SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan)

Chapter 226
Chapter 226
Victoria Kane stepped out of Kane Industries at precisely 6:30 PM, flanked by two security guards who had been assigned to
protect her after James's direct threat. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the sidewalk as her black sedan waited
at the curb, engine running, ready to take her to meet Camille for dinner at their favorite restaurant.
Camille emerged from the building seconds later, her own security detail creating a protective barrier around her as she moved
toward the car. The past twenty-four hours had been exhausting - coordinating with the FBI about the manhunt for James,
visiting Alexander in the hospital, implementing new security protocols for everyone James had threatened.
"Ready?" Victoria asked as Camille approached the sedan.
"More than ready," Camille replied, sliding into the back seat beside Victoria. "I need a normal evening after everything that's
happened."
The security guards performed their final check of the vehicle and surrounding area before taking their positions in the escort car
that would follow them to the restaurant. Everything appeared routine, professional, secure. Victoria's head of security had
assured her that James Whitfield would not be able to get close to them with these precautions in place.
Victoria's sedan pulled away from Kane Industries and merged into the heavy Manhattan traffic. The escort car followed at a
discrete distance, maintaining visual contact while avoiding the appearance of an obvious security convoy.
Neither Victoria nor Camille noticed the utility van that had been parked across the street for the past three hours, or the way it
smoothly joined the flow of traffic behind the escort car.
"How's Alexander feeling?" Victoria asked as they drove through midtown.
"Better. The doctors say the sedative is almost completely out of his system. He should be discharged tomorrow morning."
Camille's voice carried relief mixed with lingering fear. "Victoria, I keep thinking about what would have happened if he hadn't
activated that emergency alert."
"Don't think about it," Victoria said firmly. "Alexander survived because he was smart and prepared. That's what matters now."

But even as Victoria spoke reassuring words, she felt tension coiled in her chest like a spring. James Whitfield had already
proven willing to commit murder. The fact that he had failed to kill Alexander didn't mean he would give up - it meant he would be
more desperate and dangerous than ever.
The sedan turned onto Fifth Avenue, heading toward the Upper East Side restaurant where they had reservations. Traffic was
heavy but moving steadily, and Victoria began to relax slightly as they put distance between themselves and the business district
where James had last been seen.
That's when everything went wrong.
The utility van accelerated suddenly, swerving around the escort car and ramming into the side of Victoria's sedan with
devastating force. The impact sent their car spinning across two lanes of traffic before it slammed into a parked delivery truck.
Victoria felt her world explode into chaos - the screaming of twisted metal, the sharp crack of breaking glass, the acrid smell of
leaking fuel and deployed airbags. Her head struck the side window with enough force to leave her dazed and bleeding.
"Camille!" Victoria called out, her voice weak and disoriented.
"I'm here," Camille replied, but her voice sounded strange, muffled. Victoria could see her daughter slumped against the opposite
door, a thin line of blood running down her forehead.
The escort car had been forced to stop by the collision, and Victoria could see her security guards jumping out of their vehicle,

weapons drawn, shouting into their radios for backup. But they were too far away to help immediately.
The doors of the utility van opened, and three men in tactical gear emerged. They moved with military precision, ignoring the
chaos of the traffic accident and the approaching security guards. Two of them carried what looked like riot control weapons,
while the third held a device that Victoria recognized with growing horror as a gas dispersal unit.
James Whitfield stepped out of the van's passenger seat, no longer bothering to hide his identity. He wore a bulletproof vest over
his expensive suit and carried himself with the confidence of someone who had planned every detail of this operation.
"Victoria Kane," James called out, his voice carrying clearly over the noise of the accident. "It's time for our final conversation."
One of James's men fired a canister through the sedan's broken window. Victoria heard the hiss of escaping gas and
immediately tried to hold her breath, but it was too late. The chemical filled the car's interior within seconds, and Victoria felt her
consciousness slipping away even as she tried to reach for Camille.

The last thing Victoria saw before the sedative took full effect was James's face pressed against the car window, smiling with
cold satisfaction.
"Sweet dreams, Mrs. Kane. When you wake up, we'll finish what my father started twenty years ago."
Alexander sat in his hospital bed, impatiently waiting for the doctors to complete his discharge paperwork, when his phone
buzzed with an emergency alert. The message was from Kane Industries security: "Code Red. Principal assets compromised.
Immediate response required."
Alexander's blood turned to ice as he read the brief details. Victoria and Camille's sedan had been attacked on Fifth Avenue.
Both women were missing. The security escort had been neutralized with riot control gas. No sign of the attackers or their
vehicle.
Alexander threw off his hospital gown and grabbed his clothes, ignoring the protests of the nurse who had been monitoring his
recovery. He had to get to the scene immediately. He had to find Camille and Victoria before James could carry out whatever he
had planned for them.
By the time Alexander reached Fifth Avenue, the area was swarming with NYPD vehicles, FBI agents, and emergency
responders. The twisted wreckage of Victoria's sedan sat in the middle of the street like a monument to James's escalation from
corporate sabotage to direct violence.
Alexander found FBI Special Agent Diana Chen coordinating the investigation from a mobile command post that had been set up
on the sidewalk.
"Any leads?" Alexander asked, his voice hoarse with desperation.
"We're analyzing traffic camera footage and interviewing witnesses," Agent Chen replied. "But Alexander have to be honest with
you - James Whitfield planned this operation carefully. The utility van was stolen, the license plates were fake, and the route he
took avoiding most of our surveillance coverage."
Alexander felt his chest tighten with panic. "How long do we have?"
"I don't know. James's previous pattern suggests he prefers psychological torture
to quick resolution. He'll want Victoria and Camille to suffer before he kills them."

The words hit Alexander like physical blows. The two women he loved most in the world were in the hands of a man who had
spent fifteen years planning their destruction. A man who had already proven willing to commit murder to satisfy his need for
revenge.
Alexander's phone rang. The caller ID showed Richard Lewis - Camille's father.
"Alexander, please tell me the news reports are wrong," Richard's voice was tight with barely controlled panic. "Please tell me my
daughter is safe."

"I can't tell you that," Alexander replied honestly. "James has them both. The FBI
is doing everything they can, but..."
"But what?" Richard's voice cracked with emotion.
"But James has been planning this for fifteen years. He's not going to make it easy for us to find them."
Alexander could hear Margaret Lewis crying in the background as Richard processed the implications of their daughter's
kidnapping.
"We're coming to New York immediately," Richard said. "Eduardo has already chartered a plane. We'll be there in three hours."
"Mr. Lewis, there's nothing you can do here that the FBI isn't already doing."
"There's something I can do,"
Richard replied, his voice carrying
the steel that had built the Lewis family fortune. "I can make sure that whoever finds James Whitfield first understands that there
will be no negotiation, no plea bargaining, no mercy. My daughter's life is worth more than his."
After Richard hung up, Alexander stood in the chaos of the crime scene, feeling completely helpless Somewhere in the city,
Camille and Victoria were prisoners of a man who blamed them for his father's death. A man who had already shown he was
willing to kill to satisfy his need for revenge.
Stefan and Hannah arrived at the scene within minutes of receiving the emergency alert. Both of them looked shaken by the
evidence of violence scattered across Fifth Avenue.

"Any word from the kidnappers?" Stefan asked.
"Nothing yet," Alexander replied. "But James will make contact eventually. He'll want to gloat, to explain his grand plan before he
carries it out." Hannah was studying the wreckage of Victoria's sedan, her engineer's mind analyzing the evidence of the attack.
"This was coordinated with military precision. The timing, the equipment, the escape route - James had professional help."
"Or professional training," Agent Chen added grimly. "We're running background checks on James Smith's known associates,
looking for connections to military or intelligence contractors."
As the investigation continued around them, Alexander felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of what they were facing. James
Whitfield had spent fifteen years preparing for this moment. He had resources, training, and the desperate motivation of
someone who had nothing left to lose.
But as Alexander looked at the faces of the people around him - Stefan's determination, Hannah's analytical focus, Agent Chen's
professional competence - he realized that James had made one crucial mistake.
He had underestimated the bonds between the people he was trying to destroy. Victoria and Camille weren't just business
associates or casual friends. They were family, chosen family that had been forged through shared trials and mutual
support.
And family doesn't abandon each other, even when facing an enemy who has spent fifteen years planning their destruction.
Alexander pulled out his phone and began making calls. To Senator Alvarez, who could mobilize federal resources. To private
investigators who specialized in kidnapping cases. To security consultants who understood how to track someone like James
Whitfield.
"What are you doing?" Stefan asked.
"I'm calling in every favor, every connection, every resource I can think of," Alexander replied. "James Whitfield thinks he can
destroy our family by taking Victoria and Camille. He's about to learn that attacking our family means going to war with everyone
who loves them."
As sirens wailed in the distance and FBI agents continued their investigation, Alexander felt something cold and determined
settle in his chest. This wasn't about business anymore, or corporate revenge, or settling old scores. This was about saving the
two women who meant everything to him. And Alexander Pierce would go through hell itself to bring them home safely. The
question was whether they would be alive when he found them.

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