Chapter Thirteen: The Fall of the Rossi Name
Police had preserved Isabella’s shoes as evidence.
Inside the hollow platform of the undamaged stiletto, investigators found a miniature storage device.
It contained financial records linking Vittorio Rossi to bribery, tax evasion, fraudulent shipping contracts, and illegal political payments across three countries.
Isabella had collected the records over several years.
She had not done it for justice.
She had done it for leverage.
Federal prosecutors opened a separate investigation.
Rossi assets were frozen.
Vittorio was detained while attempting to leave the country aboard a private aircraft.
His empire began collapsing before Isabella’s trial reached closing arguments.
The revelation destroyed her final illusion.
She had believed her father would protect her.
Instead, his attorneys released a statement blaming her for manipulating family records and acting without his knowledge.
Isabella read the statement at the defense table.
Her hands began to shake.
When the jury returned, the courtroom was full.
“On the charge of aggravated assault against a pregnant victim, how do you find?”
“Guilty.”
Isabella closed her eyes.
“On the charge of conspiracy to commit unlawful surveillance?”
“Guilty.”
“On the charge of evidence tampering?”
“Guilty.”
The verdicts continued.
Khloe remained still.
Marcus reached for her hand but stopped before touching it.
Khloe noticed.
She turned her palm upward.
He placed his hand in hers.
Isabella received a substantial prison sentence, followed by supervised release and a permanent protective order prohibiting contact with Khloe, Marcus, or Grace.
Before officers escorted her away, Isabella looked toward Marcus.
“You made me believe there was a future.”
Marcus answered quietly.
“I made you believe I would not set boundaries. That was wrong.”
Her eyes moved to Khloe.
“And she still forgave you.”
Khloe stood.
“You still think this was about winning him.”
Isabella’s expression tightened.
Khloe continued.
“It was about surviving you. Whatever happens in my marriage belongs to me. You never had the right to decide it.”
The officers led Isabella from the courtroom.
Outside, reporters shouted questions.
Khloe and Marcus walked past them without answering.
At the courthouse steps, Marcus paused.
“It’s over,” he said.
Khloe looked back at the building.
“No.”
She adjusted Grace’s blanket inside the carrier.
“The trial is over. Healing is different.”
May you like
Marcus nodded.
This time, he did not ask how long it would take.
