Chapter 7 - The Trial
Three months later, the courtroom was packed.
Diego stood at the defense table, looking disheveled and pale. He had spent the last ninety days in a county jail after his bail was revoked due to a violation of his restraining order—he had tried to call me thirty-seven times in a single night, begging and threatening me in turns.
His father, Arthur, sat next to him, looking ten years older, his expensive suit hanging loosely on his frame. Sterling Development was bankrupt. The mansion in Cherry Hills had been seized by the bank. The family empire had crumbled into dust.
I sat in the front row of the gallery, wearing a tailored navy blue suit, my hair styled to completely reveal the small, thin scar near my temple. I wanted everyone in that courtroom to see exactly what Diego had done to me.
When it was my turn to take the stand, I walked up with absolute confidence. I looked directly at the jury, and then, for a brief moment, I looked at Diego. He flinched and looked down at the table.
For two hours, I detailed the abuse, the manipulation, and the night of the family dinner. I spoke clearly, without tears, presenting the facts with the precision of an architect. When the defense attorney tried to cross-examine me, suggesting that I had provoked Diego, I calmly pointed to the medical records, the forensic evidence of the shattered plate, and the recorded 911 call.
"Mr. Sterling didn't just throw a plate," I told the jury. "He attempted to violently silence me because I refused to let his family steal my life's work. It was not a crime of passion. It was a calculated act of violence."
The jury deliberated for less than three hours.
"On the charge of second-degree assault, we find the defendant, Diego Sterling, guilty."
"On the charge of identity theft and bank fraud, we find the defendant guilty."
Diego was sentenced to seven years in a state penitentiary, with no possibility of parole for the first four. Arthur received a hefty fine and five years of probation, completely ruining any chance he ever had of doing business in the state again.
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As Diego was led away in handcuffs, he looked back at me one last time. There was no anger left in his eyes—only a profound, terrifying realization of his own ruin.
I simply nodded, turning my back on him forever.
