His Ex Wife Is A Billionaire

Chapter 675

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.”

She was interrupted by a sudden, soft thud Elva had collapsed to her knees!

“Mrs. Chambers! What are you doing?” Camille exclaimed, rushing to help her up.

As she 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 the core.

Memories of her mother enduring humiliation and abuse at the hands of the man who called himself

her father flashed before Camille’s eyes.

“I must get a dress from you because only a creation by you can truly stand out. No one else’s work is

even worth considering,” Elva said, her body trembling, her voice choked with unshed tears. “If you

refuse me, I’ll stay on my knees right here!”

“Please, don’t do this. Stand up and let’s talk,” Camille 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.”

Gratitude filled Elva’s reddened eyes as she clung to Camille’s hand. “Thank you, truly, thank you so

much.”

With the studio staff and assistants dismissed, it was just the two of them. Camille took Elva’s

measurements and selected three gowns that matched her status and poise.

“Mrs. Chambers, what do you think of these three? If they’re not to your liking, I can find others,”

Camille offered.

Without much consideration, Elva clutched a forest green gown close, as if fearing Camille might

change her mind. “No trouble at all, this one will do. It’s perfect.”

Camille’s heart clenched at the 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?”

Hesitantly, Elva stepped into the fitting room.

As Camille waited, 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.

A sudden thud from the fitting room jolted her.

*Mrs. Chambers? Are you alright? Mrs. Chambers?” Camille called out, her voice laced with panic.

When no answer came, she feared the worst and broke into the room.

“Mrs. Chambers!” she cried out.

Elva had fainted, half–dressed, revealing a back marred by old bruises and fresh wounds.

Within seconds, Camille covered Elva with her own jacket, gently lifting her up, and pinching her head

to revive her.

“Mrs Chambers, wake up!”

Elva’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused

Camille, her voice filled with urgency and concern, asked, “Mrs. Chambers, what happened to you?

What are these marks?”

Tears streaked down Elva’s face as she turned away, unable to face Camille’s piercing gaze.

“Are you being abused? Is Matthew hurting you?” Camille’s eyes blazed with barely contained fury.

“Ms. Camille, that’s my personal business, please, don’t ask,” Elva said, struggling to dress herself as

she prepared to flee. “I’ll transfer the money for the dress, and my assistant will pick it up. Thank you

for your trouble.”

As Elva moved to leave, Camille shouted after her, “Mrs. Chambers! Domestic abuse will never 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 dead?”

“What choice do I have?” Elva burst out, her composure shattered. “Right now, I can at least survive.

But if I resist, there’s only death waiting for me!”

“Bullshit!” Camille spat, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Not fighting back is the real dead–end! Mrs.

Chambers, there’s still time to turn things around, if only you would…”

The door slammed shut before she could finish her sentence.

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

mind amidst the tumult of emotions.

Elva’s car had barely rolled out of 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 clearly marked

spaces.

“Oh 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. Her eyes were full of disdain.

It was Camille’s half–sister, Eunice Evert.

“It’s because the real estate’s dirt cheap around here. That penny–pinching brat is probably saving up

for her own wedding gift or something,” followed a plump, 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.”

“Hey, mom, you hit the nail on the head!”

Eunice’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together in dissatisfaction. “But I don’t get it, why didn’t we

hire a better designer for my engagement dress? Our family can certainly afford it. Why settle for this

little witch? It’s such bad luck.”

“Ah, my dear, you don’t see the bigger picture,” Mrs. Evert said, linking arms with her daughter. “Your

father has built up quite the fortune because he knew when to save and when to spend. Having Camille

design your dress is not only utilizing her skills, which would otherwise be a waste, but it’s also a test of

obedience from your father, to remind her of her place in the Evert family. Even though she shares the

name, she’ll always be beneath you, destined to play second fiddle.”

With these schemes in mind, the duo grandly entered the gates.

“Hold on, do you have an appointment?” the assistant immediately stepped in to block their path.

“An appointment? Since when do small–time shops like this need appointments?” Eunice scoffed,

rolling her eyes in disdain.

The assistant’s brows knitted together, and her demeanor turned frosty. “Without an appointment,

Designer Evert will not meet with you. Mrs. Chambers of the Chambers Group just came by without

one, and even she was turned away.”

The Chambers Group?

The Everts exchanged startled looks, their minds racing.

People from the Chambers Group, one of the top families, were coming to this little upstart’s shop for

designs? Could it be true?

Though the Everts had some assets, they were like ants compared to the might of the Chambers

Group.

“We are Camille’s family. Just let her know that her family is here to see her, and she’ll come down,”

Mrs. Evert said, resorting to revealing their identity when they failed to gain entry.

“Ah, in that case, I certainly cannot let you in,” the assistant said with an icy glance. “I’ve been with

Designer Evert for years, and I’m well aware of her situation. Besides, Designer Evert has already

stated that she has only one living mother. As far as she’s concerned, her other relatives are as good

as dead to her.”

Mrs. Evert’s face turned an angry shade of crimson.

“Dead to her? How dare that little witch!” Eunice couldn’t contain her fury, insults spilling out of her

mouth uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a chill wind seemed to blow from behind them, accompanied by the sound of measured,

heavy footsteps.

They whirled around to see a man in a commanding black suit, his presence undeniable, eyes sharp

and piercing.

Eunice stared at him, her heart pounding wildly. He was so handsome it made her want to scream. Her

fiancé, whom she’d always bragged about, paled in comparison to this man’s sheer presence.

“May I help you?” the assistant asked, puzzled.

Arnold’s icy gaze swept over Eunice, who had just spoken out of turn, making Mrs. Evert hold her

daughter even closer.

After a brief moment, Arnold turned his attention back to the assistant, the corners of his lips lifting

slightly. “Earlier, I’d commissioned Ms. Camille for a couple of suits. She informed me they were ready

for collection.”

With that, he turned on his heel, gracefully seating himself on a nearby couch, crossing his legs and

watching the spectacle unfold before him with the air of someone enjoying a theater show.

“Please proceed with your work. Attend to my business once you’re done. There’s no rush.”

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