Chapter 308

Chapter 308:

Now, that promise might be broken.

As consciousness slipped further away, Victoria held onto one thought, one image: Camille’s face when she had opened her eyes in Alexander’s arms. Alive. Safe. Strong enough to continue without Victoria. That would have to be enough.

The emergency room doors burst open as new trauma patients arrived from the hotel explosion. Doctors shouted orders. Machines beeped urgently. And Victoria Kane, one of the most powerful women in the world, was rushed deeper into the hospital, fighting for each breath, each heartbeat, each remaining moment of life.

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. “It all burns!”

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 consume the 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 the 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.

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