Chapter 8 - The Arraignment
The courthouse was packed with reporters. The fall of the Vargas family had become the scandal of the decade.
Isabella sat between Marcus and me in the front row of the gallery, wearing a sharp, tailored white suit. She looked like a queen—unbreakable and radiant. Her bruises were easily hidden with makeup, but she chose to leave a faint shadow of a bruise on her cheek visible. She wanted the judge to see it.
Victoria was led into the courtroom wearing an orange jumpsuit, her hair unkempt, her arrogance completely broken. When she saw Isabella, she visibly flinched.
The judge, a stern woman who had zero patience for high-society entitlement, reviewed the charges.
"Bail is denied," the judge’s gavel slammed down like thunder. "The defendant represents a clear and present danger to the victim and possesses a high flight risk. She will remain in county lockup until the trial."
Victoria collapsed into her chair, weeping hysterically.
As they led her away, Marcus stood up and walked to the aisle. Victoria looked at him, her eyes filled with absolute terror.
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"You did this," she sobbed.
"No, Victoria," Marcus said quietly, adjusting his cuffs. "You did this the moment you raised your hand against Isabella Thorne. Enjoy your new estate. I hear the cell blocks are quite cozy this time of year."
