The Divorced Heiress Takes The Crown

Camilla stood in the center of the dining room inside the Stark penthouse. She adjusted the dark red roses in the crystal vase for the fourth time.

Her fingertips lightly traced the smooth, cold edge of the pristine white porcelain plates. She kept glancing toward the heavy oak door. Her stomach fluttered. A small, nervous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Tonight was their anniversary.

The heavy lock on the front door clicked.

Camilla immediately stood up straight. She smoothed down the fabric of her black dress. The smile on her face bloomed fully, bright and hopeful.

The smile froze the second Carlisle walked in.

His face was completely blank. His jaw was clenched tight. He didn't even look at her.

Carlisle walked straight past the dining table. He went directly to the glass liquor cabinet. He poured a heavy measure of whiskey into a glass. He threw it back in one swallow.

The sound of the ice cubes hitting the glass was sharp and loud in the quiet room.

Camilla swallowed hard. Her throat felt tight. She tried to soften the heavy air in the room.

"Carlisle, you're home," she said softly. "I made your favorite-"

Carlisle cut her off. He threw a thick manila envelope onto the dining table.

The envelope slid across the polished wood. It hit the crystal vase. Water sloshed over the rim and spilled onto the expensive linen tablecloth.

Camilla scrambled to wipe up the water. Her fingertips brushed against the cold, stiff paper of the envelope.

Without thinking, she pulled the document out.

Her eyes scanned the bold black letters at the top: Marital Settlement Agreement.

Her pupils shrank. The blood in her veins turned to ice. Her lungs forgot how to pull in air.

Carlisle's voice sliced through the room like a cold knife.

"Sign it. Celine is back. There's no place for you here anymore."

Camilla's head snapped up. She stared at him. Her chest heaved. Her lips trembled so hard she could barely form the words.

"Celine?" she whispered. "Your... first love? But we're married..."

Carlisle let out a harsh scoff. He adjusted his expensive silver cufflink. His eyes were full of disgust.

"A mistake I'm correcting tonight," he said. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be."

Carlisle's phone buzzed briefly in his inside pocket. He pulled it out, his eyes scanning a text message from his mother: We are downstairs, coming up now. A cold, calculated look crossed his face as he slipped the phone away, silently orchestrating this final humiliation. Before Camilla could process the pain twisting in her gut, the front door was shoved open again.

Diane Ballard and Billie Stark marched into the penthouse. They looked like sharks smelling blood in the water. Cruel smiles stretched across their faces.

Diane's sharp voice echoed immediately.

"Oh, Carlisle, finally! We thought you'd never get rid of this gold-digger."

Billie crossed her arms and walked slowly around the dining table. She rolled her eyes, looking at the cooked food.

"Look at all this effort," Billie sneered. "How... pathetic. Thinking a home-cooked meal could compete with Celine's place in his heart?"

Camilla gripped the divorce papers. Her knuckles turned stark white. Her chest rose and fell in rapid, shallow breaths. She forced her eyes to stay wide so the tears wouldn't fall. The crushing pain in her chest slowly hardened into something cold and solid.

Diane stepped right up to Camilla. She looked down her nose at her.

"You heard my son," Diane said. "Sign the papers and pack your things. The Stark family has no use for a barren, scheming wife."

Billie snatched the papers right out of Camilla's tight grip. She pretended to read them.

"Oh, look, Mom!" Billie mocked, reading the terms out loud. "She gets nothing but her clothes. How generous of you, Carlisle!"

Carlisle leaned against the liquor cabinet. He watched the entire scene with dead, empty eyes. He didn't step in. He didn't stop them. He looked like he was watching a boring television show.

Camilla took a deep, shaky breath. She snatched the papers back from Billie's hands.

Her voice came out surprisingly steady.

"Get out of my home."

Diane and Billie froze. They were clearly shocked by her tone. Then, Diane's face turned red with anger. She raised her hand, ready to slap Camilla across the face.

Carlisle's voice suddenly rang out. It was flat, but heavy with authority.

"Mother. Billie. That's enough."

Diane slowly lowered her hand. She let out a cold snort.

"We're just helping you, Carlisle," Diane said. "She needs to understand her position."

Billie couldn't resist one last dig.

"Yeah, position of the ex-wife," Billie said. "Celine is way better than this boring, plain Jane."

Camilla stopped looking at the two women. She turned her gaze to Carlisle. She searched his face for a single ounce of guilt. A single second of hesitation.

She found nothing but endless, freezing indifference.

Suddenly, Camilla laughed.

It was a bitter, broken sound. She grabbed the expensive fountain pen resting on the table. Diane and Billie stared at her in shock. Camilla flipped to the last page of the agreement.

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. He looked slightly surprised that she was giving in so easily. A fast, unreadable emotion flashed in his dark eyes.

Camilla's pen hovered over the signature line. She paused for exactly three seconds.

Then, she pressed the pen down hard. She signed Camilla Mcneil. The strokes were sharp and aggressive. The ink nearly bled through the thick paper.

She slammed the signed agreement onto the table right in front of Carlisle.

"Satisfied?" her voice was pure ice. "Now, all of you, get out."

Carlisle picked up the papers. He glanced at her signature. A cold smirk touched his lips. He folded the document and slid it into the inside pocket of his suit jacket.

He turned around and walked out the door. He didn't look back once.

Diane and Billie exchanged a victorious look.

"You have until tomorrow noon to vacate this penthouse," Diane warned viciously.

They walked out. The heavy door slammed shut. It sounded like a judge's gavel hitting wood.

Camilla stood completely alone in the ruined dining room. She looked at the cold dinner.

The tears finally fell. They slid down her cheeks in absolute silence.

She slowly sank to the hardwood floor. She wrapped her arms around her knees. Her shoulders shook violently as she gasped for air.

But it only lasted a minute.

Camilla wiped the wetness from her face roughly. She stood up. The vulnerability in her eyes was gone. It was replaced by a hard, unbreakable wall of ice.