The words "win again" were like a bucket of ice water. The grief should have broken her. Instead, those two words burned through it, replacing the pain with a chilling, razor-sharp fury.
Camila's head snapped up. The trembling in her body miraculously ceased. She didn't cry. Instead, her newly clear eyes, cold and hard, fixed on Ashton.
In the stunned silence, Camila didn't bend down to pick up her cane. She hooked it with the toe of her shoe, flicking the handle upward. It slapped neatly into her waiting palm.
Her target wasn't Ashton. It was the glass of champagne Ashton held, the symbol of her victory.
Crack.
The sound was sharp and satisfying. Camila swung the cane with all the strength she could summon, striking the delicate glass with precision.
Amber liquid and shards of crystal exploded, splashing all over Ashton's expensive white dress, leaving a large, ugly stain.
Ashton shrieked, looking down at her ruined dress in horror before her gaze flew to Camila. "You psycho! Do you have any idea how much this dress costs?"
Camila's voice was quiet but carried across the room, dripping with ice. "No matter how expensive it is, it can't wash away the cheap, dirty stain you are."
The sudden violence finally jolted Leo into action. He didn't look at Camila. He rushed to Ashton's side, his hands hovering over her anxiously, checking for cuts.
"Camila! What the hell is wrong with you?" he roared, his eyes filled with disappointment and accusation. "Did you come back just to cause a scene?"
Cause a scene? Her heart felt like it was being methodically shredded. He was asking her what was wrong?
Ashton collapsed against Leo's chest, her body trembling. Tears welled in her eyes instantly. "Leo, I'm scared... Her eyes, they look like she wants to kill me."
Camila tightened her grip on the cane, raising it slightly. This time, it was aimed at Ashton's lying face. "You're scared? Where was your fear when you ran me off the road and left me for dead?"
It was a suspicion she'd harbored for three years. The car accident had been too convenient, too clean. Ashton was the only one who benefited. Now, she was using the accusation as a probe, a bluff.
Ashton's face changed. For a single, unguarded second, something flickered in her eyes—surprise, fear, or recognition. Camila couldn't tell. But it was enough.
Then, just as quickly, the mask was back. Ashton even laughed. "Car accident? What are you talking about? I think your eyes are fixed, but your brain is broken. Leo, she's slandering me!"
She broke away from Leo and lunged at Camila, her hand raised to slap her. "I'll teach you some manners for Leo's sake, you ungrateful bitch!"
Camila instinctively brought the cane up to block the blow, but Leo was faster.
He didn't stop Ashton.
He grabbed Camila's wrist too tightly and pulled her back, forcing her away from Ashton.
Her body, still weak from surgery, was no match for his strength. She stumbled backward, her back slamming hard against the wall. A sharp pain shot up her spine.
Leo pulled Ashton completely behind him, shielding her as if she were a precious jewel. He glared at Camila, his face a mask of fury.
"That's enough, Camila!" His voice was laced with disgust. "Ashton is my wife now. She is the lady of the Montgomery household. You will show her some respect!"
Wife. Lady of the Montgomery household. Each word was a fresh cut. She had once believed those titles would be hers.
From behind Leo's protective form, Ashton shot her a look of pure, triumphant contempt.
Camila pushed herself off the wall, slowly straightening her body. She looked at the perfect couple before her, and the last lingering embers of love for Leo were finally extinguished, leaving nothing but cold ash.
She ignored them, her movements becoming slow and deliberate. She smoothed the front of her simple dress, a small act of dignity in the midst of the chaos.
This home, the one she had poured her heart into for five years, was no longer hers. There was nothing left for her here.
She lifted her head, her gaze sweeping over Leo and Ashton, utterly devoid of emotion. "Leo Montgomery," she said, her voice flat and even. "I wish you a very 'happy' marriage."
Without another glance, she turned. Holding her white cane, she walked toward the door, her back straight, her steps measured and unwavering. Her lone figure was a stark contrast to the wreckage of the living room, exuding a desolate but unbreakable resolve.
Her hand was just about to touch the doorknob when Ashton's voice, silky and venomous, slithered through the air behind her.
"Wait. You don't think it's over, do you? About that 'bet'... aren't you curious?"
