The morning sun sliced through the gap in the heavy curtains.
Camilla groaned. Her head pounded with a vicious hangover. She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. She was lying in a large, modern bed. The walls were painted a dark grey.
Panic spiked in her chest. She sat up quickly. She looked down and let out a massive breath. She was still wearing her black slip dress. Nothing had happened.
She recognized the minimalist decor. This was Cristobal's apartment. Memories from the club hit her in broken flashes.
She rubbed her temples, grabbed a throw blanket, and walked out of the bedroom.
She heard a low voice coming from the kitchen. Cristobal was standing by the marble island, talking on his phone. When he saw her, he quickly ended the call.
He walked over, his eyes full of concern.
"You're awake. How are you feeling? I made some coffee."
Camilla winced as a sharp pain shot through her skull. Her voice was raspy.
"What... happened last night? After we left the club..."
Cristobal handed her a warm mug. His smile was gentle.
"You fell asleep in the car. I brought you here because I didn't know where else to take you. Nothing happened, I promise."
Camilla felt a wave of relief, followed instantly by deep embarrassment.
"Thank you, Cristobal," she muttered, looking down at her coffee. "I should go..."
Before she could finish her sentence, a loud, violent crash echoed through the apartment.
Outside in the hallway, Carlisle had just lowered his phone. He had spent the last hour forcing his head of security to illegally track the GPS on Cristobal's private vehicle, hunting them down like prey. The front door was kicked open.
Carlisle stood in the doorway. He looked like a hurricane. His suit was wrinkled. His eyes were bloodshot and filled with murderous rage. Two massive bodyguards stood right behind him.
Camilla gasped. The coffee mug slipped from her hands and shattered on the floor.
Cristobal immediately stepped in front of Camilla, shielding her with his body.
"Carlisle?" Cristobal demanded, his voice hard. "How did you find this place? You have no right-"
Carlisle let out a dark, ugly laugh. He didn't even look at Cristobal. His eyes were locked onto Camilla, staring daggers into her.
"No right?" Carlisle yelled. "In this city, there is no place you can hide her from me! And as your husband, I have every right to know why my wife spent the night in another man's bed the very day we signed divorce papers!"
Camilla's face went pale. Her heart hammered against her ribs. But the fear vanished, replaced by a sudden, burning anger. She stepped out from behind Cristobal. She looked Carlisle dead in the eye.
"Your 'wife'?" Camilla spat. "I believe you made it clear last night that title no longer applies. And where I spend my nights is none of your business."
Carlisle took a threatening step forward. His hands were curled into tight fists.
"None of my business? You're still legally my wife until the divorce is finalized! And you act like a cheap-"
Cristobal shoved Carlisle's chest hard.
"Watch your words, Carlisle. Camilla is not what you think."
Carlisle snapped his head toward Cristobal. His eyes were wild with jealousy.
"And you would know? How long has this been going on, West? Were you warming her bed while I was married to her?"
A wave of pure nausea hit Camilla. The hypocrisy was suffocating. She couldn't breathe. She raised her voice, letting all her suppressed rage explode.
"How dare you? You're the one who threw me out for your precious Celine! You have no right to question my actions!"
Carlisle flinched slightly at Celine's name, but his face quickly hardened.
"Celine has nothing to do with your lack of morals! I thought you were at least decent, but you're just-"
"Decent?" Camilla screamed, cutting him off. "You want to talk about decent? What about your emotional affair with Celine for the past three years? The gifts, the calls, the 'business trips'? I wasn't blind, Carlisle!"
Carlisle's pupils shrank. He clearly hadn't expected her to know about that. But he quickly recovered, his lips curling into a cruel sneer.
"So, this is your revenge? Throwing yourself at the first man who looks at you?"
Camilla let out a dry, sarcastic laugh.
"Revenge? You flatter yourself. Last night, I was drunk and Cristobal was kind enough to make sure I was safe. That's it. Unlike you, I don't use people."
She turned to Cristobal. Her eyes were firm.
"Cristobal, I'm sorry to involve you in this. I think it's time I leave."
Cristobal looked at her. A flash of deep pain crossed his eyes, but he nodded.
"I'll take you wherever you want to go."
Carlisle stepped sideways, blocking the hallway. His voice was absolute ice.
"You're not going anywhere with him. You're coming with me. We need to settle this properly."
Camilla looked at him like he was a stranger.
"There's nothing to settle. The papers are signed. It's over."
Carlisle ground his teeth together. "It's over when I say it's over. Until then, you will conduct yourself with some dignity."
A bone-deep exhaustion washed over Camilla. She was so tired of his control. She walked right up to him.
"Move, Carlisle. I'm leaving with Cristobal, and you can't stop me."
She pushed past his shoulder. She walked toward the broken door. Cristobal followed right behind her.
Carlisle didn't try to grab her. He just stood there. But as her hand touched the doorframe, his voice rang out behind her. It was cold and utterly ruthless.
"Fine. Go. But know this, Camilla Mcneil: as of this moment, I am publicly announcing our divorce. And everyone will know exactly why."
Camilla's footsteps paused for a fraction of a second. She didn't turn around. She walked out.
The drive in Cristobal's car was completely silent. Camilla stared out the window, her stomach churning with dread.
Three hours later, her phone started vibrating non-stop.
Carlisle's personal PR team and private legal counsel had just released an official statement to the city's top media outlets and gossip columns. Carlisle Stark officially announced his divorce from Camilla Mcneil. The statement heavily implied "inappropriate conduct" on Camilla's part. It expressed his "deep disappointment and disgust."
The internet exploded. The comments flooded in. Camilla was instantly branded a cheating whore. Minutes later, photos of Carlisle and Celine having coffee leaked online. The public narrative was set: Carlisle was the heartbroken victim, finding comfort in his sweet first love.
Camilla stared at the screen. Her hands shook violently. Her reputation was completely destroyed.
