Chapter 293

Chapter 293:

Camille shook her head. “No. That’s what she wants. To disrupt the gala. To make us run scared.” She looked at Alexander. “Double the security around Victoria. I’m going to finish what we started tonight.”

As Alexander moved to comply, Camille took Victoria’s hand. “I won’t let her ruin this. Not after everything you’ve done to make it happen.”

Victoria studied Camille’s face, then nodded slowly. “Very well. But you stay where I can see you. No wandering off.”

The orchestra continued playing, the dance floor filling with elegantly dressed couples. The charity auction was about to begin, with priceless art and luxury experiences up for bid. The gala was in full swing, with hours still to go. But beneath the glittering surface, tension ran like an electric current. Security personnel moved through the crowd, checking every server, every staff member. Alexander stood at Camille’s side, hyperaware, watching every movement in the ballroom.

As Victoria presented the first auction item, a week at a private island resort, Camille felt the weight of Rose’s presence like a shadow. She was here. Maybe not physically anymore, but her threat remained—waiting. Watching. Planning. The feeling of danger hung over Camille like a storm cloud, making the hairs on her arms stand on end. Whatever Rose had planned, it was still coming.

The gala continued around them—champagne flowing, music playing, wealthy donors bidding higher and higher amounts for charity. But for Camille, every moment stretched with tension, every laugh seemed too loud, every movement in the corner of her eye a potential threat.

Rose had made her move tonight, not to attack, but to send a message: I can reach you anywhere. Even in your moment of triumph. Even surrounded by security.

And there was nothing Camille could do but wait for the next strike, knowing it would come when they least expected it.

Rose adjusted the black bow tie of her server’s uniform, checking her reflection in the service elevator’s mirrored wall. The disguise was perfect—her hair tucked under a cap, her face subtly altered with makeup to change her bone structure. No one would recognize her as the woman in the green dress who had shown herself to Camille earlier.

That had been the distraction. This was the real plan.

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“Two minutes,” the man beside her said, his thick Russian accent making the words sound heavier.

Anton Bessonov had sent his best, Mikhail— a man whose hands had ended many lives. Tonight, those hands carried a black duffel bag that would end many more.

Rose nodded, glancing at her watch. “Security will be focused on the ballroom now. The maintenance corridors should be clear.”

The elevator stopped at the basement level. When the doors opened, Rose peered out first, confirming that the hallway was empty before stepping out. Mikhail followed, his movements fluid despite his large frame.

“This way,” Rose whispered, leading him down a dim corridor lined with pipes. The building plans she had memorized guided her through the maze of service areas beneath the Grand Plaza Hotel.

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