. "Sabtle refinement of the nose bridge. Enhancement of the lips, not overfilled, just a slight increase in definition. row lift to open the eyes. And we'll adjust

+25 BONU

Chapter 13

slightly."

I watched my digital face transform bit by bit. Each change was small, almost imperceptible on its own. Together, they created someone new, someone who looked like me but somehow... more. Stronger. Sharper. A face that commanded attention rather than sought approval.

"When can you begin?" Victoria asked, setting aside her tablet.

Dr. Torres checked her calendar. "I've already cleared my schedule for tomorrow morning. Assuming blood work comes back normal today, we can proceed at 7 AM."

Tomorrow. So soon. My heart rate increased, a flicker of panic rising in my chest. This was happening. Really happening. Not just new clothes or a different hairstyle, but physical changes to my very face. Victoria must have noticed my reaction. "Do you need more time to consider?" Her tone was neutral, but I recognized the test beneath the question. Was I still committed? Still willing to do whatever necessary t I met her gaze steadily.

NO, Tomorrow is fine

Dr. Torres nodded, pleased. "Excellent. My nurse will draw blood now, and I'll provide detailed pre- operative instructions. No food after midnight, no alcohol for 24 hours before, no aspirin or anti- inflammatories for a week.

She rose from her chair, signaling the consultation was ending. "One more thing, Ms. Kane," she added, using my new name with practiced ease. This transformation is as much psychological

as physical. The woman you'll see in the mirror afterward will look different, yes, but how you carry her, how you embody her, that's what truly changes how the world sees you."

After blood draws and paperwork, James drove us back to Victoria's

mansion in silence. I stared out the window at passing Manhattan streets, trying to memorize my own face in the reflection. By this time tomorrow, it would be altered in ways I couldn't fully grasp yet. "You're quiet," Victoria observed as we pulled into the private drive.

"Just thinking"

"Having doubts?"

I turned to look at her directly. "Would you stop the procedures if I said yes?"

A hint of a smile touched her lips. "No. But your answer tells me I won't need to force the issue."

As always, she saw through me with unsettling clarity. I wasn't having doubts, not really. Just trying to process the finality of what was happening. Every step until now had been theoretically reversible Different But altering my face, that was permanent. A physical manifestation of my commitment to this new life, this new identity.

"Dr. Torres is the best," Victoria said as we entered the house. "She's discreet, skilled, and understands our objectives completely. She's also the only surgeon who has ever worked on my face."

This surprised ine, Victoria looked naturally elegant, her age visible but beautifully managed. I'd never suspected

cosmetic intervention.

"You've had work done?" I asked before I could stop mysel

She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Of course. Beauty is a weapon, Camille, Only fools refuse to sharpen their blades

Chapter 13

due to misplaced principles "

That night, I stood before my bathroom mirror longer than usual, studying the face that would change tomorrow. I traced my cheekbones, the line of my jaw, the curve of my lips. Features inherited from parents sister.

Would changing my outside help heal what was broken inside?

Sleep came fitfully, filled with dreams of faceless women and mirrors that showed strangers. I woke before my alarm, stomach tight with a mix of anxiety and anticipation.

James drove me to the clinic in pre-

dawn darkness. Victoria didn't accompany us this time, a board meeting required her attention. But her absence felt deliberate, another test to see if I would proceed without her oversight. Dr. Torres greeted me The next few hours passed in a haze of medications and murmured voices. I remembered the cool feel of antiseptic on my skin, the gentle pressure of Dr. Torres's hands marking surgical guidelines, the strange Then nothing.

I woke to dimmed lights and the soft beep of monitoring equipment. My face felt tight, pressure bandages wrapped around my head. A private nurse appeared immediately, offering ice chips for my dry throat. “E The recovery suite turned out to be a luxury apartment attached to the clinic, staffed with

private nurses

and equipped with everything needed for healing in complete comfort and secrecy. Victoria had arranged for my things to be brought from the mansion-

clothes, toiletries, even books I'd been reading.

t see.

For five days, I existed in a twilight state of medications, gentle care, and gradually reducing bandages. Dr. Torres visited twice daily, monitoring my healing with meticulous attention Special diets arrived on silve I still hadn't seen myself.

The mirrors had been covered when I arrived at the recovery suite, standard protocol, Dr. Torres explained, to prevent psychological shock during the most swollen phase of recovery.

On the sixth day, Dr. Torres arrived for her morning check with

Victoria in tow. Something in their expressions told me today was significant.

"The initial healing has progressed exceptionally well," Dr. Torres said, examining my face with clinical precision. "The swelling has reduced enough for a first look Are you ready?" My heart pounded as I nodded.