The bass from the speakers vibrated through the floorboards of Club Xanadu.

Camilla sat in the dark corner of a VIP booth. She was wearing a tight, black slip dress that hugged her curves. It was a dress the "perfect Stark wife" would never wear. The glass table in front of her was littered with empty shot glasses.

Her eyes were hazy from the alcohol, but a wild, reckless sense of freedom burned in her chest.

She picked up a half-full glass of tequila. She raised it to the empty air in front of her.

"To divorce!" she slurred, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "To freedom! To being a 'useless, barren' ex-wife!"

She threw her head back and swallowed the burning liquid. It burned her throat, but she welcomed the pain.

A random man in a cheap suit slid into the booth next to her. He leaned in too close. He smelled like cheap cologne and desperation.

"Hey beautiful, alone tonight?" the man purred. "Let me buy you a-"

Camilla slowly turned her head. She gave him a look so cold it could freeze water.

"Not interested. Get lost," she spat.

The man scowled and quickly slid out of the booth, disappearing into the crowd.

A few seconds later, the velvet curtain to the VIP booth was pushed aside. A tall, incredibly handsome man walked in. It was Cristobal West.

He took one look at the empty glasses and Camilla's flushed face. His jaw tightened. He walked straight over to her.

Cristobal reached out and gently pulled the empty glass from her fingers. His voice was soft, but firm.

"Camilla, that's enough. You're drunk."

Camilla blinked heavily. She looked up at him. It took her brain a second to recognize the face of her childhood friend and her father's business partner. A sad smile touched her lips.

"Cristobal? What are you doing here?"

Cristobal sat down right next to her. He naturally wrapped a warm, supportive arm around her shaking shoulders.

"Your father called me," Cristobal said, his voice laced with quiet concern. "He said Carlisle was acting erratically and that you weren't answering your phone. I came looking for you. You shouldn't be alone like this."

The warmth of his body broke the last of her defenses. The alcohol made her weak. She leaned her head against his shoulder. A thick lump formed in her throat.

"He divorced me, Cristobal," she whispered, her voice cracking. "For his first love. Said I was useless..."

Cristobal's hand rubbed gentle circles on her back. His eyes darkened with pure anger.

"He's a fool, Camilla," Cristobal said fiercely. "A blind, arrogant fool."

Camilla suddenly lifted her head. Her eyes flashed with stubborn pride despite the tears.

"I'm not useless. I'm not. I can be more than his wife..."

Cristobal looked down at her. His heart ached. He reached up and gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I know you can. I've always known. You're talented, smart, beautiful..."

Camilla stared at him. The alcohol blurred the lines of reality. She reached up and let her fingertips brush against his jawline.

Cristobal... you always..." she mumbled, her eyelids drooping.

Cristobal caught her uninjured hand. He held it against his chest. He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead.

"I'm here for you. Always."

Right at that exact moment, the velvet curtain was pulled back again.

Gregorio Cooley stood in the entrance. He was Carlisle's best friend. His eyes went wide as saucers as he stared at Camilla and Cristobal huddled together.

Gregorio quickly stepped back into the shadows before they could see him.

Inside the booth, Cristobal stood up. He gently pulled Camilla to her feet.

"Come on, let me take you home. You need to rest."

Camilla leaned heavily against his side. They walked out of the booth together. As they walked down the dark, neon-lit hallway, Camilla's purse slipped from her shoulder. Cristobal quickly bent down to catch it. His arm wrapped tightly around her waist to keep her from falling. In the dim light, they looked incredibly intimate.

Gregorio stood behind a pillar. His hands shook as he held up his phone and recorded the entire thing.

He immediately dialed Carlisle's number.

"Carlisle, you need to get to Club Xanadu now," Gregorio said, his voice rushing. "It's about your wife... I mean, ex-wife. She's here with some guy, and they're..."

There was two seconds of dead silence on the other end of the line.

"I'll be there," Carlisle's voice was pure ice.

Outside the club, Cristobal helped Camilla into the passenger seat of his sports car. He leaned over her to buckle her seatbelt. Camilla was already half-asleep.

"Never again..." she mumbled into the leather seat.

Cristobal looked at her sleeping face. His eyes were heavy with years of hidden love.

"I'll take care of you, Camilla," he whispered. "Starting tonight."

He shut the door and drove away into the night.

Ten minutes later, Carlisle's Maybach screeched to a halt in front of the club. He stormed through the front doors, his face dark with fury.

He found the empty VIP booth. He saw the empty shot glasses. He demanded the club manager show him the security footage.

Carlisle watched the screen. He saw Cristobal wrapping his arm around Camilla's waist. He saw them leaving together.

A violent, sickening wave of jealousy crashed into his chest. His veins popped against his skin.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Cristobal's number.

"Cristobal West," Carlisle growled, sounding like a demon. "Where are you taking my wife?"

Cristobal's voice came through the speaker, calm and mocking.

"Your 'wife'? I thought you divorced her tonight, Carlisle. She's not your property anymore."

Carlisle grabbed an empty glass off the table and hurled it against the brick wall. It shattered into a hundred pieces.

"I'm asking you one last time. Where. Is. She?"

Cristobal laughed coldly. "Somewhere you'll never find her. Don't bother."

The line went dead.

Carlisle stood in the middle of the ruined booth. His chest heaved. He stared at the broken glass on the floor. He had wanted this divorce. He had demanded it. So why did the thought of her with another man make him want to burn the entire city to the ground?

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.

Camilla sat on the edge of the cheap mattress in her temporary apartment.

She scrolled through the endless sea of hateful comments on her phone. Her face was paper-white. Her fingers trembled so hard she almost dropped the device. But her eyes were turning colder by the second.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming call. It was her father, Donnie Mcneil.

"Camilla!" Donnie's voice was frantic. "What's going on? The news is saying... Is it true? Are you okay?"

Camilla took a deep breath. She forced her voice to stay steady.

"Dad, I'm fine. It's all lies. Carlisle is... manipulating the story. I need to handle this myself."

Donnie roared into the phone. "That bastard! I'll call him! I'll-"

"No, Dad. Please," Camilla interrupted firmly. "Let me deal with it. I'll explain everything later. I love you."

She hung up the phone. A fierce, burning resolve ignited in her chest.

She walked to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face. She applied a light layer of makeup to hide the dark circles under her eyes. She put on a sharp, tailored black blazer.

She walked out of the apartment and hailed a cab straight to the Stark Enterprises headquarters.

She walked through the revolving glass doors of Stark Tower. Her heels clicked loudly against the marble floor.

Tiffany Reed, the front desk receptionist, saw her coming. Tiffany's eyes darted nervously around the lobby. She stepped out from behind the desk to block Camilla's path.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Stark... I mean, Ms. Mcneil," Tiffany stammered. "Do you have an appointment?"

Camilla didn't even slow down. Her voice was sharp and commanding.

"No appointment. But Carlisle will see me. Now."

Tiffany reached for her radio to call security. Camilla ignored her. She walked straight to the private executive elevator. She didn't bother with her deactivated access card. Instead, she locked eyes with Tiffany. "Call the top floor," Camilla ordered, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument. "Tell Carlisle I am here to sign the final asset transfer documents for the divorce. If he wants my signature on the remaining shares, he will let me up this second." Tiffany swallowed hard, her hands trembling as she picked up the phone. A moment later, the receptionist nodded nervously and pressed a button under the desk. The private elevator chimed, its doors sliding open.

The elevator shot up to the top floor. When the doors opened, Camilla stepped out. The entire floor went dead silent. Employees stared at her, whispering behind their hands.

Camilla ignored them. She walked straight to Carlisle's massive corner office.

The heavy wooden door was cracked open. A soft, whiny voice drifted out into the hallway.

"Carlisle, I'm so scared... What if she comes after me? She must hate me so much..."

Camilla's footsteps stopped. She recognized Celine's voice instantly. Her stomach violently contracted. A wave of pure, unadulterated rage washed over her.

She shoved the door open. It slammed against the wall with a loud bang.

Inside, Carlisle was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk. Celine was sitting in the chair right next to him. She was leaning forward, her delicate hand resting on Carlisle's forearm. She looked like a fragile, frightened bird.

The second Celine saw Camilla, she snatched her hand back. She gasped and pressed her hand to her chest, acting terrified.

Carlisle's face instantly darkened. He stood up abruptly.

"How did you get up here?" he demanded.

Camilla didn't even look at him. She locked her eyes onto Celine. Her voice was pure venom.

"So, this is the 'first love'? The homewrecker who couldn't wait to slither back?"

Celine's eyes instantly filled with tears. A single tear rolled down her perfectly powdered cheek. Her voice shook.

"Camilla, please... I never meant to hurt you. Carlisle and I... we just couldn't deny our feelings..."

Carlisle immediately stepped around the desk. He stood directly in front of Celine, shielding her with his body. He glared at Camilla.

"That's enough, Camilla! Don't you dare speak to Celine like that!"

Camilla let out a harsh, bitter laugh. Seeing him protect another woman right in front of her face felt like a knife twisting in her gut. But it also felt completely ridiculous.

"Protecting her? In my face?" Camilla sneered. "You really have no shame, Carlisle."

Carlisle's eyes were cold and hard. "You're the one with no shame, coming here after what you did. Security is on their way. Leave now, before I have you removed."

Camilla took a step closer to him. She refused to back down.

"I'm not leaving until I get the truth out! You lied to everyone! You emotionally cheated on me for years, and now you're painting me as the villain?"

Celine suddenly buried her face in her hands. She let out a loud, pathetic sob.

"It's all my fault... I should just disappear... Carlisle, maybe I should go..."

Carlisle immediately turned and placed a comforting hand on Celine's shoulder. Then he turned back to Camilla. He looked at her like she was a piece of trash on his shoe.

"You see what you're doing? You're upsetting her. Celine is innocent in all this. She doesn't deserve your harassment."

Camilla stared at Celine's fake tears. A sudden, overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit her. Her shoulders dropped slightly. She realized in that exact moment that fighting with these two was completely pointless. Carlisle was blind, and Celine was a master manipulator.

She took a step back. The burning anger in her eyes died out. It was replaced by a dead, hollow emptiness.

"Innocent," Camilla whispered flatly. "Right."

Two large security guards rushed into the office.

"Escort Ms. Mcneil out of the building," Carlisle ordered coldly. "She's not allowed on the premises again."

The guards stepped toward her. Camilla didn't fight them. She didn't scream. She just looked at Carlisle one last time. There was no anger left. No sadness. Just absolute, chilling disappointment.

She turned around and walked out of the office. The guards followed closely behind her. She kept her spine perfectly straight. She walked into the elevator and pressed the lobby button.

The second the metal doors slid shut, a single tear escaped her eye. She wiped it away viciously. Her eyes hardened into steel.

Up in the office, Carlisle stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. He watched Camilla's tiny figure walk out of the building and onto the busy street. A strange, hollow feeling opened up in his chest.

But Celine quickly walked up behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Carlisle, thank you for protecting me," she whispered softly. "But I'm worried... what if she tries to hurt you?"