Chapter 275
Chapter 275:
They were wrong.
Rose dried her face and began packing her few belongings. She couldn’t stay here anymore. She needed a new hiding place, somewhere closer to the Grand Plaza Hotel. Somewhere she could watch the chaos unfold.
As she zipped her bag closed, Rose felt calmer than she had in days. The path forward was clear now. One final strike. One last chance at the revenge she deserved.
Camille had taken everything from her—her future, her reputation, her freedom. Now Rose would take everything from Camille, starting with the precious charity gala she refused to cancel.
The Phoenix Foundation. How fitting that it would all end in flames.
Rose checked the room one last time, making sure she’d left nothing behind. Then she slipped out the back door, pulling a baseball cap low over her face.
Three days until the gala. Three days to prepare for the biggest night of her life. Three days until Camille Kane learned what true loss felt like.
Pain came first. A deep, burning ache in his chest that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat. Then sounds filtered in—the steady beep of machines, the squeak of rubber-soled shoes on linoleum, hushed voices just beyond his reach.
Herod Preston opened his eyes.
The hospital room swam into focus slowly. White ceiling. Blue curtains. Tubes running into his arms. And a man in a dark suit sitting beside him, watching him with tired eyes.
“Mr. Preston,” the man said, leaning forward. “I’m Special Agent Morgan Witn of the FBI. Can you hear me?”
Herod tried to speak, but his throat felt like sandpaper. A nurse appeared, holding a small cup of water with a straw. He sipped, the cool liquid both painful and soothing as it went down.
“Yes,” he managed finally, his voice a raspy whisper. “I hear you.”
Agent Morgan nodded to someone Herod couldn’t see. A woman stepped into view, also in a dark suit.
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“Agent Chen,” she introduced herself. “You’ve been unconscious for four days, Mr. Preston. Do you remember what happened?”
The memories hit him like a physical blow. The motel room. The phone call to the FBI. Rose’s face when she realized what he was doing. The sound of gunshots. The burning pain in his chest.
“Rose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Rose shot me.”
The agents exchanged glances.
“Rose Lewis,” Agent Morgan confirmed. “We’ve been looking for her, but she’s disappeared.”
Herod closed his eyes briefly, gathering his strength. Each word cost him, but he needed to speak. He needed to finally tell the truth.
“She was behind everything,” he said, each word careful and deliberate. “The bombings. The sabotage. All of it.”
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.
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