Ch. 61..65: SCORNED EX WIFE Chapter 61-65
Chapter 61
Chapter 61
Rose paced her parents' living room, each step calculated to display distress. Tears streaked her makeup, deliberately mined before her arrival. The afternoon sum highlighted her red eyes and trembling hands
"I don't know what else to do," she sobbed. "Stefan barely talks to me. He sleeps at his family home every night."
Margaret Lewis watched with exhaustion. The past weeks bad stripped years from her face, first Camille's death, now Rose's relationship troubles,
"Maybe he just needs time," Margaret suggested wealdy, The Rodriguez company's collapse is a terrible shock."
"Time?" Rose's voice
cracked perfectly. "He talks about canceling the wedding, Mom! Everything we've
planned!"
Richard Lewis sat with newspaper forgotten, expression guarded. Since the scandal photos emerged, he'd grown quieter around Rose.
"Stefan's lost everything," he said finally. "His company, his estate, his reputation. Perhaps a wedding isn't his priority."
Rose knelt before her father, grabbing his hands-
a rehearsed move that looked spontaneous.
"Daddy, please, I can't lose him. Not after Camille." She pressed her face against his hands. "I can't bear another loss."
Richard stiffened at the mention of Camille, but his fingers curled around Rose's hands.
"What do you expect us to do? Kane Industries bought their debt. The Rodriguez company is finished."
Rose looked up hopefully. "You could invest enough to save the Seattle branch. That's all Stefan needs, just enough to keep that plece alive." Margaret gasped. "Richard, you can't possibly..."
"It would take millions," Richard interrupted, though he didn't immediately refuse. "Eor what? A struggling shipping
route that's barely profitable?"
"For family, Daddy, Stefan would be family once we're married. Rodriguez and Lewis, joined through us."
She watched her father calculating behind his eyes.
"Even if I wanted to help, Stefan doesn't seem eager to marry you. Why would I invest without guarantee?"
Rose's heart beat faster. This was her opening "Make it a condition. Help save the Seattle branch if Stefan agrees to the wedding. This fall, as planned." Margaret stood. "Outrageous! You can't buy yourself a husband, Rose!"
"It's not buying," Rose protested. "It's saving what matters to both of us. Our future. The company his grandfather built."
"And when he resents you for forcing his hand this way?"
Rose turned, real anger flashing. "Forcing? He loves me! He's always loved me, even when he was with..." She stopped abruptly.
Silence filled the room. Camille's ghost hovered between them.
"Even when he was with Camille," Margaret finished softly, "Is that what you meant?"
Rose looked away. "That's not what I meant."
"Sometimes I wonder if you ever truly mourned your sister at all."
For a moment, genuine emotion broke through, not grief, at fury at being questioned.
"How dare you? I loved
Camille more than anyonel Larranged her memorial service. I established the foundation in her name. I'm the one who "
"Who started dating her husband when she was still married to him? And who announced the relationship to the world after her death?," Margaret said quietly,
Rose stepped back as if slapped. This wasn't how the conversation was supposed to go.
"That's not fair," she whispered, real tears replacing manufactured ones. "We found comfort in shared grief."
Richard moved between them. "Enough. This isn't helping anyone."
Rose collapsed into her father's arms. "I can't lose him too, Daddy. Sometimes I think about joining Camille, about ending this pain..."
Margaret gasped. "Rose! Don't say such things!"
It was her ultimate manipulation, the suggestion of suicide, implied clearly enough to horrify them.
"We'll figure something out," Richard soothed, stroking her hair. "No one's going to lose anyone else."
Rose continued sobbing, but inside, triumph bloomed. Her father's resistance was crumbling.
"I just want to be happy,"
she whispered. "To be Stefan's wife. To give you grandchildren someday."
Rose let her sobs subside, then looked up with swollen eyes "Will you talk to Stefan? Tell him Lewis Industries can help save what's left of his company? Richard exchanged a look with Margaret. "I'll speak with him. But I'm not promising anything yet. I need to see the numbers."
"And the condition?" Margaret asked. "That he marry you is exchange for financial rescue?"
Rose straightened her shoulders. "Not that crudely. Just understanding that joining our families would be part of the arrangement. A business marriage." Richard nodded. "I'll speak with him tomorrow."
As Rose prepared to leave, her mother touched her arm. "Do you truly love Stefan? Beyond his name, his connections, his standing?"
The question caught Rose off guard. Did she love Stefan? Had she ever loved anyone beyond what they could do for her?
"Of course I do," she replied easily. "Why else would I fight so hard?"
Margaret's eyes lingered "Make sure you're not confusing possession with love, dear. They're not the same thing.
Outside in her
car, Rose's facade crumbled. She slammed her hands against the steering wheel, frustrated. Her mother's questions had unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.
"It doesn't matter," she muttered. "As long as Daddy talks to Stefan”
Her phone buzzed with Stefan's text: Not coming home tonight. Staying at the office.
Not "our home" or "the apartment," just "home." As if he was already planning his exit.
Fear gripped Rose. She was losing him, desplie everything she'd done, manipulating Camille's marriage, orchestrating opportunities to comfort him when her sister "disappeared," building a narrative of fated lo
And Rose Lewis did not lose. Ever.
She dialed Stefan repeatedly until he finally answered.
"What is it, Rose? I'm busy."
"Daddy's going to help," she blurted. "Lewis Industries can invest in the Seattle branch. Save what's left of the Rodriguez legacy."
A long silence followed.
"And what does your father want in return?"
Rose gripped the phone tighter. "Just family loyalty. The wedding to proceed as planned"
Another silence.
"So that's it. A business transaction.
Your father saves my company, I marry his daughter."
"It's not like that..."
"Isn't it?” His bitter laugh cut through. "Tell me, Rose, was any of it ever real?"
Genuine panic welled up in Rose, not grief, not love, but fear of losing her prize.
"All of it," she insisted. "Every moment. I love you, Stefan. I always have, even when...."
"Even when I was married to your sister," he finished flatly
"So meet with Daddy," she pressed. "Tomorrow. Hear what he's offering."
"And if I refuse? If I'd rather lose my company than marry you this way?"
The question hit like a slap.
"You don't mean that," she whispered "You're upset. Confused "
"Not as shocked as discovering the woman I
loved would try to buy me through her father's money.”
"I'm not buying you!" Rose's control slipped. "I'm saving you! Saving us!"
"Tell your father I'll meet him," Stefan said finally. "But I not promising anything"
He ended the call. Rose stared at the phone, rage and fear battling inside her. Stefan was supposed to
be grateful, not disgusted.
"He'll come around," she told herself. "Once he sees there no other way...'
But doubt crept in. What if Stefan refused? What if all her careful planning had been for nothing?
By the time Rose reached her apartment, a new determination had hardened. If Stefan wouldn't willingly accept, she would force his hand directly
She studied her tear-
stained reflection and took photos of herself looking distraught. Then she drafted a message: I can't do this anymore. Can't keep fighting for someone who doesn't want me. Maybe everyone would be better off
Her finger hovered over the send button. The message was
explicit enough to frighten him, vague enough for deniability later.
But something stopped her. Some voice whispering that this was too far, even for her.
Rose deleted the draft message. Not yet. That cand would remain in reserve
Instead, she removed her makeup, wiping away the deliberate distress. As the tears disappeared, her true face emerged, calculated, controlled, determined."
Her phone buzzed with a message from her father: *Arranged meeting with Rodriguez tomorrow, 10 AM. Numbers look workable if structured as joint venture.*
Rose smiled at her reflection, triumph replacing doubt. Her father was already preparing the financial rescue.
Stefan would resist. His pride was wounded, his trust shake. But men like him were predictable, Family legacy mattered more than personal feelings. The Rodriguez name would ultimately outweigh his doubts about her methods.
And if not... Rose glanced at her phone, remembering the deleted message. There were always other ways to ensure compliance. Other buttons to push.
"Game on, Stefan," she whispered. "Let's see how much your pride is really worth."
Chapter 62
Chapter 62
The charity auction for the Children's Medical Research Foundation had transformed the Westmore Hotel's grand ballroom into a glittering showcase of wealth. Crystal chandeliers cast golden light over Manhat Camille stood near the silent auction display, maintaining the practiced smile Victoria had taught her. Her midnight blue gown and Alexander's diamond necldace completed the image of Camille Kane, heiress to Inside, her nerves twisted like live wires. The event coordinator had just informed her that Richard and Margaret Lewis had arrived, her parents, though they had no idea their "dead" daughter stood in the same "Ms. Kane," Rebecca murmured, appearing at her side. "They've been seated at table twelve, directly across from the stage. Would you prefer to move your placement?"
Camille sipped champagne, buying seconds to compose herself. "No. Victoria would want me to remain as planned "
"Victoria would want you to avoid unnecessary risks," Rebecca countered.
"Perhaps. But Victoria isn't here."
Rebecca nodded. "I'll stay close, just in case."
As her assistant moved away, Camille allowed her gaze to drift across the room, finding her parents. The sight hit harder
than expected. Nineteen months since she'd last see them, the night she'd confronted Rose about Stefan. Her mother looked older, shadows beneath her eyes that makeup couldn't conceal Her father stood str backed as always, but new lines marked his face. Was it grief that had aged them? Or Rose's scandals?
A waiter passed with champagne. Camille exchanged her empty glass for a full one, steadying her trembling hands. She should move away. Should minimize the risk of direct interaction. Should protect the reve Instead, she drifted closer, drawn by something stronger than caution. Not love, that emotion had burned away months ago. Not forgiveness, that was beyond her now. Perhaps simply curiosity about what had I She hadn't counted on her mother's uncanny ability to sense when someone was watching. Before Camille could retreat, Margaret turned, eyes sweeping the crowd before settling directly on her. Their gazes lo No recognition showed in Margaret's face, only polite interest. But as Camille held her stare a heartbeat too long, something shifted in her mother's expression. A slight furrowing of her brow. A tilt of her head. T Camille turned away first, pulse racing. Too much risk. She moved toward a display of artwork, absorption in a landscape painting she barely saw.
pretending
"Beautiful brushwork," a voice observed beside her. "The artist captures light in a way that reminds me of Turner.
Camille's blood froze. Her mother's voice. So achingly faminar. She turned slowly, face composed in a mask of polite interest.
Chapter 12
"You have a good eye," she replied, amazed at how steady her voice remained.
Margaret Lewis stood closer than Camille had realized, elegant in a navy dress that brought out her blue eyes, eyes that had once looked at Camille with love, then disappointment, then grief. "Margaret Lewis," her mother introduced herself, extending a hand. "I don't believe we've met, though you look remarkably familiar "
Camille accepted the handshake, the brief contact sending lightning through her body.
"Camille Kane," she responded, the name strange on her tongue when speaking to someone who had once known her by another name entirely.
"Ah! I've seen your photos in the business journals. You've made quite an impression since your public debut."
Camille smiled, Victoria's coaching allowing her to maintain the conversation while emotional earthquakes shook her internal landscape. "I've had excellent guidance."
"Your mother is certainly a force of nature. My husband and I have admired her business acumen for years, though we've never had
the pleasure of working directly with Kane Industries."
The mention drew Camille's gaze past her mother's shoulder. Richard Lewis was watching them, expression unreadable from this distance.
"Perhaps that will change in the future," Camille said carefully. "Kane Industries is always seeking new partnerships."
Margaret tilted her head slightly, that puzzled look returning. "Forgive me for saying so, but you remind me of someone. I can't quite place who."
Danger. Victoria's voice echoed in her memory: "If anyone from your
past life shows unusual interest or mentions similarity, end the interaction immediately."
But some reckless part of her couldn't resist pushing further.
"I've been told I have one of those faces," Camille said lightly. "Familiar without being recognizable."
"No, it's more specific than that." Margaret studied Camille's features. "Something about your expressions. The way you tilt your head when listening. It's quite striking
Camille's heart pounded loudly. Dr. Torres had changed her appearance, sharpened cheekbones, refined her nose, altered her jawline, but no surgeon could change the mannerisms engrained since childhood. "Love." Richard Lewis appeared beside
his wife. "The Hendersons are looking for us."
His eyes met Camille's briefly, recognition completely absent. The man who had taught her to ride a
bike, who had checked her homework, who had walked her down the aisle, looked at her as if she were a perfect stranger.
It cut deeply.
"Richard Lewis," he introduced himself with a quick handshake. "I see you've met my wife."
"Ms. Kane is Victoria Kane's daughter," Margaret explained, still studying Camille. "The one everyone's been talking about."
"Ah, of course. Your work with the TechVault acquisition was impressive. Quite a debut into the corporate world."
"Thank you," Camille responded, grateful for the shift to professional territory. "Though much of the credit belongs to the team behind the scenes."
"Modest as well as accomplished," Margaret observed with smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "A rare combination
these days."
Something in het mother's tone raised warning flags. That wasn't social pleasantry, it was assessment. Margaret might not recognize her daughter, but something about Camille Kane had triggered her curiosity. Rebecca materialized at Camille's side. "Ms. Kane, Mr. Harington is asking about your bid on the Wyeth painting. He seems quite determined to outbid you."
י
A perfect exit. Camille turned to her parents with her practiced
smile. "Duty calls. It was a pleasure meeting you both"
"The pleasure was ours," Richard replied automatically, already scanning the room.
But Margaret caught Camille's arm lightly. The unexpected contact sent a shock through Camille's system, how many times had her mother reached for her exactly this way?
"I hope we'll have a chance to speak again," Margaret said quietly. "Perhaps
at the Metropolitan Museum gala next month? I believe Kane Industries usually sponsors a table."
Not social politeness but a deliberate attempt to establish another meeting. Another opportunity to solve the puzzle Camille représented.
"Perhaps," she managed, withdrawing her arm. "Though my schedule stays rather unpredictable."
Margaret nodded, apparently satisfied. "Until next time, then "
As Camille walked away, she felt her mother's gaze following her. Rebecca kept pace beside her, murmuring low. "That was dangerous, Victoria would not have approved." "Victoria isn't here," Camille repeated, though her earlier confidence had faltered. "And sometimes risks yield valuable information."
"What information did you gain besides confirming they don't recognize you?"
"My mother senses something, Not recognition, exactly. More like... familiarity she can't place."
"All the more reason to avoid further contact," Rebecca pointed out. "If she begins asking questions..."
"She already has questions," Camille interrupted. "The question is what she'll do with them."
The evening continued, Camille performing her role flawlessly, bidding on auction items, making small talk
with business contacts, donating an additional fifty thousand dollars. Throughout it all, she maintained awareness of her parents, careful to keep adequate distance.
They left early, her father checking his watch with familiar impatience. As they made their way toward the exit, Camille saw her mother pause, turning to scan the room one last time. Their eyes met briefly across the crowd. Margaret offered a small, puzzled smile before allowing her husband to guide her out. That smile, so familiar, so maternal despite the absence of recognition, sent unexpected pain throu "Are you alright?" Rebecca asked, noticing the momentary slip in Camille's expression.
"Fine," Camille replied automatically. "Just tired."
Later, in her private car, Camille finally allowed herself to process the emotions she'd carefully contained. Seeing her parents up close. Hearing their voices. Speaking with them as a stranger while memories of
It should have felt triumphant, standing before them as Camille Kane, wealthy and powerful. They hadn't recognized the daughter they'd sacrificed for Rose's happiness. Hadn't seen past the surgical alterations Instead, she felt hollow. Empty in a way that Victoria's coaching hadn't prepared her for
Her phone buzzed with a text from Alexander: 1 heard the Lewis family attended
tonight. Are you okay?
How did he always know? How did he always sense exactly what was happening beneath her controlled exterior?
*Fine, she texted back, the lie automatic. Then, surprising herself: No. Not really.
His response came immediately: "Sometimes the most painful wounds are the ones that don't bleed. I'm here if you need to talk.
Camille stared at the message, throat tight with emotions she'd thought safely buried. Her parents hadn't recognized her. Had spoken with her, and seen only Camille Kane, Victoria's mysterious daughter, a bus
It should have hurt less than Stefan's destruction or Rose's betrayal. They were her parents, but they'd made their choice long ago, chosen the daughter who played their social games perfectly over the one who never quite fit their expectations.
So why did this cut so deeply? Why did her mother's puzzled almost-
recognition hurt more than if she'd shown no interest at all?
The car
approached Victoria's mansion, security lights illuminating the manicured grounds. Inside the massive entry hall, silence greeted her. Victoria was in Tokyo. The house staff had retired. For the first time in month She moved to the study, pouring herself a measure of expensive scotch. The familiar burn helped steady her nerves as she sank into
a leather chair, kicking off her heels with relief.
Victoria would be furious about tonight's interaction. Would see it as an unnecessary risk to their carefully constructed narrative. To the revenge plan they'd executed with precision
But something about seeing her parents about her mother's puzzled scrutiny had awakened questions Camille had
buried. What
was she really achieving with this elaborate revenge? Was destroying
Stefan's company and Rose's reputation truly healing the wounds
they'd inflicted? Or was she simply creating new scars to layer over the old ones?
Her phone buzzed again. Alexander: *Sometimes returning to who we were means facing those who knew us then. It doesn't mean you're weak. It means you're human.
Camille set
down her glass, his words touching something raw inside her. Victoria had trained her to be perfect, untouchable, a weapon of precise destruction. Alexander seemed to see the human beneath, the woman still She scrolled through her phone to the secret album she rarely viewed. Photos from before, Camille Lewis smiling, with highschool friends. Camille Lewis on her wedding day, Camille Lewis with her parents at h A family that no longer existed. Parents who now chatted politely with the stranger their daughter had become. Margaret's words echoed: "You remind me of someone. I can't quite place who." What would happen if her mother did place it? If she looked at Camille Kane one day and suddenly saw Camille Lewis beneath the surgical alterations? Would there be joy at discovering her daughter lived? Hu Camille closed the photo album. Tonight had opened doors better left shut, awakened questions she wasn't ready to answer. Victoria would say she was losing focus, allowing sentiment to cloud their revenge s Perhaps she was right.
But as Camille moved through the silent mansion toward her suite, she couldn't shake the image of her mother's puzzled expression. The feeling that somewhere, buried beneath years of manipulation and favo In her bathroom, Camille removed her makeup, studying her transformed features in the mirror. Dr. Torres
had done masterful work, the changes
subtle enough to appear natural while significant enough to create a new identity.
And yet
As she removed the last traces of mascara, Camille could almost see Camille Lewis peering through Camille Kane's eyes. The woman she'd been still lived somewhere inside the woman she'd become.
She pulled out her phone again, staring at Alexander's message. He alone seemed to understand the war raging beneath her carefully maintained façade.
*You were right, she texted finally. *Facing the past is harder than I expected.*
His response came immediately: The phoenix rises from
ashes, but first it must acknowledge what burned. Sleep well, Camille. Tomorrow brings
new choices."
As she slipped into bed, Camille wondered what choices tomorrow might bring. Whether the glimpse of her parents would strengthen her resolve for revenge or weaker it. Whether her mother's puzzled recognit
And what she would do if Margaret Lewis looked at her someday and said the words that would
shatter everything: "Camille? Is it really you?"
Sleep claimed her before she found an answer, dreams filling with her mother's searching eyes and the whispered question that followed her into darkness: "Why do I know you?"
Chapter 63
Chapter 63
Camille's point of view
The morning sun filled my home office, bathing the pristine white furniture in golden light
that should have been soothing Instead, I stared at my tablet screen, my chest so Eight I could barely breathe. The headline of the Wall Street Journal's business section screamed at me in hold black letters:
**LEWIS INDUSTRIES TO RESCUE RODRIGUEZ SHIPPING WITH $100M INVESTMENT**
The subheading twisted the knife deeper:
**Wedding Bells to Follow: Rodriguez-
Lewis Union Cements Business Partnership**
My coffee cup crashed to the floor as I stood abruptly, hot liquid splattering across imported marble tiles. I didn't care. The words on the screen burned through my mind, erasing months of careful planning, of sy "No," I whispered, my voice trembling with emotion I rarely
allowed myself anymore. "No, no,
NO!!!
I scrolled through the article, each paragraph feeding the fire growing inside me.
*In a surprising turn of events, Lewis Industries has announced a $100 million investment in Rodriguez Shipping's Seattle operations, rescuing the century-
old family business from complete collapse following Kane Industries' recent debt acquisition.*
"Sources close to both families confirm that the business alliance will be strengthened by personal ties, with an October wedding planned between Stefan Rodriguez and Rose Lewis, sister of the late Camille Le Rodriguez. "This partnership represents not just a business opportunity, but the joining of two family legacies," Richard Lewis stated in this morning's press conference. "Sometimes tragedy can lead
to unexpected new beginnings."* The tablet flew from my hands before I realized I'd thrown it, shattering against the far wall in a spray of glass and electronics. The destruction wasn't enough. Nothing could qui After everything I'd done. After buying his company's debt. After taking his family home. After systematically destroying everything the Rodriguez name stood for.
Stefan was still choosing Rose. Still moving forward with the life they'd planned while I was supposedly dead at
the bottom of that river.
And my parents - MY PARENTS were funding it all.
My intercom buzzed, Rebecca's voice careful and measured
"Ms. Kane? I assume you've seen the news. Victoria is on the secure line."
I forced myself to take three deep breaths before responding. "Send the call through."
Victoria's face
appeared on my wall screen, her expression controlled but fury evident in the tightness around her eyes. She was in her Tokyo hotel suite, the skyline visible behind her through floor- to-ceiling windows.
is unacceptable," she said without greeting. "All our careful work, undone by a simple investment deal." "They can't do this," I replied, pacing the length of my office. "We own the debt. We control the assets. Ho "They're not buying the company," Victoria
interrupted. "hey're creating a new entity, using the few assets we couldn't touch, primarily the Seattle operations we thought were too worthless to bother with. Your father has found a legal workaround that kee The word "father" sent fresh pain shooting through me. Richard Lewis was funding the revival of Stefan's business, cementing Rose's triumph, all while having no idea he was destroying his supposedly dead da "The wedding announcement wasn't coincidental," Victoria continued, her analytical mind already dissecting the strategy. "It's a deliberate message to investors and clients, a statement of confidence in the new "I want it stopped." My voice came out harder than I'd ever heard it. "All of it. The investment. The business alliance. The wedding. I want it all burned to the ground."
Victoria studied me through the screen, her gaze softening slightly, a rare glimpse of the maternal concern she typically kept hidden beneath her formidable exterior. "This is why I've always cautioned against er "Of course I'm taking it personally!" I slammed my hand against my desk, welcoming the physical pain. "It 15 personal. It's MY revenge they're unraveling. MY justice being denied."
"Your revenge isn't complete, "Victoria sald calmly. "This is merely an unexpected development requiring tactical adjustment."
Tactical adjustment?" I laughed, the sound sharp and bitter even to my own ears. They're getting MARRIED, Victoria. With my parents' blessing and financial support. After everything they did to me. After every “And they will still pay. Perhaps more completely than before.” Victoria leaned closer to the camera, her expression intensifying. “This development presents new opportunities. They're rebuilding, investing emot Her logic should have calmed me. Should have helped me see past the raw hurt to the strategic implications. Instead, I felt something crack inside, some final piece of the woman I'd once been breaking away "I feel like everything we've done was for nothing," I said, collapsing back into my chair. "They still win in the end"
Victoria's expression shifted, calculation replacing concern. "Perhaps we've been too... indirect in our approach." A small, dangerous smile curved her lips. "We need to create a scandal that will completely destroy your sister Rose."
I looked up sharply. "What kind of scandal?"
"The kind that would make your parents reconsider their support. The kind that would make Stefan question his choice." Victoria tapped her fingers against her desk, a habit I knew indicated she was carefully c
next words.
My breath caught. "That is a good plan"
Recently, I acquired proof and witnesses of all of Rose scandals" Victoria's expression was unreadable. “I held it in reserve, uncertain if such a personal attack would serve our larger goals. But now..." "Now it's exactly what we need," I finished, a cold clarity replacing the emotional turmoil I'd felt moments before. "Evidence that Rose is not a saint."
"Show me," I demanded, leaning toward the screen. "Show me what you have."
Chapter 61
"When I return tomorrow. This isn't something to discuss over even our most secure channels." Victoria's expression softened again, nearly imperceptible but there for those who knew how to read her. "For now "I'm not in the mood for smiling at socialites. "
"Nevertheless, you will attend." Victoria's tone brooked no argument, maternal authority overlaying business command. "Now more than ever, Camille Kane must appear unaffected by Rodriguez Lewis affairs. A After ending the call, I showered and dressed mechanically, donning a pale blue suit that Rebecca had selected for the luncheon. My outward appearance perfectly matched what was expected of Victoria Kane Inside, I was burning
My car was waiting when I descended the mansion's grand staircase. James stood by the open door, his expression professionally blank as always.
"The Botanical Gardens, Ms. Kane?"
"No," I decided suddenly. "Take me to the Rodriguez estate first."
James hesitated, unusual for him. "Ms. Kane, the property is no longer.
"I know it's no longer in Rodriguez hands. I know we own it I just... need to see it."
He nodded, closing my door before sliding into the driver's seat. As the car wound through exclusive
neighborhoods where Manhattan's elite maintained their family compounds, I stared out the window without really seeing the passing scenery.
The Rodriguez estate had been in their family for five generations. I'd lived there for three years as
Stefan's
wife, trying desperately to fit into spaces that had never truly welcomed me. Now it stood empty, another asset in Kane Industries' portfolio, another piece of the Rodriguez legacystripped away.
Except now Stefan was rebuilding that legacy. With Rose by his side. With my parents' money and blessing.
The car slowed as we approached the private road leading to the estate. James paused at the security gate, showing identification to the guard Victoria had stationed there.
"We're just driving past," he explained, "Ms. Kane wanted to view the property."
The guard nodded, raising the barrier to allow us through.
The driveway curved through manicured grounds, revealing the mansion gradually as we approached. Colonial architecture, white columns, windows
gleaming in the morning sunlight. It looked exactly as I remembered from my years living there, except for the stillness. No staff moving about the grounds. No cars in the circular drive. Just empty perfection, pre "Stop here," I instructed as we reached the front of the house.
"Would you like to go inside, Ms. Kane? I have the access codes."
"No." I wasn't ready for that, wasn't sure I'd ever be ready to walk through rooms filled with memories of my failed marriage. "This is close enough."
Through the car window, I studied the home that had never truly felt like mine despite my best efforts. Stefan's mother had
made sure of that, with her constant remarks about traditions I didn't understand and standards [ couldn't quite meet. Even the furniture had belonged to previous Rodriguez wives, selected and arranged Came generations before I arrived.
Rose would fit perfectly here. Would know exactly how to play the role of Rodriguez wife, just as she'd always excelled at being the perfect Lewis daughter.
The thought sent fresh pain spiraling through me.
"They're not moving back here," I said aloud, decision crystallizing
as I spoke "Even if the new business succeeds. Even if the wedding proceeds. They will never live in this house again."
James met my eyes in the rearview mirror, "What would you like done with the property, Ms. Kane?"
Tconsidered the question, looking at the grand house that represented everything the Rodriguez name stood for, tradition, wealth, unbroken lineage.
"Sell it,” I said finally, "Not to another family. To developers, I want it torn down, the land divided into smaller lots "
James nodded, making a note on his phone. He didn't question the decision that would erase a historic property, didn't comment on the destructiveness of the order. Victoria hired people who followed instructio "Now the Botanical Gardens," I said, turning away as we pulled back down the driveway. "I have a charity luncheon to attend."
Chapter 64
Chapter 64
Camille's point of view
For the next three hours, I performed flawlessly. Smiled at the right people. Made appropriate small talk. Donated a generous sum when the fundraising total was announced. No one looking at Camille Kane wo composed exterior.
No one except Alexander Pierce, who appeared at my elbow as I waited for my car afterward.
"You're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think," he said quietly, falling into step beside me.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"The Rodriguez Lewis announcement." He studied my profile as we walked. "It wasn't part of your plan."
I stopped, turning to face him fully. "How do you always know? What's happening in my life, what I'm feeling, how do you always seem to be one step ahead?"
Instead of answering, he offered his arm. "Walk with me. The gardens are beautiful this time of year."
Against my better judgment, I accepted, allowing him to guide me along a stone path that wound through flowering shrubs and carefully tended beds.
"I had a sister once, she is not my biological sister but my nanny's daughter who i took like a kid sister," Alexander said after several minutes of silence. "Younger. Brilliant. Full of life and promise."
The unexpected personal revelation caught me off guard. Alexander Pierce rarely spoke
about himself, his past a carefully guarded mystery despite his public business success.
"What happened to her?" I asked, curiosity momentarily displacing my own troubles.
"She married a man who seemed perfect. Handsome. Wealthy. Well-
connected." His voice remained casual, but I felt tension in the arm linked with mine. "He was also controlling. Manipulative. Eventually abusive, though she hid it well,"
We reached a secluded bench overlooking a pond. Alexander guided me to sit, then took the space beside me, close but not touching
"When she finally tried to leave him, his family closed ranks. Used their connections to freeze her assets. Threatened to destroy her professionally if she went public with abuse allegations. Offered a settlement compared to what she was entitled to
The story resonated uncomfortably with my
own experience, not the abuse, but the sense of powerful families protecting their own, of money and influence used as weapons.
What did she do?" I asked softly.
Alexander's s eyes fixed on the distant water. "She took the settlement. Started over. Built her own success, piece by careful piece." His mouth curved in what might have been ride. "She's running a tech compa "You helped her."
"Every way I could." He turned to look at me directly, his gaze more intense than usual. "I understand the need for justice, Camille. The hunger to make those who hurt you pay for what they've done."
The simple acknowledgment of my feelings unlocked something inside me. With Victoria, emotional reactions. always had to be channeled into strategic advantage. Alexander simply accepted the raw hurt drivi "They're getting everything they wanted," I said, the words spilling out before I could contain them. "The business alliance. The society wedding. My parents' blessing. It's like I never existed at all." "You exist." Alexander's hand covered mine on the bench between us. "More powerfully than they could possibly imagine."
"But they don't know that!" The frustration that had been building all day finally broke through. "They think they've won. Think they've overcome every obstacle I put in their path. Rose gets to wear white and pro husband while my parents watch proudly from the front row."
"And what would change if they knew?" Alexander asked gently. "If Victoria revealed Rose's secrets tomorrow, what would truly change?"
The question stopped me short. I'd been so focused on the idea of revelation, of seeing their faces when they realized who had been orchestrating their destruction, that I hadn't thought beyond that moment "Stefan might still choose Rose," Alexander continued when I didn't answer. "Your parents might find ways to justify their support. The question isn't just what secrets Victoria has discovered, but how to use ther "So I just watch them celebrate? Let them build this future together while I hide in the shadows?"
"No." Alexander's voice hardened slightly. "You use every advantage Victoria Kane's daughter possesses to ensure that future never materializes. Not through obvious attacks they can defend against, but throu His understanding of my situation, of the complex emotions driving me, was uncanny.
"Why do you care?" I asked suddenly. "About me. About my revenge. Why involve yourself in this at all?"
Alexander was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Let's just say I recognize someone fighting their way back from destruction. Someone refusing to let others define their story,"
It wasn't a complete answer, but something in his tone warned against pressing further. Besides, my phone was vibrating with a message from Victoria:
*Seattle property records pulled. New venture filing discovered. Wedding details being compiled. Return tomorrow 0800. Prepare for complete strategic overhaul."
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, a calm certainty replacing the earlier chaos of my emotions. Victoria had never failed me, not since the day she'd found me clinging to life and offered me a path to rebirt
"I should go,” I said, rising from the bench. "Victoria returns tomorrow. We have plans to make." Alexander stood, studying my face with an intensity that should have been uncomfortable but somehow wasn't." V "I've already lost everything once," I replied, meeting his gaze steadily. "There's nothing left they can take from
His expression suggested he disagreed, but he merely offered his arm again to escort me back to the main path. As we walked, I found myself wondering what Alexander Pierce really wanted, why this successf For now, though, I had more pressing concerns. Rose and Stefan had celebrated prematurely. Whatever
happiness they'd found would be short-lived.
Chapter 65
Chapter 65
The breakfast tray sat untouched on Rose's nightstand, fresh fruit and pastries growing stale in the morning air. She hadn't moved from the edge of her bed for nearly an hour, eyes fixed on the television screer "Fashion designer Rose Lewis faces new allegations today, the entertainment reporter said, her expression a mask of professional concern that barely concealed her delight in the scandal "Former associates h Rose's fingers dug into her silk comforter until her knuckles turned white. This wasn't happening. Not now. Not when everything was finally coming together.
The reporter continued, her voice dripping with false sympathy. "Most damaging are claims from British fashion executive Jonathan Hayes, who alleges Lewis used their affair to gain industry access while simul The screen filled with Jonathan's face, older now, silver threading through the dark hair she remembered running her fingers through in London hotel rooms. His expression held no remorse as he detailed their "She was calculating even then," he said, eyes meeting the camera directly. "Everything was transactional. An affair for introductions. Intimacy for opportunities." Rose grabbed the remote, hurling it at the screen with a scream of frustration. It bounced harmlessly off the glass, the reporter's voice continuing uninterrupted.
"These allegations come at a particularly sensitive time for Lewis, whose fashion line has been struggling with production delays and canceled orders from major retailers.
The doorbell rang, its cheerful chime a jarring contrast to the destruction playing out on the screen, Rose ignored it, pulling her knees to her chest as more evidence of her past appeared in professionally edited Lord Hartley, silver-haired and aristocratic, seated in his
country estate library: "She made me believe I was special, that our connection was unique. Later I
discovered he was seeing my colleague simultaneously, leveraging both relationships for fashion world introductions."
The former assistant to Anton Bessonov, her eyes hard with old resentment: "She lived on his yacht while his wife believed she was attending design conferences. When international authorities began investiga Photos flashed across the screen, Rose entering hotels with different men, Rose
boarding the infamous yacht in Monaco, Rose at industry events on the arm of designers three times her age. Each image more damning than the last, each time- stamped to create a comprehensive timeline of calculated ambition.
The doorbell rang again, more insistent this time. Rose buried her face in her hands, tears streaming between her fingers. How had they found these people? Who had convinced them to speak after all these y Until now.
Her phone buzzed with messages from her publicist, her lawyer, her business manager, all demanding to speak with her, all wanting direction on how to handle the crisis, Rose ignored them all, her eyes returni
Chapter 65
television where her carefully constructed life continued to disintegrate.
"Former classmates from Lewis's fashion program have also come forward," the reporter was saying, clearly enjoying each new revelation. "They allege systematic theft of design concepts that later appeared in A photo appeared, Rose's award-
winning graduation piece juxtaposed with a nearly identical sketch from a classmate's portfolio, dated months earlier. Side by side, the theft was unmistakable, the minor alterations insufficient to hide the original source.
"No, no, No!" Rose screamed, grabbing a crystal vase from her nightstand and hurling it against the wall. The glass shattered, water and
flowers spraying across imported wallpaper. The destruction wasn't enough to ease the panic rising in her chest.
The reporter was
now discussing financial connections between Rose and Anton Bessonov, suggesting that her early design
collections had been funded through questionable sources.
“Banking records obtained exclusively by our investigative team show substantial deposits to Lewis's accounts during her time with Bessonov," the woman explained as graphics appeared on screen. “These de experts describe as consistent with money laundering techniques."
The doorbell rang a third time, followed by heavy knocking. Rose pulled herself from the bed on unsteady legs, moving to the window to peer through the blinds. Reporters. At least
a dozen of them crowded her building's entrance, cameras ready, faces eager for a glimpse of the fallen fashion darling.
Her phone rang again, her publicist for the fifth time. Rose finally answered, her voice tight
with barely controlled fury.
"What the hell is happening, Melissa? How did they get all this? Who's behind it?"
"I don't know," her publicist replied, professional calm cracking under
pressure. "It's coordinated, that's all I can tell you. Multiple outlets receiving the same evidence simultaneously. Former associates contacted by someone offering significant money for exclusive interviews. It's.. "Make it stop!" Rose demanded, pacing her bedroom like a caged animal. "That's what I pay you for!"
"It's too late for containment. We need to issue a statement immediately. Something addressing
the allegations directly while...."
"No! Absolutely not!" Rose cut her off. "We deny everything. Every single thing. Call it a smear campaign by jealous competitors."
"Rose, there are photos. Time-
stamped, authenticated photos. There are bank records. There are multiple credible witnesses all
telling consistent stories. Denial will make this worse."
Rose swept her arm across her vanity, sending perfume bottles and makeup crashing to the floor. "I don't care! Find out who's behind this. Someone orchestrated it. Someone with resources and connections. I The knocking on her door grew louder. Rose ended the call, moving to the entry and peering through the peephole. Her assistant, Michael, stood there looking terrified.
"Ms. Lewis, please, I need to speak with you." His voice carried through the door, high with arcxiety. "Vogue just pulled your feature completely. Neiman Marcus is invoking the morality clause in their contract. Y Rose yanked the door open, pulling Michael inside before slamming it shut again. "Tell me something I don't
CHUMÍN 15
know!"
He flinched at her tone but continued. "Your investors are calling an emergency meeting this afternoon. The bank froze your business accounts pending review of the money laundering allegations." "They can't do that!" Rose grabbed his arm, fingers digging in hard enough to make him wince. "That's my money! My business!"
"The freeze is temporary, but... with the production timeline for your fall collection..." Michael trailed off, not needing to finish the thought. Without access to funds, without fabric suppliers, without retail partners, Rose released him, moving back to the window where the crowd of reporters had grown. Someone must have tipped them off that she was home. The thought sent fresh rage coursing through her. "Who did this?” she whispered, more to herself than Michael. "Who has enough power to coordinate something this comprehensive?"
"I don't know, but there's something else." Michael held out his tablet, displaying another news site. "They're reporting that an anonymous source provided evidence that some of your early designs weren't original. That you appropriated them from other designers who never received credit."
Rose snatched the tablet, scanning the article with growing horror. There, displayed side by side, were sketches from her most celebrated collections alongside nearly identical drawings from other designers' p process.
"These are lies," she hissed, throwing the tablet onto the sofa. "Distortions. Similar designs happen in fashion all the time. It's called inspiration!"
Michael looked unconvinced but knew better than to contradict her directly. "What do you want me to do? The press is demanding a statement."
Rose paced the length of her penthouse, mind racing through options, through damage control scenarios, through ways to salvage what remained of her reputation and business. Someone had orchestrated thi "Find me a list of enemies," she said suddenly, turning to face her assistant. "Everyone I've crossed in the Industry. Everyone who might have resources to do this. Everyone who might want to destroy me." "That... might be a long list," Michael said carefully.
Rose moved to her dressing room, scanning her
clothing options with frantic energy. If she had to face this storm, she would at least look impeccable doing it.
“Tell him to focus on the coordinated nature of the attacks. Make it clear this is a deliberate takedown by unnamed competitors threatened by my success. Deny any financial impropriety completely. For the affai and has no bearing on my professional contributions."
"And the design theft allegations?"
Rose yanked a crimson dress from its
hanger, the color perfect for projecting confidence and defiance. "Similar aesthetic sensibilities are common in creative industries. I was influenced by many designers, as they were by me. Icategorically deny st As she dressed, applied fresh makeup, and prepared to face the media circus outside her building, Rose's mind continued turning over possibilities. Who had the reach to find people from her London and Paris The answer remained elusive, but the question burned with obsessive intensity. Someone had declared war on Rose Lewis. Someone with resources and motivation she couldn't identify. Someone who knew ex "Your car is waiting at the service entrance,” Michael reported, ending a call with building security. "They've cleared a path, but there are still reporters. Do you want to make a statement or go straight to your lav Rose checked her reflection one final time, smoothing her hair and straightening her shoulders. The woman in the mirror looked nothing like the panicked, raging figure who had been throwing objects minutes e It was the greatest performance of her career.
"No statement yet," she decided. "Let them speculate. Let them wonder. I won't give them the satisfaction of seeing me break"
As she gathered her purse and phone, another alert appeared on Michael's tablet. He tried to shield the screen, but Rose caught the headline: "EXCLUSIVE: Rose Lewis's Former Mentor Reveals Pattern of De Her mentor. Eliza Winterbourne. The woman who had taught her not just design but strategy. The woman who had trusted her completely. The woman whose private collection of vintage couture Rose had care "I want a full report on who's talking by this afternoon," Rose instructed Michael, her voice glacial with suppressed fury. "Every name. Every allegation. Every connection between them. Someone orchestrated th In the elevator descending to the service level, Rose caught her reflection in the polished metal doors. The perfect image of success she'd cultivated so carefully, showing nothing of the ruins beneath. As the doors opened and she prepared to face the waiting cameras, a single question burned through the shock and rage: who had the power and motivation to destroy her so completely? Who had compiled e The answer waited somewhere beyond the flashbulbs and shouted questions. And Rose Lewis would find it, even if she had to burn what remained of her world to the ground in the process.