SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 227

Chapter 227

Victoria Kane woke to the sound of water dripping somewhere in the darkness. Her head throbbed from the collision and the sedative, and her wrists burned from the zip ties that bound her to a metal chair. The air around her smelled of rust and dampness, suggesting they were in some kind of warehouse or abandoned building.

As her vision cleared, Victoria could make out Camille slumped in another chair about ten feet away. Her daughter's head hung forward, blood from the car accident dried on her forehead, her breathing shallow but steady.

"Camille," Victoria called softly, not wanting to alert their captors that they were conscious.

Camille's head lifted slowly, her eyes unfocused and pained. "Victoria? Where are we?"

"I don't know. But we're alive, and that means we still have a chance."

The room around them was large and empty, with high concrete walls and broken windows that let in shafts of dim light. Industrial equipment sat covered in dust and cobwebs, suggesting this place had been abandoned for years. Perfect for someone who needed privacy for what James Whitfield had planned.

Footsteps echoed across the concrete floor, and James emerged from the shadows carrying a laptop computer and a folding chair. He looked different from the polished businessman who had confronted Victoria on the street - his expensive suit was wrinkled, his hair disheveled, and his eyes carried the wild intensity of someone who had finally stopped pretending to be sane.

"Good evening, ladies," James said, setting up his chair directly in front of Victoria. "I hope you're both comfortable. We have a lot to discuss about justice and family loyalty."

"James, whatever you think you're accomplishing here, it won't bring your father back," Victoria said, trying to keep her voice calm despite the fear clawing at her chest.

"My father?" James laughed, but the sound held no humor. "This stopped being about my father the moment you decided to adopt a daughter and build a family empire on the graves of the people you destroyed."

James opened his laptop and angled the screen toward Victoria. The image that appeared made her heart stop - security footage from the hotel parking garage where Camille had been attacked by Rose's hired men two years ago.

"Do you remember this night, Mrs. Kane?" James asked, his voice taking on the tone of a prosecutor presenting evidence. "The night you found your precious daughter bleeding and broken, begging for someone to save her?"

Victoria couldn't look away from the screen as she watched herself discovering Camille's unconscious form. The memory of that night - the terror, the rage, the desperate drive to the hospital - came flooding back with devastating clarity.

"Stop this," Victoria said, her voice breaking.

"Stop what? Showing you the truth about how your family was built on violence and pain?" James clicked to another video file. "Or maybe you'd prefer to see something else."

The new footage showed the night Victoria's husband had died in the car accident that had left her a widow fifteen years ago. Victoria watched her younger self receiving the phone call from the hospital, watched her world collapse as she learned that the man she loved would never come home again.

"James, please," Camille said weakly, struggling against her restraints. "Leave her alone. Your problem is with me, not with Victoria."

"My problem is with both of you," James replied, never taking his eyes off Victoria's face as she watched her husband's death played out on the screen. "You see, Mrs. Kane, I've been studying your family for years. Learning about your losses, your pain, your vulnerabilities."

Victoria felt tears streaming down her face as the video continued. The footage had been taken from hospital security cameras, showing her sitting alone in a waiting room as doctors tried unsuccessfully to save her husband's life.

"Your husband died because of a drunk driver who walked away from the crash with minor injuries," James continued. "Just like my father died because of accusations from people who walked away from his destruction with successful careers."

"That's not the same thing," Victoria said through her tears. "My husband was innocent. Your father was a criminal who endangered people's lives."

James closed the laptop with a sharp snap. "Innocent? Mrs. Kane, no one in your family is innocent. Your husband was driving home from a business dinner where he had been drinking. The toxicology report showed he was legally intoxicated when that other driver hit him."

The words hit Victoria like physical blows. "That's not true. David never drank and drove. He was always careful about—"

"About what? About the image of the perfect businessman? About maintaining his reputation?" James pulled out a folder thick with documents. "I have the complete police report, Mrs. Kane. Your husband had a blood alcohol level of 0.09 when he died. Legally drunk."

Victoria felt her world tilting as James revealed information she had never seen, details that had been kept from her by well-meaning officials who thought a grieving widow didn't need to know every painful detail of her husband's death.

"You're lying," Victoria whispered.

"Am I? Then explain why the other driver was never charged with vehicular homicide. Explain why the police report was sealed. Explain why your husband's company paid a settlement to the other driver's family." James leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Your perfect husband killed himself through his own poor choices, just like my father did. The difference is that you were allowed to grieve and rebuild your life, while my father was sent to prison to die."

"Anything I want?" James asked Camille. "What I want is for both of you to understand what my father felt during his final years in prison. Betrayed by people he trusted. Abandoned by family who should have supported him. Facing death alone while his enemies prospered."

"Your father wasn't abandoned," Victoria said, finding strength she didn't know she still possessed. "Your father was held accountable for crimes that hurt innocent people. There's a difference between justice and abandonment."

James picked up one of the instruments from the table - something sharp and medical that gleamed in the dim light filtering through the broken windows.

"Let's test that theory, shall we? Let's see how much loyalty really exists in the Kane family when survival is at stake."

As James approached with the instrument in his hand, Camille summoned every ounce of strength she had left and threw herself forward in her chair, trying to position herself between James and Victoria despite the zip ties that bound her.

"Don't you touch her!" Camille screamed, her voice raw with desperation and love. "Don't you dare touch my mother!"

The word 'mother' hung in the air between them all - the first time Camille had ever called Victoria by that title. Even in their most intimate moments, even when Victoria had legally adopted her, Camille had always maintained some emotional distance.

But now, facing the possibility of losing Victoria forever, all pretense fell away. Victoria wasn't just her mentor or adoptive parent. She was her mother in every way that mattered.

Victoria felt her heart breaking and healing at the same time as she heard Camille claim her as mother. After two years of building their relationship carefully, after all the trauma and healing they had shared, this moment of crisis had finally stripped away the last barriers between them.

"I love you too, daughter," Victoria whispered, tears streaming down her face.

James watched this exchange with something approaching disgust. "How touching. A family reunion built on lies and manipulation finding truth in their final moments together."

He raised the sharp instrument, preparing to demonstrate exactly how fragile family bonds could be when tested by real pain.

As James moved toward Victoria with the instrument gleaming in the dim light, both mother and daughter understood that their fifteen-year enemy was finally ready to complete his campaign of revenge.

The abandoned warehouse fell silent except for the sound of dripping water and their labored breathing, as James Whitfield prepared to finish what his father's imprisonment had started two decades ago.