Tainted Justice Novels & Stories

The sheer disgust dripping off of Madison's tone is enough to shatter my new found confidence into shards. A cold sheen layers her dark blue eyes, making them appear even more cunning and disapproving than ever before. The kindness that I once sawn in them is now nothing but a vivid memory of the faraway past. "I'm s-so–" But before I can finish my sentence James Witherdale, mind you the most handsome guy in school, cuts me off mid speech.

The familiar stench of the compound brought back years of painful memories, but this time, they were overshadowed by a burning sense of purpose. The team infiltrated a service entrance Anya had identified during her time as a slave. Kai, a master of disguise, slipped past the guards with forged credentials. Jax, his fingers flying across a custom-built interface, hacked into the security grid, creating a temporary window of opportunity. Anya, disguised and heart pounding, followed Kai, her stolen blade a cold reassurance against her thigh.

All of it had led, somehow, to this quiet, wood paneled room, waiting for twelve strangers to decide what justice actually looked like. "This case was never about aggressive business tactics, or old romantic grievances handled poorly," she said, addressing the jury directly, her voice carrying easily through the quiet courtroom. "It was about two people who spent years deliberately, patiently working to destroy a family, using every private tragedy that family faced as a tool rather than a circumstance deserving of basic human decency. You've heard it in their own words. Isabela Marchetti's journal. Vance Whitmore's own testimony, admitting under oath to knowledge he had no legitimate reason

As I watched Ricky sleep peacefully in Matthew's arms, warmth spread through my chest. Thankfully, my boy was safe this time. … News of the Lambert family's downfall came fast. Terence was charged with attempted murder for secretly swapping medications at the hospital. Even though the victim was his own son, the law didn't spare him. Kamila, as an accomplice, was looking at four to five years behind bars. As for Wendy, even without solid evidence of everything she'd done, her reputation was ruined beyond repair. I'd also reported her for forging her medical license and practicing without proper credentials.

I would weave his memories into the fabric of our child's life, ensuring that Vincenzo would always be present in some way. But alongside the grief and the determination to honor his memory, there was a growing fire within me. A thirst for justice. Vincenzo's death had to be avenged. I was done with being a vulnerable pawn that others could exploit. I wanted answers, and I wanted those responsible to pay. And that began with finding Matteo. I needed to know where Vincenzo's body was laid to rest, to bid my final farewell. I searched for him, questioning everyone I could, until I finally found him down in Vincenzo's office.

I immediately controlled myself and scolded me," You can't fall into his trap again. Never." I sighed and agreed with my subconscious. She is right. I shouldn't fall into his trap again. He has played with my emotions enough. Not anymore. It's been one week since we are living like a perfect family. Well, I am gaining his trust to execute something bigger. I am doing everything to make him depend on me only. I am just waiting for the right time. Nobody will go away after committing sins. Sometimes we need to take the responsibility of giving justice. " What are you thinking, love? He asked me touching my lips gently.

Lucas shifts the conversation from work to beliefs, the change almost imperceptible, like the glide of silk over skin. "The system fails the vulnerable," he says, and I can't decide if he knows my secrets or just my fears. His voice drops lower, inviting me to share more than I'm ready for. My instinct is to pull back, but the invitation is too tempting. I edge closer instead, careful not to give too much. "Justice is a luxury," I tell him, offering my own view, wondering if it reveals more than I intend. My wolf stirs uneasily, caught between wanting him closer and pushing him away.

But what I cherished most was still the small urn. I placed it on the mantelpiece in my bedroom, and every morning and evening, I would talk to my child. "Mommy's back, my love," I whispered, gently stroking the urn. "Mommy's going to get justice for you." Soon, the New York underworld came to know of a mysterious "consultant." No one knew my true identity, but everyone feared the Moretti family behind me. I was involved in every major deal, mediated every family dispute.

my father whispered, relief shining in his tired eyes. Arrow leaned down, placing a hand lightly over my father’s. “You’ve raised a remarkable daughter. Loyal. Steadfast. It’s a rare thing these days.” My chest constricted. My father smiled faintly, unaware of the poison laced in those words. “Yes,” he murmured. “Palmer has always been loyal.” Arrow’s gaze shot to mine then, unblinking, daring me to break. 🧊 I held his stare, even as my insides shook, even as I wanted to scream the truth—that my loyalty was born not of love but of chains.

"Which is essentially gone." `Yes," she said. I sat at the desk. "Rosa," I said. “Yes." "Is it enough?" I said. She was quiet for a moment. “It is what the system can produce," she said. "Perfect justice was never available. What we have is a documented record, a formal finding, and a five-year disqualification." She paused. "Your mother did not get justice. But her name is above doors in twelve countries. Sometimes the record is justice."