로그인The mistrial motion was denied.Judge Chen ruled from the bench after a brief hearing, her voice sharp with irritation. "The defense has provided no credible evidence of jury misconduct. This appears to be a fishing expedition designed to delay sentencing. Motion denied. We will proceed with sentencing as scheduled."Two weeks until Victor Blackwell learned how long he'd spend in prison.Two weeks until Isabella could finally, truly, move forward.She threw herself into work, using the Moretti Fund as an anchor against the anxiety of waiting. Twenty-eight families helped now. Each one a small victory. Each one a life changed.But on Tuesday morning, one week before sentencing, everything changed.Isabella arrived at her office to find Agent Torres waiting in the hallway, his expression grim."We need to talk. Privately."In her office, door closed, Torres pulled out a file. "Victor Blackwell requested a meeting with you. Through his lawyers. He says he has information about the 'power
The trial's first day was procedural—jury selection, opening statements, establishing the framework of the prosecution's case.Isabella sat in the gallery with Damien and Christopher, watching as Sarah Chen methodically laid out the charges. Securities fraud. Racketeering. Stalking. Harassment. Conspiracy. Each count backed by evidence, each one carrying years of prison time.Victor's defense attorney—a woman named Patricia Monroe who'd taken over after Hastings's arrest—presented a very different narrative."Victor Blackwell is a successful businessman who made aggressive but legal business decisions. The prosecution will try to paint him as a monster. But what they're actually describing is capitalism. Competitive acquisition. Strategic business practices. Yes, some companies failed after dealing with Blackwell Industries. That's unfortunate. But it's not criminal."She paced in front of the jury, her voice confident. "The prosecution's case relies heavily on the testimony of Vincen
Victor Blackwell's trial was three weeks away.Isabella sat in the prosecutor's office, going over her testimony for what felt like the hundredth time. Sarah Chen—the prosecutor, not to be confused with Sarah Martinez from HR—was meticulous, demanding, and determined to put Victor away for the rest of his life."Let's go through it again," Sarah said, pushing a photo across the table. "This is your father, Lorenzo Moretti?""Yes.""And when did you first learn that Victor Blackwell might be your biological father?"Isabella had been through this timeline so many times she could recite it in her sleep. "About six weeks ago. Victor told me during a prison visit. DNA testing confirmed it shortly after.""How did that revelation affect your feelings about testifying against him?""It didn't. Lorenzo Moretti was my father in every way that mattered. He raised me. He loved me. He taught me right from wrong. Biology doesn't change that Victor destroyed him." Isabella's voice was steady. She'
The first two weeks of Isabella's new position passed in a blur of activity.She met with twelve families. Heard twelve stories that mirrored her own—businesses destroyed, lives ruined, futures stolen. Each meeting left her emotionally drained but more determined. She was making a difference. Small, incremental, but real.The Williams family received $1.5 million—enough to pay off crushing debts, restart their retail business on a smaller scale, and fund therapy for their three children who'd witnessed their mother's breakdown. Mrs. Williams cried when Isabella presented the check."This doesn't bring back what we lost," she'd said through tears. "But it gives us a future. Thank you."The Peterson family—David Peterson's widow and two sons—received $2 million plus business mentorship from one of Blackwell Industries' partners. The older son wanted to study engineering. The younger needed special education support. Both were now possible."My husband would have wanted this," Mrs. Peter
Monday morning arrived with the inevitability of change.Isabella stood in front of her closet at 6 AM, staring at professional clothes she'd bought over the weekend specifically for her first day as Director of the Moretti Fund and Chief Ethics Officer. The tailored suits, the elegant blouses, the understated jewelry—all the armor of corporate America.She'd spent three years wearing disguises. First as the broken girl mourning her father. Then as Aria Laurent, sophisticated art consultant. Now as Isabella Moretti Blackwell, corporate executive.Which one was real? Or were they all real? Different versions of the same person, shaped by circumstance and choice?"You're overthinking again," Damien said from the doorway. He was already dressed, despite not having anywhere he needed to be. "I can hear your existential crisis from the bedroom.""I'm trying to figure out who I'm supposed to be today.""You're supposed to be you. Isabella. The woman who survived Victor and Vincent and feder
Thursday morning arrived with the weight of inevitability.Isabella woke at 5 AM, unable to sleep, her mind racing through everything that would happen today. The board meeting at 10 AM. Damien's decision about temporarily stepping down. Her own announcement about taking the position at Blackwell Industries. Victor's preliminary hearing at 2 PM where the judge would decide if there was enough evidence to proceed to trial given Vincent's recantation.One day. Multiple life-changing events.She found Damien already awake in the kitchen, making coffee with the intense focus of someone trying not to think about what lay ahead."Couldn't sleep either?" she asked."Slept maybe two hours. Spent the rest of the night going over the restructuring proposals, making sure everything's documented and protected before I potentially step down." He handed her a mug. "How are you feeling about today?""Terrified. Determined. Possibly going to throw up." Isabella sipped the coffee. "You?""Same. Plus a







