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.

Camilla stood inside the massive walk-in closet. She mechanically pulled her clothes off the velvet hangers.

She folded them and placed them into her suitcase. Her movements were slow and careful. It felt like a funeral. She was burying the last four years of her life.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the living room. Then, a familiar, high-pitched laugh pierced the quiet air.

Camilla's hands stopped moving. Her stomach knotted. Her eyes turned instantly cold. She dropped the sweater she was holding and walked out of the bedroom.

Billie was sitting right in the middle of the living room sofa. Her legs were crossed. In her hands, she was tossing a small, delicate wooden music box.

It was the only thing Camilla had left from her dead mother.

Diane stood near the kitchen island. She held a glass of red wine she had poured for herself. She looked around the apartment with a smug, entertained smile. "Don't look at us like that," Diane said, taking a leisurely sip of her wine. "Carlisle sent us to supervise your packing. We are here to ensure you don't walk away with any Stark family heirlooms you have absolutely no right to."

Billie saw Camilla walk in. She held the music box up high in the air. Her smile was pure poison.

"Look what I found!" Billie laughed. "A cheap little toy. Fits you perfectly, doesn't it?"

Camilla's voice was low. Her chest vibrated with suppressed rage.

"Put that down, Billie. It's not yours."

Billie stood up. She walked closer to Camilla. She shook the music box right in front of Camilla's face.

"Or what?" Billie taunted. "You'll cry? You're nothing but a discarded, useless piece of-"

Before Billie even finished her sentence, she opened her fingers.

The music box dropped toward the hardwood floor.

Camilla's pupils dilated. Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her body moved completely on instinct. She dove forward and shoved her hands out.

She caught the wooden box just inches from the floor.

The sharp metal hinge on the bottom sliced deep into the palm of her hand. Bright red blood instantly welled up and dripped onto the floor.

Camilla pulled the box tight against her chest. She looked up at Billie. The fire in her eyes was lethal.

Billie just laughed harder.

"Oops! My bad," Billie sneered. "But really, it's just trash, like you."

Diane took a sip of her wine and added fuel to the fire.

"Billie, don't waste time with her," Diane said. "Carlisle wants her gone. Why don't you help her pack... by throwing her things out the window?"

Billie's eyes lit up. She spun around and grabbed a heavy crystal vase off the coffee table. Camilla had picked that vase out herself in Italy. Billie raised it above her head, ready to smash it.

Camilla's patience snapped.

She lunged forward. She ripped the heavy vase right out of Billie's hands. She slammed it back down onto the glass table. The loud bang shook the room.

Billie jumped back, clearly startled by the aggression. Then, her face twisted into pure fury. She raised her hand, her sharp acrylic nails aiming straight for Camilla's face.

"You bitch! How dare you-"

Camilla didn't flinch. She didn't back away.

Before Billie's nails could even touch her skin, Camilla raised her own hand.

Smack.

Camilla slapped Billie across the face with everything she had.

The sharp, cracking sound echoed off the high ceilings. Billie stumbled back. She grabbed her red cheek. Her eyes were wide with absolute shock. The room went dead silent.

Diane screamed.

"You hit her? ! You low-class-"

Camilla ignored Diane completely. She pointed a bloody finger straight at the front door. Her voice was freezing.

"I said, get out. And if you ever touch my things again, I'll do more than slap you."

Billie finally snapped out of her shock. She lunged at Camilla, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"I'll kill you!"

Right at that exact second, the front door swung open.

Carlisle stood in the doorway. The cold air from the hallway rushed in with him. His dark eyes swept over the chaotic living room.

Billie's entire demeanor changed instantly. She burst into fake, heavy tears. She ran to Carlisle and grabbed his arm.

"Carlisle! She hit me! That crazy woman hit me!"

Diane rushed over, pointing an accusing finger at Camilla.

"Carlisle, you see? She's violent! Unhinged! You need to call the police!"

Carlisle's gaze moved past his mother and sister. He looked at Camilla. He saw her clutching the music box to her chest. He saw the fresh blood dripping from her hand onto the floor.

A tiny, almost invisible flicker of emotion crossed his eyes. But he blinked, and it was gone. Replaced by the same empty coldness.

He walked slowly toward Camilla. His gaze flicked to her bleeding hand, then back to her face, completely indifferent to her injury. He didn't ask what happened. He didn't care. "I don't care who started this," his voice held zero warmth. "There will be no physical violence in my property. Apologize to her and end this farce."

Camilla tilted her head up. She stared straight into his dark eyes. A bitter, sarcastic smile pulled at her lips.

"Apologize? For defending myself and my property?"

Carlisle's jaw clenched tight. His voice dropped an octave.

"I won't repeat myself. Apologize, now. De-escalate this."

A wave of sickening anger washed over Camilla. Her chest heaved. She refused to look down. She took one step closer to him.

"She tried to smash my mother's music box," Camilla said, her voice shaking with rage. "She attacked me first. I will not apologize."

Billie hid behind Carlisle's broad back. She sobbed loudly.

"She's lying! I just touched it!"

Diane pressed harder. "Carlisle, this is unacceptable. Your sister is the victim here."

Before Carlisle could speak, his cell phone buzzed loudly in his pocket.

He pulled it out. He looked at the screen. His jaw tightened even more. He answered it.

"Celine," he said simply.

He turned his back on the room and walked out onto the balcony, leaving the heavy, suffocating tension hanging in the air.

Carlisle stood on the balcony. The cold night wind whipped at his suit jacket. He spoke in a low, tight voice into the phone. The crease between his eyebrows grew deeper by the second.

Finally, he let out a harsh breath.

"I understand, Grandmother. We'll be there."

He hung up the phone. He slid it back into his pocket and walked back into the living room.

His eyes swept over the three women. His gaze finally landed on Billie. His eyes were so dark and threatening that Billie physically shrank back. She pressed herself closer to Diane.

Carlisle walked right up to his sister. His voice was terrifyingly calm.

"Billie, apologize to Camilla."

Billie's eyes bugged out of her head. She looked at him like he was speaking a foreign language.

"W-What? Me? Apologize to her? She hit me!"

Diane immediately jumped in, her voice shrill.

"Carlisle, are you out of your mind? Your sister is the one who-"

Carlisle snapped his head toward his mother. His glare was like a physical blade. Diane's mouth snapped shut. The words died in her throat.

Carlisle looked back at Billie. He spoke slowly, emphasizing every single word.

"I said, apologize. Now."

Tears welled up in Billie's eyes. This time, they were real tears of frustration and anger.

"But she-"

Carlisle suddenly leaned forward. He lowered his head right next to Billie's ear. His voice was a low, dangerous hiss, perfectly audible in the dead silence of the room. "Keep this up, Billie, and I will freeze your trust fund and cancel every credit card in your name by tomorrow morning. Think very carefully about your next move." Billie's face drained of all color. Her skin turned chalk white. Her body started to tremble slightly.

She bit her bottom lip hard. She stared at the floor. Her hands gripped the fabric of her expensive dress. Her shoulders hitched as she fought a massive internal battle.

Camilla stood perfectly still. She watched the scene with cold, detached eyes. She was surprised by Carlisle's sudden shift, but her guard remained completely up.

Finally, Billie lifted her head. She shot Camilla a look of pure, toxic hatred. She forced the words through her gritted teeth.

"I... I apologize for... for touching your things."

It was the most fake, forced apology in the world. But Camilla didn't care about the tone. She only cared about the result.

She gave a tiny, stiff nod. Her voice was flat.

"Apology accepted. Now leave."

Diane opened her mouth to argue, but Carlisle shot her one final warning look. Diane grabbed Billie's arm. They practically ran to the door. Diane shot Camilla one last dirty look before slamming the door behind them.

The living room was dead quiet. It was just Camilla and Carlisle. The air felt thick enough to choke on.

Carlisle didn't look at her. He turned and started walking toward the front door.

"Where are you going?" Camilla asked. Her voice was completely empty.

Carlisle stopped walking, but he didn't turn around.

"To see Eleanor," he said. "She wants to see you too. Get your coat."

Camilla's stomach dropped. Eleanor. Carlisle's grandmother. The only person in the Stark family who had ever shown her an ounce of kindness. She knew Eleanor was the reason Carlisle had forced Billie to apologize.

She swallowed the heavy lump in her throat. She didn't say a word. She walked to the closet and pulled out her black wool coat.

They walked out of the apartment and rode the elevator down to the parking garage in total silence. Carlisle didn't even bother to open the car door for her.

The black Maybach sped through the dark streets of New York. The inside of the car was dead silent. The only sound was the soft hum of the heater.

Camilla stared out the window at the blurred streetlights. Her mind raced. What did Eleanor want?

The car pulled through the massive iron gates of the Stark Estate. The giant stone mansion loomed in the dark. Looking at it made Camilla's chest feel tight. This place was supposed to be her family home, but she had always been an outsider.

Martha Finch, the head housekeeper, was waiting by the front doors. When she saw Camilla, a look of deep sympathy crossed her wrinkled face.

"Madam Eleanor is in her study," Martha whispered. "She's been waiting."

Camilla gave her a small, grateful nod. She followed Carlisle down the long, quiet hallway. Every step felt like walking on broken glass.

Carlisle pushed the heavy wooden doors open.

Eleanor Stark sat in a high-backed leather chair by the roaring fireplace. Her silver cane rested against the table. She looked old, but her eyes were sharp and piercing.

When she saw Camilla, a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. She waved her hand.

"Camilla, my dear, come here."

Carlisle stood stiffly by the door. His face was a blank mask. Eleanor acted like he wasn't even there. She turned her head slightly toward him.

"Carlisle, leave us. I need to speak with Camilla alone."

Carlisle frowned. He adjusted his cuffs. "Grandmother, it's late and-"

Eleanor's eyes turned cold. She tapped her silver cane hard against the wooden floor.

"Did you not hear me?"

Carlisle's jaw flexed. He looked like he wanted to argue, but he didn't. He turned around and walked out. The heavy doors clicked shut behind him.

Eleanor looked back at Camilla. The warmth in her eyes faded into something heavy and complicated. She let out a long sigh.

"My dear, I heard what happened tonight. Sit down, let's talk."