SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Special Agent Diana Chen's eyes hurt. They were red and dry from staring at screens all night. Cold coffee cups

crowded her desk. She hadn't slept. She couldn't sleep. Not until she found what she needed in the videos from

the bombed hotel.

"Play it again," she told the tech guy sitting next to her. Her voice was rough from too much coffee and not

enough rest. "Slow it down when it hits 9:42."

The screen flickered as the video went backward. It showed a hallway near the hotel's electrical room. This

camera had survived when most others got destroyed in the blast. The tat the bottom showed 9:41 PM.

Chen leaned in close. Her whole body tense with hope.

A woman walked into view. She wore a hotel worker's uniform with a cap pulled down to hide her face. She

moved like she knew exactly what she was doing. She checked her watch, then looked around to make sure no

one saw her. At the electrical panel, she stopped. She took something from her pocket and stuck it to the wall.

"Stop it right there," Chen said, her heart pounding in her chest. "Zoom in on her face."

The tech hit skeys, and the image got bigger. The woman had turned a little toward the camera as she left,

giving them a glimpse of her face.

"Make it brighter," Chen said, barely breathing. "And sharpen the contrast."

As the image cleared up, Chen felt a jolt run through her body. Even with the cap and uniform, she knew that

face. She'd spent weeks burning it into her memory, studying every line and curve.

Rose Lewis.

"It's her," Chen whispered, then louder, "It's her! We've got her on camera planting the bomb."

The tech nodded. "We have her on other cameras too. Swoman, different bombs."

Chen grabbed her phone and called her partner with shaking hands. "Morgan, it's Chen. We've got her. Clear

video of Rose Lewis planting at least four bombs. It's definitely her."

She listened for a moment, then hung up. "Print everything," she told the tech. "I need pictures from every

angle. And sendall the video files right now."

Within an hour, Chen stood in the FBI office's meeting room. Pictures from the cameras covered the walls. Agents

crowded around as she pointed to the clearest photo, Rose Lewis attaching a bomb to a column near the hotel

kitchen.

"This is who did it," Chen said, her voice hard with anger and relief. "Rose Lewis, 28 years old. The adopted sister

of Camille Kane. She has a history of twisting the truth and hating both Camille and Victoria Kane."

Agent Morgan stepped up beside her. "We also have Herod Preston's statement linking her to planning the

bombing. And we found bomb-making stuff in a storage unit she rented under a fake name."

"So we have why she did it, how she did it, and now proof she did it," the field director summed up. "Where is

she now?"

"We don't know," Chen admitted, frustration making her chest tight. "Last tanyone saw her was near the

hotel right after the first explosion. We think she stayed to watch what she'd done."

"People like this often do that," Morgan added. "They want to see the pain they caused."

The field director looked at the photos, his face dark with worry. "This was an attack that killed six innocent

people and hurt over forty more. We need to find her. Now."

"We've already frozen her bank accounts," Chen said, counting off on her fingers. "Flagged her passport and ID.

Put alerts at all airports, train stations, and borders."

"Not enough," the director cut in. "We need to go public. Full media coverage. | want her face on every TV and

phone screen in America by noon."

The agents scattered to do their

jobs. Chen stayed behind, staring at the wall of pictures, Rose Lewis sneaking through the hotel in

different disguises, carefully placing bombs that would kill people who had done nothing wrong, alt because she

couldn't let go of her hate for her sister.

Chen stepped closer to the largest photo, her fingers lightly touching the image of the woman's face. "I'm

coming for you," she whispered, hot tears welling in her eyes. The faces of the victims flashed in her mind, a

father of three, a honeymooning couple, a retired teacher People who should be alive today.

"No matter where you run," Chen promised, her voice breaking with exhaustion and fury, "no matter how deep

you hide. I will find you. I will make you face what you've done."

She pressed her forehead against the cold wall, letting the tears fall freely now. This case had burrowed under

her skin in a way none other had before. Perhaps it was the senselessness of it all. Or maybe it was because

she'd spent so many sleepless nights studying Rose's face that she felt like she knew her, knew the twisted mind

behind those eyes.

"You wanted attention," Chen mumbled, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. "Well, now you've got it. The

whole country will know your face by sundown."

She straightened her shoulders, drawing a deep breath. The moment of weakness had passed. Now there was

only the hunt. And Diana Chen was a hunter who never gave up.

Behind her, the door opened. Morgan stood there, holding two fresh cups of coffee.

"You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his tired face.

Chen nodded, taking the offered coffee. "I will be. When we put her in cuffs."

"We will," Morgan said. "She's smart, but she's not smarter than all of us."

Chen looked back at the wall of evidence, the fruits of her sleepless nights and dogged determination.

"No," she said softly. "She's not. And her mistake was thinking she could get away with this."

She sipped the hot coffee, the bitter taste matching her resolve. "Let's bring her

in."