Chapter 2

Winter in Eldoria always felt brutally cold. The leaden sky hung low over skyscrapers.

Today marked the trial for my sister Diana's "accidental" death, though it was little more than a formality within the mafia's ranks.

A jury of family elders would decide if Sophia bore responsibility for Diana's death.

I wore black mourning clothes, seated at the plaintiff's bench, clutching the fabric so tightly my knuckles whitened.

Behind me, countless eyes bore into me-some pitying, some indifferent, most amused by the spectacle.

In this world, a common woman marrying into the Rossi family made me an outsider. Now, with my sister dead and my husband siding with her killer, I became their punchline.

At the defendant's bench, Sophia sat in a tailored white suit, her makeup flawless, a faint smile playing on her lips as if she attended a coffee gathering, not a murder trial.

Beside her sat the man providing her false testimony-my husband, Vincent Rossi.

Seeing Vincent in his familiar black suit, gold-rimmed glasses, and focused expression as he reviewed documents, my heart felt crushed by an icy grip, stealing my breath.

Once, he'd worn that same suit, gazing at me softly over candlelit dinners, promising to protect me forever.

Now, he prepared to testify for the woman who killed my sister.

"Order," the head elder barked, striking the table. The courtroom fell silent. "The plaintiff, Elena Rossi, accuses the defendant, Sophia Visconti, of murdering her sister, Diana Dixon, on December 15 at Bergen's docks. Defense, are you ready?"

Vincent stood, adjusting his tie, his voice clear and calm. "Ready, Your Honor."

His gaze swept over me, devoid of emotion, as if I were a stranger.

"Plaintiff, you may present your case."

I took a deep breath, stood, and fought to keep my voice steady. "Your Honor, esteemed elders, my sister Diana Dixon was a kind, ordinary florist who never harmed anyone. On December 15, she went to the docks to deliver flowers and stumbled upon Sophia Visconti's illegal arms deal. To silence her, Miss Visconti brutally killed her."

I recounted everything I saw-Sophia firing the gun, her cold indifference toward Diana's body.

My words stirred whispers in the courtroom.

Sophia's face hardened briefly before resuming its calm mask.

Vincent's turn came next.

He stepped to the center, nodded to the elders, and began. "Your Honor, esteemed elders, I was present at the scene. I can confirm Sophia Visconti is innocent. As Miss Visconti stated, Diana Dixon rushed forward, attempting to seize their goods. Miss Visconti fired in self-defense."

"Lies!" I shouted, unable to stop myself. "That wasn't self-defense. It was murder!"

Vincent shot me a warning glance. "The plaintiff will remain silent. Furthermore," he paused, pulling a report from his files, "we have evidence showing Diana Bellucci had a history of mental illness, which may explain her erratic actions."

"You're lying!" My body shook with rage. "Diana never had any mental illness! You're slandering her!"

"Enough, Elena," Vincent said, his voice chilling. "This is a courtroom. Respect the facts."

He turned to the elders. "I request to call additional witnesses."

Vincent summoned several Visconti family members, all swearing Diana attacked first, forcing Sophia to defend herself.

Throughout, Vincent remained professional and composed, as if Sophia were truly an innocent victim.

Watching him, I felt only estrangement and heartbreak.

This man, who once stayed up all night caring for me when I was sick, who fought his family for me, now trampled my sister's dignity and betrayed me for another woman.

After the arguments, the elders deliberated.

The wait stretched like a century.

I stared out at the gloomy sky, despair settling in my chest.

In this world, power and profit always trumped everything. Justice was just a game for the powerful.

Finally, the head elder announced the verdict. "After deliberation, we find the defendant, Sophia Visconti, acted in self-defense. She is acquitted."

The courtroom erupted in murmurs.

Sophia's smug smile gleamed as she looked at me, her eyes brimming with defiance and triumph.

I collapsed into my chair, drained of all strength.

Acquitted? Diana's blood spilled for nothing? The murderer walked free, untouched?

Vincent approached, removing his glasses and rubbing his brow. "Elena, it's over. Accept it."

"Over?" I lifted my tear-streaked face. "For you, maybe. For me, this is just the beginning. Vincent, mark my words-I won't let her go. Or you."

His eyes darkened. He leaned close, whispering in my ear. "Elena, don't do anything foolish. For your sake, and for Diana's memory, let this go."

His tone held a faint plea, but it was mostly a command.

I looked at him, a bitter laugh rising in my throat.

Let it go? How could I? The person lying dead on that cold dock was my sister, my only family.

I ignored him, stood, and stumbled out of the courtroom.

The frigid wind howled outside, cutting my face like a blade.

But compared to the pain in my heart, it was nothing.

Betrayal tasted so bitter.

Between Vincent and me, only darkness and cold remained.