SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 158

Chapter 158

Rose sat in the dingy motel room, the glow of the television casting harsh shadows across her face. Her newly dyed black hair hung in wet strands around her shoulders, dripping onto the worn carpet. The cheap hair dye had stained her fingernails dark, making them look dirty no matter how she scrubbed.

"Breaking news in the Grand Plaza Hotel bombing," the anchor announced. "The FBI has released security footage clearly identifying the main suspect."

Rose leaned forward, breath caught in her throat.

Her own face filled the screen, not her current disguise, but her real face, captured in perfect clarity as she placed an explosive device near the hotel's kitchen. The footage showed her checking her watch, attaching the bomb, and then looking up briefly, giving the camera a clean shot of her features.

"The FBI has identified the suspect as Rose Lewis, 28, the adopted sister of Camille Kane, whose Phoenix Foundation was hosting the charity gala targeted in the attack."

Rose grabbed the remote and turned up the volume.

"A nationwide manhunt is now underway for Lewis, who is considered armed and extremely dangerous. The bombing killed six people and injured more than forty others. Sources close to the investigation say Lewis had a long-standing grudge against her sister."

Photos flashed across the screen, Rose at social events, Rose with Stefan, and finally, a photo of Rose and Camille together years ago, before everything fell apart. The sight of that last image made Rose's stomach turn. She had been smiling at the camera, arm around Camille, looking for all the world like a loving sister while secretly plotting her destruction.

"The FBI has released these images to airports, bus terminals, and border crossings nationwide," the anchor continued. "Citizens are warned not to approach Lewis if spotted, but to contact authorities immediately."

Rose muted the television as they switched to an interview with a terrorism expert. She stood and moved to the grimy window, peering through a gap in the curtains at the nearly empty parking lot. No police cars yet. No flashing lights. But it was only a matter of time.

She'd been careless. Too focused on ensuring the bombs were placed perfectly to notice the security cameras. Too confident in her disguise. Too eager to watch Camille's triumph turn to ash.

And now her face was on every screen in America.

Rose turned back to the television, which now showed footage of Camille leaving the hospital, Alexander Pierce at her side, both surrounded by security personnel. The caption below read: "Bombing victim Camille Kane visits her adopted mother, Victoria Kane, who remains hospitalized after the attack."

So Victoria had survived. And Camille was still standing, still moving forward despite everything Rose had taken from her.

Something hot and ugly twisted in Rose's chest. No matter what she did, no matter how perfectly she planned, Camille always emerged from the ashes. Always found a way to rebuild.

"Why won't you just break?" Rose whispered at the screen, at Camille's composed face and straight shoulders. "Why won't you stay down?"

The answer came as she watched Alexander guide Camille into a waiting car, his hand protective at the small of her back, his body angled to shield her from the cameras. And then the broadcast cut to footage of Victoria Kane, being wheeled into the hospital days earlier, Camille clutching her hand as if afraid to let go.

Of course. While Rose had destroyed the Phoenix Foundation, the hotel, the physical things Camille had built, she hadn't destroyed what truly mattered to her sister. She hadn't taken away the people Camille loved.

Victoria and Alexander. The new family Camille had built to replace the one Rose had stolen. The source of her strength, her resilience, her ability to rise again and again.

Rose grabbed her notebook from the bedside table and began to write, ideas flowing faster than her pen could capture them. Not buildings this time. Not foundations or projects or material things. Those could be rebuilt. Those losses could be overcome.

No, this time she would strike at the heart. At the two people who gave Camille the strength to withstand everything Rose had done so far.

"The mother and the lover," Rose murmured, circling the words she had written. "Take them away, and what's left of the mighty Camille Kane?"

She knew the answer: nothing. Just a shell, empty and broken, like Rose herself had been after being forced from the Lewis family, after watching Camille take everything that should have been hers.

The television changed to footage of the hospital where Victoria was being treated. Security guards stood at every entrance. Reporters clustered nearby, hoping for updates on the powerful woman's condition.

Rose studied the building's layout, noting the ambulance entrance, the service doors, the helicopter pad on the roof. So many ways in, if you were clever enough. So many vulnerabilities, if you looked with the right eyes.