01

Victoria Harper 

“Order!!” The judge banged his gavel, the murmurs from the spectators and press died 

“You’re under oath, Mr Vance. Lying now would only add perjury to your sentence.” I spoke calmly and coordinated to the criminal on the stand. 

“How many families did you bury for the Camorri Cartel, Mr. Vance?”

“You think I keep count?” He shot back with a smirk 

“So you have admitted to killing for the cartel. Since you can’t remember, I’ll count for you,” I  snapped, slamming a file onto the podium. 

“Thirteen murders,” I said. “Now tell me, Mr. Vance, do you think you deserve to walk free?”

I gave my closing remark, completely obliterating any chance the defense had to rescue this hardened criminal. 

The judge finally spoke up. “With the evidence piled up against you, Mr Vance, the court finds you guilty.” 

I gave myself an internal pat on the back. 

“The court sentences you to twelve years in prison with no option of parole.” The judge banged his gavel and the cops grabbed both his arms leading him away. 

I packed my court files and rushed to him in my four feet heels. 

“Vance.” I called out and the security officers stopped with him.  “Men like you don’t kill for free. Who pays for all that blood? Because someone out there’s pulling your strings and I want him. I can help you appeal for a shorter sentence or a parole if you give up the leader of the Camorri cartel”

Bargaining with criminals for the greater catch was now something I was used to. 

I looked to him with eagerness for his reply but instead he spat on the floor, right next to me. 

I frowned in disgust.

“Puta!(bitch). You think you can touch the Camorri’s sweetheart? You’re a fool if you think so.” The officers dragged him away. 

I had been chasing the Camorri cartel for six months now but I just keep catching loyal dogs of the mafia and not the kingpin. 

But I had a feeling I was getting closer and closer to him. He was making mistakes and one day would be for the owner of the house. 

“Ms. Harper? Over here, Ms Harper!” I stepped out head high out of the court to meet waiting journalists who had a lot of questions and microphones in my face

I faced the camera of one of the journalists and her questions came pouring. “You’ve lost colleagues to cartel violence, how far are you willing to go to bring their boss down? Another Camorri lieutenant has been convicted, but critics say the kingpin is still untouchable. When will the real mastermind face trial?”

I was always ready to answer the press but this question was challenging my success and showing the loss the state had taken due to the cartel’s actions 

I steadied the microphone, refusing to show any sign of weakness. “Justice doesn’t stop because a man hides behind fear or power. I’ll find whoever leads the Camorri, and when I do, he’ll stand where his soldiers stand today—before the law.”

I was about to answer another question when the press attention was pulled away from me to someone else and I knew exactly who it was. 

“Mr Daniel, are you proposing to stop the Camorri’s influence as one of your agenda on your manifesto?” One of the reporters asked my fiance 

“No statements, please.” He replied approaching me. 

They took pictures of us which would most likely be in tomorrow’s papers. 

He gave me a warm smile and kissed my cheek for the cameras before holding me by the waist and leading me to the car. 

His hand on my waist looked tender enough for the cameras. But I could feel the warning in the way his fingers pressed too tight—like a leash disguised as affection.

I kept a fixed smile while he waved till we got the car. 

He dropped his smile the second the car door shut. The warmth vanished from his voice, replaced by ice.

“What did I say about going after the Camorri Cartel?!” He grabbed my arm, firm enough to hurt as he barked behind the cover of the tinted windows 

I winced. “I was just doing my job.”

“Your job,” he said slowly, applying more pressure to his grip until I felt my pulse throb between his fingers,“is to support me, not to make me look like I can’t control the woman I’m about to marry.”

I tried to twist my way out but he only squeezed harder. “Daniel, you’re hurting me”

He released me with a shove, straightening his cuff links as though nothing had happened. 

“You think voters want to see the future governor’s fiancée playing hero with mobsters? You think they’ll trust a woman who gets her hands dirty with criminals?”

I stared at the hand marks on my arm, a new one in addition to my other bruises and marks. “I’m a prosecutor. My job is to put criminals behind ba—”

You’re my prosecutor,” he cut in, voice low, deadly calm. “You do the cases that look good on camera. You smile when I tell you to smile. That’s how this works.”

I pressed her palm over the sting on my arm, forcing my expression blank as reporters followed our car, completely unaware of the man behind the smile.

“You shouldn’t have mentioned the kingpin,” he continued, his tone returning to its political polish. “That kind of promise makes enemies I can’t protect you from.”

“You mean enemies that might cost you votes.”

His jaw tightened; for a moment I thought he’d hit me. Instead, he leaned closer, his whisper colder than his grip.

“You like your father breathing, don’t you? Then stay out of the Camorri’s way—and mine.”

I went silent. His words replayed in my head all the way home. I’d just put a murderer behind bars, yet somehow I was the one in chains.