𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 50: 𝐈'𝐦 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐀𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐭𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲.

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

The man sighed, glancing between him and his untouched plate.

“You can go after breakfast.”

Junior nodded— but he didn't wait.

Barely two minutes later, he was already running down the corridor, frantically reading door signs in search of his mother’s office.

Breanna was with Sophia when the door jagged open.

“I want to give my testimony” Junior's small voice broke out.

Breanna shot to her feet, pushing away the file in front of her table.

Sophia’s heels whispered as she crossed to him.

She crouched low, pulling him into an embrace.

“You don’t need to feel pressured, sweetheart. The testimony can wait until—”

“Come over here, my boy" Breanna interjected, taking out a small device from her drawer.

“Sophia get a file and pen.”

She flicked the recorder on and a red light blinked to life.

The room fell silent, save for the sound of Junior’s uneven breathing.

☆☆𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧☆☆

Antonio stood before the bathroom mirror, buttoning his shirt.

Lucas' warning from yesterday still echoing in his head — insistent, impossible to silence.

>“Humanity has no place in our world, so always remember, he who feels, Falls”<

They had gone straight to meet him after his release. Someone’d snitch on his involvement with Nevena and Junior.

Now standing in front of the mirror all dressed up, he reminded himself who he was.

“Don’t lose your guard,” he muttered to his reflection. “You’re Blade Knuckles—the Medina family’s underboss.”

After the self boosting, he stepped out into the main court — soldiers saluting every corner he passed.

Outside, some were training, he looked around but Grinch was nowhere. He pulled out his phone and called.

Turned out that the constraint of yesterday reopened his wound, so he was back at the hospital.

“F*ck! Today's gonna be a hell of a day" he muttered before getting into his car.

Right to his word. His table was all piled up at his arrival.

End of the month meant endless financial reviews.

Bracing his resolve with an exhalation, he settled in and work kicked off.

By evening, most files were still untouched. He took a break and poured himself a glass of scotch, eyes drifting to the city swallowed in darkness.

Unhesitatingly, he grabbed his key and had his staff load the rest into the car.

He went straight to the Casino unwinding before going home.

Finally he was back to his routine. Work — Casino —home.

The second day went by just like the first, he tried to silence everything that stirred his humanity but on the third day he failed to keep up the act.

Staring numbly at the pile of files, instead of picking up the pen, he grabbed his phone.

“She has already been charged,” his informant answered.

“On what basis?” he growled.

“Abduction of a minor—the kid said it himself.”

“That's absurd," Antonio hummed. “But they could easily pass for mother and son”

“Yes. But as it may be, Ma'am Breanna's handling the case herself”

Antonio exhaled, rubbing his brow. “When’s the hearing — and does she have a lawyer?”

“It’s tomorrow. I don’t think she’s been allowed to contact one. Ma’am denied her phone access.”

“Oh, keep me posted.”

He dropped the phone and picked the pen, stabbing it against the desk. “Little witch,” he seethed.

Deep down he knew Breanna was dragging this out on purpose — to rattle and unsettle him.

Looking at the spilling ink on the table he hissed.

After a moment, he thumbed another contact on his dialer, drifting to the window to answer.

“Yes Mr Hunt" a voice crackled through.

“Arrange bail for the Bulgarian woman,” he ordered coldly.

“Let's see— give me a few minutes to check.”

“Okay” Antonio hung up, sliding a hand into his pocket.

He didn’t want to get involved after Lucas’ warning— but letting Breanna destroy the tourist didn’t sit right.

His phone buzzed in his hand and he picked it.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” came the voice, “but she can’t be bailed.”

Antonio’s grip on the phone tightened. “What do you mean she can’t?”

“The police have video evidence supporting the charge. First-degree felony is a serious crime — a court trial has already been scheduled for tomorrow.”

Hmph!

Antonio sighed, walking back to his seat. “What happens if she gets convicted?”

“Well, if convicted, she's liable to face a basic sentence of eighteen years in prison—plus fines.”

Antonio went mute for a while. “You still there?” the man asked.

“As a legal practitioner” he clears his throat. “What do you propose to be done in order to acquit her?”

“Fighting the case” the man reverberated.

“Would that guarantee her unanimous release?” Antonio leaned forward, voice sharpening with interest.

“No. But since she’s a foreigner, her lawyer could plead for a reduced sentence—perhaps deportation instead of prison.”

“Phew!” Antonio exhaled, relief flickering through his chest. "At least that's a better deal than jail”

“Told you” the voice concurred.

“Take up the defence tomorrow —” Antonio ordered. “Don't hesitate to reach out to me if you need anything”

Before the voice could say more, he hung the call.

☆☆𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐇𝐐☆☆

The next day, Nevena was handed a brown jumpsuit and instructed to shower.

After changing into the uniform, she turned back to her space — Sophia was already waiting outside the bar protector with one other female officer.

“We’re leaving immediately,” Sophia whispered, raising the cuffs.

Nevena nodded meekly and slid her hands through the bars.

She cuffed her wrist before unlocking the cell.

They escorted her out to the van, and that was when Nevena mustered up courage to speak. “Where are we going?"

"The Court” Sophia answered by opening the van's door for her. "Your trial’s today”

"Trial?” Nevena's gaze snapped. "I don't even have a lawyer”

“The court will assign you one,” Breanna cut in from outside the van. “Free of charge—no strings attached.”

###𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

Footsteps echoed as they led Nevena down the corridor into the courtroom.

She tried not to look up, the shame journalists made of her outside, still fresh.

Inside, Sophia personally guided her

down the narrow aisle to the defendant’s bench.

“Sit here,” she murmured, pointing at a seat

Her appointed lawyer, a middle-aged man with a thinning hairline and a loose tie, shuffled through his papers nervously beside her.

“I’m your Court appointed attorney,” he introduced, barely glancing up. “Name’s Santiago. Just answer what they ask.”

Nevena nodded absently, her pulse throbbing against the cuffs.

Murmurs rippled across the room as officials, clerks, and a few journalists filled the space — all waiting.

“All rise,” the clerk called.

Everyone stood as the judge entered — a woman in her late fifties.

“You may be seated,” she said, voice steady.

She adjusted her glasses, flipping open the case file before her.

“Case number 347-B: The Police versus Nevena Bachvarov—child abduction.”

Nevena’s throat constricted. Child abduction — for a child that ran back to her.

“Shall we proceed," the judge waved.