Chapter 17 - The Trial Before the TrialThe world turned on Isabella first.
That was predictable.
Beautiful women were easy to worship until they became inconvenient. Then the same people who praised their dresses zoomed in on their mugshots.
But Vittorio Rossi was harder.
Men like Vittorio did not fall because people disliked them. They fell only when records, witnesses, money trails, and fear all moved at once.
Dana Whitlock moved them.
Within forty-eight hours, three former Rossi employees requested protection.
A judge resigned.
Two hospital board members hired criminal attorneys.
A city councilman suddenly discovered a need to spend time with family.
News vans camped outside St. Aurelia.
Khloe’s hospital curtains stayed closed.
She refused interviews.
She refused sympathy tours.
She refused to let her son become a symbol before he had even learned to breathe alone.
But silence did not mean weakness.
Every afternoon, when her doctors allowed it, Khloe met Dana in a private room and gave testimony.
Dates.
Names.
Transfers.
Threats.
Daniel.
Isabella.
Celeste.
Marcus attended only when Khloe invited him.
The first time, she did not.
The second time, she did.
He sat quietly and listened.
That mattered more than he knew.
On the fifth day after Julian’s birth, Vittorio Rossi was arrested at his Manhattan residence.
He came out in a tailored navy suit, not handcuffs.
At first.
Cameras shouted questions.
“Did you order the attack on Khloe Thorne?”
“Did you steal from children’s charities?”
“Did you have Daniel Reed killed?”
Vittorio smiled.
“This is political theater.”
Then Dana’s agents placed him in cuffs.
The smile remained, but his eyes changed.
Inside St. Aurelia, Elaine showed Khloe the footage.
Khloe watched without satisfaction.
Vittorio looked smaller in custody.
Not small.
Never that.
But human enough to bleed.
Marcus stood behind her chair.
“Do you want it off?”
“No.”
The clip ended.
Khloe looked down at her hands.
“I thought I’d feel better.”
Marcus said, “Maybe justice doesn’t feel good at first.”
She looked up at him.
“That sounds like something my therapist would say.”
“You told me to get one.”
“I told you three years ago.”
“I start Monday.”
Khloe blinked.
Then, unexpectedly, she laughed.
It hurt her stitches, but she laughed anyway.
Marcus stared at her like the sound had saved some part of him.
The laugh faded.
“Don’t look so hopeful,” she said softly.
He nodded. “I’ll try.”
But hope had already entered the room.
Small.
Fragile.
Like Julian.
That same night, Celeste requested to see Khloe.
Marcus said no immediately.
Khloe surprised him.
“I’ll see her.”
Elias objected.
Dana objected.
Marcus objected twice.
Khloe listened to all of them.
Then said, “I didn’t say alone.”
Celeste was brought to a secure hospital conference room the next morning. She wore no pearls. Her forehead was bandaged. Without perfect lighting and posture, she looked older than Khloe had ever seen her.
Still proud.
But tired.
Khloe sat across from her in a wheelchair. Marcus stood behind Khloe, slightly to the side. Elias stood near the wall. Dana observed from the corner.
Celeste looked at Khloe first.
Not Marcus.
“I owe you an apology.”
Khloe’s expression did not change.
“You owe me more than one.”
Celeste nodded.
That, more than the words, surprised everyone.
“I helped Isabella access your room. I believed she would frighten you, not harm you.”
Khloe’s voice was cold. “That is not better.”
“No.”
“You threatened me for years.”
“Yes.”
“You used Daniel’s memory against me.”
Celeste lowered her eyes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Celeste was silent for a long time.
Then she said, “Because Marcus loved you in a way I could not control.”
Marcus looked away.
Khloe absorbed the answer.
It was honest.
Ugly.
Not enough.
“Do you love your grandson?” Khloe asked.
Celeste’s composure cracked.
“Yes.”
Khloe leaned forward.
“Then loving him starts with staying away from him until I decide otherwise.”
Celeste flinched.
Marcus closed his eyes.
Khloe continued, “Not Marcus. Me.”
Celeste looked at her son.
Marcus said nothing.
For once, he did not rescue his mother from consequences.
Celeste turned back to Khloe.
“Understood.”
Khloe nodded.
The meeting ended.
As Celeste was escorted out, she stopped beside Marcus.
“I did love you,” she whispered.
Marcus’s voice was quiet.
“I know.”
Her eyes filled.
“That’s what makes this worse.”
She left without another word.
But while the Thorne family faced its reckoning, Isabella Rossi sat with a public defender after firing her third attorney.
She had given up her father.
Now she wanted something in return.
“I’ll testify,” she said.
The lawyer looked cautious. “Against Vittorio?”
May you like
Isabella smiled faintly.
“Against everyone.”
