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Chapter 96: Six Months Later

Author: Josh OA
last update publish date: 2026-08-30 14:53:35

POV: Lena Moretti

The sentencing was on a Tuesday in March. I didn't attend. I'd said everything I needed to say to Victor in the prison meeting room months ago and watching a judge deliver a number wasn't going to add anything to what I'd already closed. Wells called me afterward. Brief. Professional. The tone of a prosecutor completing the final administrative step of a case that had consumed a year of her career.

"Thirty-five years," she said. "No possibility of parole."

I was sitting on
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  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 96: Six Months Later

    POV: Lena Moretti The sentencing was on a Tuesday in March. I didn't attend. I'd said everything I needed to say to Victor in the prison meeting room months ago and watching a judge deliver a number wasn't going to add anything to what I'd already closed. Wells called me afterward. Brief. Professional. The tone of a prosecutor completing the final administrative step of a case that had consumed a year of her career. "Thirty-five years," she said. "No possibility of parole." I was sitting on the brownstone's front porch watching Sera crawl across a blanket spread on the grass. She'd mastered crawling two weeks ago and had been using the skill primarily to pursue the neighbor's cat, who tolerated her with the patient resignation of an animal that understood the tiny human wasn't going anywhere. "Thirty-five years," I repeated. Running the math. Victor was sixty-two. Thirty-five years meant ninety-seven. He would die in federal custody. The man who'd spent three decades building sys

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 95: The Vows

    POV: Lena Moretti I wrote the vows on a Saturday morning while Sera napped and the house was quiet. Not on a laptop. By hand. On a piece of paper from the same pad I'd used to draw the web diagram with my mother's name at the center months ago. Different words this time. Different map. Instead of lines connecting crimes and victims and conspiracies, I was drawing lines between two people and trying to find the language for what those lines meant. The first marriage had been a contract signed in darkness. Shaking hands. Blood on my scalp. A man I'd known for less than an hour offering me a door that wasn't locked and me walking through it because the alternative was Julian. There were no vows. No ceremony. No promises beyond the transactional terms of a deal designed to serve his revenge and my survival. We'd stood in a study in the east wing and I'd signed my name next to his and that was it. A legal formality. A strategic arrangement. The beginning of everything that came after, bo

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 94: The New Empire

    POV: Lena Moretti Ezra signed the papers on a Monday morning. No ceremony. No press conference. No dramatic moment where he stood in a boardroom and renounced his father's legacy with a speech and a flourish. Just a kitchen table, a stack of legal documents Dominic had prepared, and a pen that he used to transfer Crane Industries into a restructuring trust managed by an independent board with no Crane family involvement. I was feeding Sera at the time. Mashed banana. Most of it ending up on her chin and my shirt rather than in her mouth. Ezra sat across from us, reading each page with the focused attention he gave everything, and signed at the bottom of each one with the same signature he'd used on our marriage certificate and the trust documents and every other paper that had reshaped his life over the past year. "Done," he said. Setting the pen down. Looking at the stack with an expression that wasn't relief exactly. More like the feeling you get when you set down a bag you've be

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 93: Hana's Freedom

    POV: Lena Moretti Hana left Paul on a Tuesday. She called me from the road. Her voice was shaking so badly that I could barely understand the first three words. "I'm in the car," she said. "I'm driving. I don't know where I'm going. I just got in the car and I drove." She'd waited until Paul was at work. Packed one bag. Left the house in Connecticut that she hadn't left in three years. Got in the car whose odometer Paul checked every Tuesday afternoon when he came home. And drove. No destination. No plan. Just the act of leaving. The physical motion of a body passing through a doorway that had been a boundary for years and discovering that the other side existed and was real and contained air she could breathe. "Pull over at the next gas station," I told her. Calm. The same voice I used when directing case logistics and coordinating witness preparation. The voice that said I know what to do even when I'm figuring it out in real time. "I'll send you an address. Naomi has a contact i

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 92: Marco

    POV: Lena Moretti The house had a For Sale sign in the yard. I saw it from the car before I even parked. Faded white with a real estate company logo and a phone number that nobody was probably calling because a house connected to the Crane family blood debt scandal wasn't exactly a hot property. The lawn was overgrown. The paint was peeling worse than I remembered. One of the shutters on the second floor was hanging at an angle that suggested it had been loose for months and nobody had bothered to fix it. I sat in the car for five minutes before going in. Not because I was nervous. Because I was calibrating. Deciding what version of this conversation I wanted to have. The angry version where I confronted him with the confession and watched him crumble. The cold version where I delivered facts and walked away without emotion. The compassionate version where I acknowledged his weakness and offered something like understanding if not forgiveness. I went with none of them. I went with

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 91: Julian's Sentence

    POV: Lena Moretti Julian's sentencing was three weeks after Victor's verdict. A separate proceeding. Different courtroom. Different judge. Smaller gallery because Julian's case didn't carry the same public weight as his father's. Victor was the architect. Julian was the instrument. The media covered the sentencing but without the frenzy that had surrounded the main trial. A secondary story. A footnote to the larger narrative. I almost didn't go. I sat at the kitchen table that morning with Sera in my lap and a cup of tea going cold beside my laptop and debated whether watching Julian receive his sentence would give me anything I needed. Closure. Satisfaction. Justice. The words people use when they talk about the end of legal proceedings, as if hearing a judge announce a number of years could repair the specific damage of a man's hand on your arm and his body pressing you into a wall and the sound of fabric tearing. I went because not going felt like avoidance. And I was done avoid

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 37: The Tender Night

    POV: Lena Moretti He came to my door at eleven. No pacing first. No standing on the other side debating whether to knock. Just three quiet raps and his voice, low and uncertain in a way I'd never heard from him. "Can I stay?" Two words. A question, not a statement. Not "I'm coming in" or "we nee

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 13: The Crack

    POV: Lena Moretti The nightmare always starts the same way. The rehearsal dinner. The long table with white flowers. Julian's hand on my thigh. Then the study. The lock clicking shut. His face changing. The mask peeling away. But in the dream, I don't get out. In the dream, the door doesn't open.

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 12: The Rival

    POV: Lena Moretti Three days after I touched his scar, we went to a fundraiser at the Langham Hotel. Neither of us had mentioned that night in the office. Not the argument. Not the scar. Not the moment my fingers traced the line his father had carved into him. We just kept moving, kept working, ke

  • The Billionaire’s Stolen Bride   Chapter 1: The Night Before

    POV: Lena MorettiI smiled fourteen times at dinner. I counted. Fourteen perfect smiles aimed at people who were celebrating the fact that my father sold me to pay a debt he was too weak to fight.The rehearsal dinner was at the Crane estate, a long table set with white flowers and gold flatware an

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