Chapter 14 - The Trial
Bianca’s defense was brilliant.
Not innocent.
Brilliant.
They admitted she possessed the outfit.
Admitted she had access to Il Cielo.
Admitted she knew about my anniversary.
Then they argued someone used her materials to frame her.
Mara.
Rachel.
Possibly Alessandro.
The fingerprint on the vial?
Bianca handled hundreds of cosmetic and chemical containers at her atelier.
The compound?
Could have been transferred.
The tattoo?
Common design based on a family funeral.
The footage?
Two disguised women.
Confusion.
Reasonable doubt.
Then Paolo testified.
The defense tried to destroy him.
“You accepted money.”
“Yes.”
“You left your station.”
“Yes.”
“You fled New York.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to police initially.”
“Yes.”
“You expect leniency.”
“Yes.”
He looked terrible.
Which made him credible.
He admitted every failure.
Then:
“Who added the substance to the soufflé?”
Paolo pointed.
“Bianca Moretti.”
The defense attacked.
But he did not change.
Mara testified next.
She admitted impersonating me.
Admitted trespassing.
Admitted bribing Paolo to leave.
Admitted using Bianca’s access.
She sounded like a criminal herself.
Again, credibility through ugly truth.
Then Sofia.
Then Santoro.
Then Caterina.
When Caterina entered the courtroom in custody, Bianca’s face finally changed.
Mother and daughter looked at each other.
No affection.
Only ruin.
Caterina testified about Vittorio.
Succession.
Isabella.
The words “do what is necessary.”
Bianca’s lawyer asked:
“You helped create this conflict, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You resented your sister.”
“Yes.”
“You wanted influence.”
“Yes.”
“You blamed Alessandro.”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you are blaming your daughter now to save yourself.”
Caterina looked at Bianca.
“No.”
“Why should the jury believe you?”
“They shouldn’t.”
That surprised everyone.
“They should believe the recordings.”
Excellent answer.
Rachel testified in shackles because of her own pending charges.
I hated seeing her that way.
I hated more that part of me still remembered her carrying soup to my apartment.
Humans are inconvenient.
Rachel admitted spying.
Lying.
Helping Vittorio.
Leaving Lucia.
Then she described Bianca’s plan.
The cake.
The duplicate outfit.
The intention to frame me.
Bianca stared at her.
Once, Rachel looked back.
No hatred.
Only sadness.
Emma did not enter the courtroom.
Her recorded forensic interview was played under strict rules.
The little girl described the red-dressed woman.
The money.
The bottle.
The cake.
Then she said:
“She looked like Elena but not in the eyes.”
The prosecutor asked:
“What was different?”
Emma thought.
“Elena looks at people.”
Bianca looked through them.
The courtroom became silent.
That sentence was not proof.
But everyone remembered it.
Then came my testimony.
Bianca’s lawyer approached gently.
“Elena, you love Alessandro Moretti.”
“Yes.”
“You knew his reputation.”
“Yes.”
“You knew people wanted him dead.”
“Yes.”
“You knew his world involved violence.”
I paused.
“Yes.”
“So when he switched the desserts, wasn’t that because he routinely expected danger?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps the true cause of your poisoning was Alessandro’s life.”
The prosecutor objected.
The judge allowed limited questioning.
I looked at the attorney.
“His life created danger.”
“So yes.”
“Bianca created poison.”
Silence.
He changed direction.
“Did Alessandro tell you what to say?”
“No.”
“Did his lawyers prepare you?”
“They explained procedure.”
“Did you coordinate testimony?”
“No.”
“Do you want Bianca convicted?”
I thought.
“I want the truth believed.”
“That was not my question.”
“Yes.”
I looked at Bianca.
“If she did this, yes.”
“If?”
The attorney smiled.
“You still have doubt.”
“No.”
“I still respect the fact that a jury decides.”
His smile disappeared.
After me came Alessandro.
That was the testimony everyone wanted.
The mafia boss under oath.
His attorney had warned him that anything could be used in other proceedings.
He testified anyway.
He admitted crimes.
Not everything.
Enough.
Bianca’s lawyer almost could not believe the gift.
“You ordered violence against competitors.”
“Yes.”
“You bribed officials.”
“In the past, yes.”
“You controlled illegal businesses.”
“Yes.”
“You lied to investigators.”
“Yes.”
“So why should anyone believe you now?”
Alessandro looked at the jury.
“They shouldn’t believe me because I say it.”
He pointed toward the evidence table.
“They should believe what can be proved.”
The lawyer approached.
“You switched the desserts.”
“Yes.”
“You caused Elena to consume the poisoned one.”
“Yes.”
“By your own action.”
“Yes.”
“So if anyone in this courtroom almost killed Elena Romano, isn’t it you?”
The air vanished.
Alessandro looked at me.
Then back at the attorney.
“I put the plate in front of her.”
His voice remained steady.
“I will regret that until I die.”
The lawyer waited.
“But I did not put poison in the cake.”
No one moved.
That distinction carried the entire story.
The defense rested two days later.
Closing arguments took hours.
The jury left.
Then we waited.
One day.
Two.
Three.
On the fourth morning, the court announced a verdict.
Bianca stood.
I held Alessandro’s hand.
The foreperson read.
Attempted murder of Alessandro Moretti.
Guilty.
Attempted murder-related count involving me.
Guilty.
Conspiracy.
Guilty.
Witness intimidation.
Guilty.
Financial crimes.
Guilty.
Not every count.
Enough.
Bianca closed her eyes.
Caterina cried in the gallery.
I felt no triumph.
Only release.
Then Bianca turned toward me.
“Elena.”
The judge ordered her silent.
But she continued.
“You think you won?”
I looked at her.
“No.”
She smiled.
“Good.”
Because everyone in that family had spent too long treating survival like victory.
May you like
The next battle was not hers.
It was Alessandro’s.
