SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Rose stood on the rooftop of a building across from the Grand Plaza Hotel, her face lit by the orange glow of

flames. The night air carried smoke and screams to her ears, a symphony of destruction that made her heart

race. She laughed, the sound bursting from her throat in waves, wild and uncontrolled.

"Look at it burn," she whispered, then laughed again, louder this time. "Look at it all burn!"

From this height, she could see everything, fire trucks with lights flashing, ambulances lined up along the street,

police pushing crowds back from danger. The once-beautiful hotel was now a blazing skeleton, its west wing

completely collapsed, windows shattered across its face like broken teeth. The ballroom where Camille had stood

so proudly just hours before was now a pit of flames and black smoke.

Rose's laughter died suddenly, replaced by a strange, hollow silence. She stepped closer to the edge of the roof,

her eyes fixed on the destruction below. All those months of planning. All those careful preparations. All leading

to this moment of victory.

So why didn't it feel like enough?

The wind shifted, bringing a stronger smell of smoke. Rose breathed it in deeply, as if trying to consthe

disaster she had created. Her fingers gripped the rooftop railing, knuckles white with tension.

"Are you dead, Camille?" she asked the burning building. "Are you finally, truly gone?"

Not knowing the answer gnawed at her. Rose had wanted to see Camille's face when the first bomb went off.

Wanted to witness her sister's realization that Rose had beaten her, had destroyed everything she built. Instead,

she was forced to watch from a distance, guessing at the outcome.

A helicopter circled overhead, its spotlight sweeping across the chaos. Rose stepped back from the edge, moving

into shadow. Getting caught now would ruin everything.

She pulled out her phone, checking news sites for updates. The first reports were already appearing:

"EXPLOSION AT CHARITY GALA"

"MULTIPLE CASUALTIES REPORTED IN HOTEL BOMBING"

"PHOENIX FOUNDATION EVENT TARGETED IN TERRORIST ATTACK"

Rose scrolled rapidly, searching for one name, Camille Kane. No mention yet of whether she had escaped or

perished. The uncertainty was maddening.

The phone rang in her hand, startling her. Mikhail's number appeared on the screen.

"Yes?" she answered.

"It is done," Mikhail said, his accent thicker than usual. "All devices detonated."

"I can see that," Rose replied, irritation edging her voice. "What about the targets? Camille Kane? Victoria Kane?"

A pause. "Unknown. Many ambulances. Many injured."

Follow on NovᴇlEnglish.nᴇt

"That's not good enough!" Rose shouted, her calm facade cracking. "I need to know if they're dead!"

Another helicopter passed overhead, its roar drowning out Mikhail's response. When the noise faded, he was

saying, "...must leave the city now. Police will be looking..."

"I'm not leaving until | know they're dead," Rose cut him off. "Not after everything I've done to make this

happen."

"Foolish," Mikhail said bluntly. "You stay, you get caught."

Rose laughed again, the sound sharp and brittle in the night air. "They need to know it was me. They need to

know why their perfect world burned down around them."

"They will know. But you won't be there to see if you're in prison." Mikhail's voice hardened. "Payment was for

job, not suicide mission."

Rose barely heard him. Her attention had returned to the burning hotel, to the chaos spreading across the plaza

below. Somewhere in that mess was the answer she needed.

"I'm going closer," she decided suddenly. "I need to see."

"No!" Mikhail's voice rose with alarm. "Too dangerous. Too many police."

Rose ended the call without responding. She had ctoo far to hide in shadows now. She needed to see the

destruction up close, to feel the heat of the flames on her face, to know with certainty that Camille had finally

been erased from the world.

She took the service stairs down from the roof, mind racing with possibilities. The black wig and glasses in her

bag would provide sdisguise. She could blend with the crowd of onlookers, perhaps even pose as a

concerned witness. No one would be looking for Rose Lewis there—they'd be searching for her far from the

scene.

The stairwell was dark, lit only by emergency lights that cast eerie shadows on the walls. As Rose descended,

her laughter echoed around her, bouncing off concrete, creating a chorus of madness that followed her down

and down and down.

By the tshe reached the bottom floor, the laughter had transformed into something else, a kind of wild

delight that made her feel more alive than she had in years. Her entire body tingled with energy. Every sense

seemed heightened. The smell of smoke from outside. The distant wail of sirens. The taste of success on her

tongue.

She paused at the building's exit, watching through glass doors as people ran past. Swere covered in soot,

their fancy clothes torn and dirtied. Survivors of her masterpiece. Rose studied their faces, searching for signs of

Camille or Victoria among them.

Nothing.

Rose pushed open the door and stepped outside, immediately engulfed by chaos. The street wasz jammed with

emergency vehicles, their lights painting everything in pulses of red and blue. Police shouted orders. Paramedics

rushed past with stretchers. Smoke hung in the air like fog, burning her eyes and throat.

She moved through the crowd, invisible in the confusion. No one noticed another shocked face, another person

staring at the burning building. Rose pulled the wig from her bag and slipped it on, then added the glasses. The

wheel

transformation was simple but effective, no one looking for Rose

Lewis would see her here.

As she pushed closer to the police barriers, Rose caught snatches of

conversation around her:

they're saying at least three bombs..."

"... someone targeted the Phoenix Foundation..."

"....dozens injured, maybe worse...."

".... they got Victoria Kane out but...."

Rose froze, focusing on a man speaking to a police officer.

"I saw them take her out on a stretcher," the man was saying. "Victoria Kane. She

collapsed right after they rescued her adopted daughter from inside." Rescued. The word hit Rose like a physical

blow. Camille had been rescued. She wasn't dead.

A scream built in Rose's throat, threatening to escape. She swallowed it back, hands clenched so tightly her nails

cut into her palms. The pain helped focus her thoughts.

If Camille was alive, then Rose hadn't won yet. The destruction around her, the burning building, the injured

guests, the ruined gala, none of it mattered if Camille still breathed.

Rose pushed through the crowd until she reached the line of ambulances. Medical personnel rushed between

them, carrying the injured, calling orders. She scanned each face, each stretcher, looking for any sign of her

sister.

There, a flash of blue fabric. The color of Camille's gown. Rose moved closer, peering through the open doors of

an ambulance.

A woman lay inside, oxygen mask covering her face, paramedics working around her. But it wasn't Camille. Just

another guest in a blue dress, another victim of Rose's plan.

Frustration boiled inside her. Rose turned in a circle, trying to see everything at once. Where was Camille? Where

was Victoria? Had they already been taken to a

hospital?

Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏm

A police officer approached, eyeing her suspiciously. "Ma'am, you need to step back behind the barricade."

Rose nodded, forcing her face into an expression of shock and concern. "I'm

sorry. | was looking for my friend. She was at the gala."

"All victims are being transported to Memorial Hospital or City General," the officer

said, more gently now. "You should check there."

"Thank you," Rose whispered, already backing away.

Memorial Hospital. City General. New destinations. New opportunities to finish what she'd started.

As Rose moved away from the police barricade, her gaze returned to the burning

hotel. The flames had grown higher, consuming what remained of the ballroom where her sister had stood so

proudly. Where Victoria Kane had watched her adopted daughter shine. Where the Phoenix Foundation had been

celebrated.

All of it now ash and rubble.

Rose began to laugh again, softly at first, then louder. A few people nearby glanced at her strangely, but in the

chaos of the night, a woman laughing seemed

no stranger than people crying or shouting or staring in shocked silence.

Her laughter was wild, unrestrained. The sound of something breaking free after being caged too long. The

sound of madness, perhaps, but also of purest joy. Because even if Camille had survived, Rose had still hurt her.

Had still destroyed the foundation she'd built. Had still proved that nowhere was safe, no triumph secure.

And she wasn't finished yet.

Rose turned away from the burning building, her mind already racing toward new plans, new attacks. The

hospitals would be chaotic tonight. Security would be focused on caring for victims, not watching for threats. If

Camille was there, she would be vulnerable. If Victoria was there...

Rose's laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by a cold smile. Perhaps the night's work wasn't complete after all.

She disappeared into the crowd, just another face in the sea of onlookers. Just another shadow moving through

the smoke-filled night. But unlike the shocked bystanders around her, Rose moved with purpose. With certainty.

The destruction behind her was just the beginning. The ruins of the Grand Plaza Hotel were merely the first act in

her revenge.

And as sirens wailed and people cried and the building continued to burn, Rose Lewis laughed once more, the

sound lost in the chaos she had created, but the feeling of it vibrating through her entire body, a savage

pleasure that nothing and

no one could take away.

Not even Camille.