I AM ABLE

SCORNED EX WIFE : Queen Of Ashes

Annypen

Camille Lewis was the forgotten daughter, the unloved wife, the woman discarded like yesterday's news. Betrayed by her husband, cast aside by her own family, and left for dead by the sister who stole everything, she vanished without a trace. But the weak, naive Camille died the night her car was forced off that bridge. A year later, she returns as Camille Kane, richer, colder, and more powerful than anyone could have imagined. Armed with wealth, intelligence, and a hunger for vengeance, she is no longer the woman they once trampled on. She is the storm that will tear their world apart. Her ex-husband begs for forgiveness. Her sister's perfect life crumbles. Her parents regret the daughter they cast aside. But Camille didn't come back for apologies, she came back to watch them burn. But as her enemies fall at her feet, one question remains: when the revenge is over, what's left? A mysterious trillionaire Alexander Pierce steps into her path, offering something she thought she lost forever, a future. But can a woman built on ashes learn to love again? She rose from the fire to destroy those who betrayed her. Now, she must decide if she'll rule alone... or let someone melt the ice in her heart.

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��Do you ever have nightmares about the Chosen killer? About that night?�� Doctor Faulkner clicked his pen again, looking over the top of his notepad at Kacey, who barely registered the question; her attention was directed at the small window nearby and the steady rainfall just outside.

��Detective Dean?��

��Yeah?�� she said, forcing her eyes back to the older man with the thin gray hair plastered to his pale skull; his glassy, bulging eyes gazing back expectantly.

Click-click!

I really, really want to shove that pen up his ass.

��I mean, ��no.�� No I do not have nightmares about Declan,�� she lied. ��Or about the night I shot him.��

Images flashed through her mind: of that night six weeks ago, of the old asylum, of Declan Crowe silhouetted against the window frame and the night sky, a gun in one hand and in the other��

What? What was it? What had she seen? Why couldn��t she remember?

��Did you attend the funeral?�� Faulkner asked, rousing her from her reverie.

��No, I thought that would be in poor taste.��

��You have an impressive record, detective. First in your class at the LAPD Police Academy, near-perfect scores on your exam and you made detective by age twenty five.��

Kacey raised her eyebrows. Where was the old coot going with this?

��And you left it all to come here,�� he continued. ��Do you want to talk about what happened in L.A.?��

��Actually I��d like to do that, but the opposite. I��d like to not talk about that. Ever.��

Click- click!

��Okay. Okay then�� Faulkner wrote something on the pad. Probably something like ��Patient continues to be a royal pain in my ass.�� Kacey��s eyes wandered the small office: certificates, diplomas, a bookshelf, lots of potted plants, soothing colors�� and between the two of them, a small glass-top coffee table. Everything situated just so; a carefully constructed scene to make patients feel comfortable�� which, for whatever reason, had the effect of making her feel particularly uncomfortable.

��So why transfer to Washington State?�� Faulkner asked.

Shifting in her oversized seat (whatever happened to shrinks using couches?) Kacey deadpanned: ��I came here for the sunshine.��

Faulkner smiled. ��Ha ha! Yes! The sunshine�� He let out an exaggerated ��ahhh�� then: ��Don��t you have family here?��

��Yeah, a brother. I grew up here.��

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