Chapter 12 - The VerdictThe Manhattan criminal courthouse was a zoo. Flashbulbs blinded the attendees as reporters, bloggers, and high-society vultures swarmed the marble steps.
Inside Courtroom 302, the air was thick with tension.
Isabella Rossi sat at the defense table, wearing a drab gray prison uniform. Her blonde hair was lifeless, her roots showing. She looked hollow, manic, and completely stripped of the glamour she had once wielded like a weapon.
Behind her, the gallery was packed. In the front row sat Khloe, flanked by Uncle Richard. She wore a stunning, tailored white suit, radiating power and quiet dignity. Beside her sat Marcus. He didn't look at Isabella. His dark, lethal gaze was fixed straight ahead, acting as a silent, terrifying wall of protection around his wife.
"Isabella Rossi," Judge Harper boomed, looking down from the bench with absolute disgust. "You have pled guilty to aggravated assault, reckless endangerment, and attempted arson. Your defense counsel has cited 'emotional distress' and 'temporary insanity.' I reject those claims entirely."
Isabella let out a quiet sob, gripping the edge of the table.
"What I saw on that security footage was not insanity. It was calculated, entitled malice," the judge continued. "You targeted a pregnant woman. You attempted to start a fire in a hospital full of vulnerable patients. You believe your wealth makes you immune to the laws of basic humanity."
The judge slammed her gavel down.
"I sentence you to fifteen years in the state penitentiary, without the possibility of parole. You are remanded immediately."
"No!" Isabella shrieked, the reality finally shattering her delusion. "No, you can't do this! Do you know who I am?! Marcus! Marcus, tell them!"
She lunged toward the gallery, but two heavy-set bailiffs tackled her instantly, dragging her backward.
Marcus didn't flinch. He slowly turned his head to look at Isabella as she was dragged toward the holding cell doors. His expression was completely blank, but the message was clear: You are nothing.
Khloe stood up, buttoning her jacket. She didn't gloat. She didn't smile. She simply turned and walked out of the courtroom, leaving the ghost of Isabella Rossi screaming behind her.
As they reached the steps of the courthouse, Marcus stopped.
"The car is waiting for you," Marcus said, gesturing to the armored Maybach at the curb. "I'll take a cab."
Khloe stopped and looked at him. "Where are you going?"
"Back to the office. I have a board meeting," Marcus said quietly. "I know you don't want me in the car with you. I don't want to cause you any stress."
Khloe looked at the man who had just orchestrated the utter destruction of her enemies, standing in the cold wind, waiting for her permission to exist in her space.
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"Get in the car, Marcus," she said softly. "Leo is being discharged tomorrow. We have to finalize the nursery."
Marcus’s head snapped up, a flash of pure, desperate hope igniting in his eyes. He nodded quickly, falling into step behind her like a loyal, fiercely protective shadow.
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