His Ex Wife Is A Billionaire

Chapter 675

Chapter 675

Camille arrived at her design studio only to find Elva sitting rigidly, as if awaiting a verdict.

“Are you the wife of Mr. Chambers?” she inquired with a touch of surprise.

Elva, flustered, rose to her feet. “Ms. Camille,” she corrected, her voice a soft tremor.

Camille’s gaze swept over the woman before her. She had expected the grand dame of the Chambers family to be an epitome of sophistication and brashness. But the reality was quite different.

Elva was clad in a simple white power suit with her hair pulled back into a neat chignon. Despite the impeccable makeup, it couldn’t mask her pallor and the weariness in her eyes.

“Mrs. Chambers, please take a seat,” Camille offered, her voice even.

She had come with a grudge against the Chambers Group but seeing Elva, the anger just wouldn’t surface. Instead, she decided to wait and see what card Elva would play.

“Ms. Camille, I know it’s quite presumptuous of me to come unannounced, but I really need your help to design an evening gown,” Elva pleaded urgently. “Money is no object. Whatever others can offer, I can double, triple it. I just need you to make a dress for me. Please,”

“Mrs. Chambers, I’m just a designer, Camille chided gently, noting how Elva’s hands trembled around her teacup, her eyes glazed over. “But you should know, ever since my studio opened, we’ve operated strictly by appointment. No one can bypass this rule.”

interrupted by a sudden, soft thud Elva

Chambers! What are you doing?” Camille

pulled Elva to her feet, Camille’s eyes caught sight of bruised and bloodied skin beneath the sleeve that had ridden up – a sight that struck her to

abuse at the hands of the

truly stand out. No one else’s work is even worth considering,” Elva said, her

voice hoarse as she tried to maintain composure. “I’ll help you, let’s take your measurements. Perhaps I have something ready–to–wear that would suit you.”

she clung to Camille’s hand. “Thank you,

staff and assistants dismissed, it was just the two of them. Camille took Elva’s measurements and selected three gowns that matched her status

do you think of these three? If they’re not to your liking, I can find others,” Camille offered.

much consideration, Elva clutched a forest green gown close, as if fearing Camille might change

sight of Elva’s strained demeanor. “Ready–to–wear isn’t as perfect as bespoke. They might need adjustments. Why don’t you try it on and I’ll make the alterations right now?”

stepped into the

the past horrors swirled in her mind, unsettling her. She grabbed a bottle of ice–cold water from the fridge, gulping it down to quench the inner turmoil.

from the fitting room jolted

Chambers?” Camille called out, her voice laced with

came, she feared the worst and broke into

she cried

marred

her own jacket, gently lifting her up,

wake up!”

fluttered open,

filled with urgency and concern, asked, “Mrs. Chambers, what happened to you? What are these marks?”

as she turned away,

you being abused? Is Matthew hurting you?” Camille’s eyes blazed

Elva said, struggling to dress herself as she prepared to flee. “I’ll transfer the money for the dress, and

stop once it begins! You know better than anyone the humiliation and pain you’ve been enduring all these years! Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with a man worse than a beast? How much longer can you endure? Do you want to end up

burst out, her composure shattered. “Right now, I can at least survive. But if I resist, there’s only death

voice hoarse with emotion. “Not fighting back is the real dead–end! Mrs. Chambers, there’s still time to turn things around, if

shut before she could finish

stood frozen, her expression a mask of anger and indignation. A thought began to form

the studio’s front yard when another luxury sedan arrogantly pulled in, parking right in front of the villa, flouting all semblance of decorum despite the

my God, mom, what kind of dump has this little witch picked out? It’s so out of the way, the drive here was a total nightmare!” complained a woman stepping out of the car, dressed in a pink lace dress that screamed suburban chic.

Camille’s half–sister,

middle–aged woman with a pinched face and eyes that seemed perpetually arched in disapproval. It was Eunice’s mother, Mrs. Evert. “This so–called ‘renowned designer‘ is just a title she’s given herself, laying the groundwork to snag a wealthy husband. As if anyone reputable would want her once they know about her illegitimate background. To marry her? It would be a stain on the family’s reputation, utterly humiliating.”

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