Chapter 13
Carlo’s trial was worse.
Milena had been cruel.
Carlo was poison with a pulse.
He smiled at jurors.
Nodded respectfully.
Called Isabella tragic.
Called Luke unfortunate.
Called me emotional.
Then the prosecutor played his own recorded words from my courtyard.
I protected the family.
The smile faded.
Witness after witness came forward.
The nurse.
The funeral director.
The old lawyer.
One of Carlo’s former guards.
Then Lucia.
Then me.
I took the stand on the eighth day.
Carlo watched me like we were still boys playing war in my father’s garden.
The prosecutor asked, “When did you learn Luke Romano was your son?”
“The night Milena struck his dinner plate from his hands.”
“And before that?”
“I was told his mother had abandoned me.”
“By whom?”
“My wife and Carlo.”
Carlo’s attorney stood.
“Objection.”
Overruled.
The prosecutor asked, “What did you do when you learned the truth?”
I looked at the jury.
“I called the law.”
A few people shifted.
They knew my name.
They knew what men like me usually did.
So did Carlo.
That was why his face darkened.
He wanted me bloody.
He wanted me predictable.
Instead, I gave him transcripts.
DNA.
Financial records.
Isabella’s voice.
On the final day, Luke asked to speak at sentencing if Carlo was convicted.
I said no first.
Then he said, “He heard Mom. I want him to hear me.”
The jury found Carlo guilty on every major count.
Unlawful confinement.
Conspiracy.
Fraud.
Extortion.
Charges connected to Isabella’s death.
At sentencing, Luke stood at the podium.
His hands shook.
But his voice carried.
“You took my mom from me before she died,” he said. “You took my dad before I met him. You made me think being hungry was normal.”
Carlo stared ahead.
Luke continued.
“But you didn’t erase her. I found her voice. And you didn’t erase me. I’m standing here.”
I covered my mouth.
My son looked at the judge.
“I want him to never hide another family.”
Carlo was sentenced to life.
Luke did not smile.
Neither did I.
May you like
Justice had arrived.
It did not bring Isabella back.
