All Chapters of His Trophy His War: Chapter 41 - Chapter 50

Before the TribunalThe courthouse loomed in the distance like a slab of judgment carved from stone. Even from the safehouse window, Clara could see its silhouette rising over Milan’s skyline, a place where whispers turned into verdicts and reputations burned without fire.She sat at the kitchen table, the summons spread out in front of her, the words blurring no matter how many times she read them. Her notebook lay open beside it, but her pen hadn’t moved for hours. Every time she tried, the only thing she wrote was her own name—and even that felt shaky.Livia slipped into the chair across from her, a glass of water in hand. “You haven’t eaten.”Clara shook her head. “If I put anything in my stomach, I’ll lose it.”“You’ll need your strength.” Livia’s voice was quiet, steady. She didn’t push, didn’t coax. She simply let the words sit, like stones on a path Clara could step on or ignore.Clara finally looked up, her eyes red-rimmed but defiant. “What if I choke in there? What if I can

Day TwoThe courthouse was louder today. The crowd on the steps had doubled, reporters shouting, cameras flashing like lightning. Placards waved in the drizzle—some painted Clara as a hero, others branded her a fraud. The city itself was split, and the tribunal hadn’t even begun.Clara gripped the railing as they climbed the stairs. Her throat was dry, her stomach knotted, but she forced herself upward. Beside her, Alessandro cut through the crush like a shield. Livia walked on the other side, poised, face unreadable, though Clara felt the tremor in her step.Inside the chamber, Russo was waiting. He stood as they entered, greeting the judges with a nod as though he already owned the room. Sofia lounged at his side, lips painted crimson, eyes glittering with malice.The clerk called the case. Papers shuffled. The lead judge’s voice rang out: “Proceed.”Russo’s lawyer rose, his smile oily. “Your Honours, yesterday, the defence argued that our evidence was fabricated. Today, we bring tr

The Counter-WitnessThe fourth day broke with thunder. The rain washed the courthouse steps, but the square still seethed. Protestors clashed with supporters, with banners sagged under the downpour. The storm outside mirrored the one inside.Livia adjusted her scarf, eyes hooded against the flashes of cameras. Alessandro’s hand lingered at the small of her back as they pushed through the barricade. “Stay close,” he muttered.She gave him a faint smile. “Where else would I go?”Clara was already ahead, notebook sealed in plastic, hair plastered to her face. She glanced over her shoulder. “Today we shift it,” she whispered. “Or we’re finished.”Inside, the chamber buzzed. Russo sat gleaming in a tailored suit, as though the storm had bowed to him. Sofia was at his side, lips curved in satisfaction. Their lawyer stacked fresh folders, weapons waiting to be drawn.The judges entered. The gavel fell.“Proceed.”Russo’s lawyer rose. “Yesterday, witnesses exposed the defendant’s complicity.

After the FireSmoke still hung over the river like a curse.Livia stood at the edge of the ruins, coat flapping against her legs. The docks were nothing but ribs of metal, the water lit orange from the glow that refused to die. Police tape fluttered, sirens moaned somewhere behind her. She didn’t move until Alessandro’s shadow reached her shoulder.“Ambulance is waiting,” he said.She shook her head. “I’m fine.”He looked at the soot streaked across her cheek, at the torn sleeve, and didn’t argue. The heat from the smouldering containers pushed against them. Somewhere a hull groaned and slipped under.Sergio’s voice broke through their earpieces. “They torched everything east side. Chemical spill too—fire crew says it’ll burn till morning.”Alessandro exhaled, slow and tight. “And Russo?”“No sign,” Sergio replied. “But Santini’s body is gone. Somebody pulled him out before we got there.”Livia’s gaze stayed on the flames. “Then he’s still feeding Russo’s fire.”At the safehouse, the

Political LeverageSplinters rained down. Alessandro fired twice—centre mass, no hesitation. The first man dropped. The second dove left, returning fire. A lamp exploded beside Livia's head."Balcony!" Alessandro shoved her toward the glass doors. "Now!"She ran. Bare feet on cold tile. Wind hit her face as she cleared the threshold. Three stories down, Milan's streets glittered like broken glass.Behind her, another gunshot. Alessandro's curse."You hit?" she called."Move!"She swung her leg over the railing. No time for fear. Her fingers found the decorative stonework—thank God for old architecture—and she lowered herself down. Toes searching for purchase. Arms screaming.Alessandro landed beside her, gun tucked in his waistband. Blood seeped through his shirt sleeve."You're hit.""It's nothing." He nodded down. "Keep going."Second floor. First. Her hands slipped on the last ledge. She dropped the final six feet, landing hard. Pain shot through her ankle. She bit back a yelp.Ale