Semua Bab They Buried Me a Bride. I Returned a CEO: Bab 91 - Bab 97

Camila's povWedding planning, I discovered, was its own strange kind of therapy, small, ordinary decisions about flowers and seating arrangements providing welcome relief from the sustained intensity of the past year's legal battles. George and I had settled on a small, intimate ceremony, close friends and family only, held at the coastal house that had witnessed both the worst fear and the brightest joy of our relationship's most difficult chapter.Cora had, predictably, developed extremely specific opinions about her role in the proceedings, insisting on a dress she'd sketched herself in painstaking, seven-year-old detail, complete with what she described as "sparkles, but not too many, because too many sparkles is tacky." I'd taken her sketch to a dressmaker Ruth recommended, and the resulting garment, when it finally arrived, managed to honor Cora's exact specifications while remaining genuinely, impressively elegant."It's perfect," Cora declared, twirling in front of the mirror

Darian's povThe second week of trial brought the forensic and financial evidence, a methodical, exhaustive presentation that left even less room for the defense's sympathetic framing than the personal testimony had. The toxicologist walked the jury through years of documented prescription tampering, the pattern too sustained and too precise to be explained away as coincidence or misunderstanding. The forensic accountant traced the exact financial pathway connecting Alessia's personal accounts to the security firm that had ultimately hired the two women who'd attempted Cora's kidnapping.I watched my mother throughout this testimony, her composure gradually eroding under the sheer accumulated weight of evidence that left increasingly little room for any alternative interpretation of her conduct. By the middle of the second week, her lead attorney had shifted strategy entirely, no longer attempting to argue her innocence outright, instead focusing on mitigating factors that might reduc

George's POVSentencing arrived three weeks later, the courthouse gallery once again filled to capacity, though the atmosphere this time carried less anxious anticipation and more the particular solemnity of a proceeding whose outcome felt, at this point, largely settled in its broad strokes. Only the specific duration remained genuinely uncertain, and even that uncertainty felt manageable now, compared to the sustained fear that had defined so much of this past year.The judge reviewed the sentencing guidelines carefully, acknowledging the severity of the multiple convictions while also noting Alessia's age and lack of prior criminal history as factors requiring consideration. When she finally delivered the sentence, twenty-two years across the combined counts, with eligibility for parole considered only after serving a minimum of fifteen, the number landed with a finality that felt, after everything, genuinely appropriate to the scope of harm she'd caused.Alessia showed little visi

Camila's POVThe morning of the wedding arrived clear and bright, the coastal house's familiar rooms filled with the particular organized chaos of final preparations, florists and caterers moving through the space with practiced efficiency while Ruth managed the whole operation with the same calm competence she brought to everything. I sat in the bedroom that had witnessed both the worst fear and the deepest joy of this past year, watching my reflection in the mirror as the hairstylist worked careful, elegant curls into place."Nervous," Ruth asked, catching my eye in the mirror's reflection."Not nervous," I said, considering the question honestly. "Just full. Like there's too much feeling to properly contain in one morning.""That sounds about right," Ruth said, something warm and knowing in her expression. "For everything you've survived to get here."She finished the last curl and stepped back to admire her work, and I studied my own reflection for a long moment, hardly recognizin