SCORNED EX WIFE Queen Of Ashes (Camille and Stefan) novel Chapter 206

Chapter 206

Alexander sat in his darkened penthouse office, the blue glow of multiple computer screens painting shadows across his face. Empty coffee cups and takeout containers littered his desk - evidence of days spent planning what he believed would be justice for his uncle's death and the seventeen lives lost in that factory explosion.

His fingers moved across the keyboard, typing another encrypted message to the Guardian. The same secure communication system they'd used for months, bouncing signals through servers in twelve different countries to hide their conversations from anyone who might try to listen in.

*Status update: Richard Lewis confronted me today. He showed false documents claiming my uncle was responsible for the factory deaths. I didn't believe his lies. Ready to proceed with Phase Two as discussed.*

Alexander hit send and leaned back in his chair, exhaustion weighing on him like a physical burden. His reflection in the black computer screen showed a man who'd aged years in the past few weeks. Stubble covered his jaw, dark circles ringed his eyes, and his expensive clothes hung loose on a frame that had lost weight from stress and sleepless nights.

The response came back within minutes:

*Excellent. Lewis family interference was expected. They will do anything to protect their reputation, even defend a killer. Your uncle would be proud of your dedication to justice. Meeting tonight as planned. Pier 47, midnight.*

Alexander stared at the message, feeling the familiar mix of grief and determination that had driven him for months. Every time doubt crept into his mind, every moment when Camille's face appeared in his thoughts and made him question his choices, the Guardian's words reminded him of what was really at stake.

Seventeen families who'd never received justice. His uncle, who'd died believing the world had abandoned him to protect Victoria Kane's crimes. The truth that needed to be exposed no matter the personal cost.

His phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: *Your wife is beautiful when she cries. You should see her at the hospital.*

Alexander's blood turned cold. Someone was watching Camille. Someone was threatening her.

He typed back frantically: *Who is this? If you hurt her—*

*Relax. Just reminding you what happens to people who get in the way of justice. Your wife chose her side. Now she lives with the consequences.*

Alexander stared at the phone, his hands shaking with rage and fear. The Guardian had promised that Camille wouldn't be harmed, that their fight was only with Victoria Kane and those actively protecting her. But this message suggested something far more sinister.

He grabbed his laptop and tried to trace the phone number, but it led nowhere - a burner phone, probably already destroyed. Whoever had sent the message knew how to stay hidden.

---

Twenty miles away, in a small office above a shipping warehouse, Stefan Rodriguez sat surrounded by computer equipment that would have impressed most government agencies. Multiple monitors displayed streaming code, network maps, and communication intercepts. Coffee had long since been replaced by energy drinks as he worked through his third consecutive night tracking digital ghosts.

Stefan's background in international shipping had required him to understand global communication networks, cyber security, and the dark corners of the internet where criminal organizations operated. Skills he'd never expected to use protecting his ex-wife from her current husband's revenge plot.

"Come on," he muttered, watching lines of encrypted data scroll across his screen. "Give me something."

For days, Stefan had been tracking the communication patterns between Alexander and his mysterious contact. The messages bounced through anonymous servers in Russia, China, Eastern Europe - a sophisticated network designed to hide the sender's true location and identity.

But every digital communication left traces. Tiny fragments of data that revealed timing patterns, server preferences, even writing styles that could identify the person behind the encryption.

Stefan had found something interesting in the message timestamps. While the communications appeared to originate from different countries, they all showed subtle timing patterns that suggested the sender was operating from the Eastern United States. Someone who sent messages during American business hours, who took breaks at times consistent with East Coast meal schedules.

More importantly, the technical sophistication of the encryption suggested someone with serious resources. Government-level security tools, military-grade anonymizing software, access to networks that weren't available to ordinary criminals.

His computer chimed with an alert. A new message had just passed through one of the servers he was monitoring.

Stefan's fingers flew across the keyboard, capturing every fragment of data as the encrypted communication bounced from server to server. This message was longer than usual, more complex, with attachment files that suggested detailed planning.

"Gotcha," Stefan whispered as his tracking software identified a partial routing path.

The message had originated from a server in Manhattan. Not the final source, but closer to home than the international servers it had been designed to imitate. Someone operating from New York, someone with enough technical knowledge to route their communications through global networks but not quite smart enough to completely hide their location.

Stefan immediately began working to narrow down the source. Manhattan had thousands of potential internet connection points, but the specific server signature suggested someone using commercial office space rather than a residential connection.

His phone rang, interrupting his concentration. Camille's name appeared on the screen.

"Stefan? Are you still working on tracking Alexander's contact?"

"Yes. And I think I'm getting close. Someone in Manhattan, probably operating from an office building." Stefan saved his progress before continuing. "How's Victoria?"