Chapter 6 - The Trial and the VerdictBy sunrise, the Salvatore estate looked like a fortress under federal siege—though this time, the authorities were finally on our side.
State troopers, federal marshals, and crime scene investigators swarmed the property. The shattered balcony doors in my bedroom were covered in heavy plastic sheeting, and yellow police tape cordoned off the grand staircase where Derek Hail had forced his way inside.
Derek didn't die that night, though the doctors at Cook County Hospital later confirmed he wished he had. Between the shattered jaw, broken ribs, and the mountains of federal indictments waiting for him the moment he woke up, his reign of terror over anyone’s life was permanently over.
The federal prosecutors didn't even need my testimony to bury him. The financial records Victor had provided days earlier, combined with the attempted murder, breaking and entering, and illegal firearms possession from the night before, guaranteed that Derek would spend the rest of his natural life behind bars in a maximum-security federal penitentiary.
I sat on the velvet sofa in the Salvatore study, wrapped in a warm wool blanket, watching the snow fall gently outside the tall windows.
The door opened quietly, and Victor walked in. He looked tired, the sharp lines of his face softened by the gray morning light. He carried two mugs of steaming black coffee, setting one on the table in front of me before sitting down on the opposite end of the sofa.
“He’s been transferred to the federal medical center,” Victor said quietly, breaking the silence. “His lawyers tried to file for bail. A federal judge denied it within thirty seconds.”
I took a slow sip of the coffee, letting the warmth spread through my chest. The terror that had gripped my soul for three years felt distant now—like a nightmare fading in the light of day.
“And what happens to me?” I asked softly, looking down at my hands. “Now that the storm is over?”
Victor turned his head, his gray eyes fixing on mine with an intensity that made my breath hitch.
“Whatever you want, Lena,” he answered without a moment’s hesitation. “You can stay here as long as you need. Or, if you want a fresh start somewhere far away—Paris, London, New York—my people will set you up with a new name, a new life, and protection that no one will ever penetrate.”
I set my coffee mug down on the table. I thought about the frightened girl who had walked into the Peninsula Hotel ballroom in a silver gown, carrying bruises beneath her designer fabric and living in constant fear.
Then I looked at the man sitting across from me—the man who had shattered an empire just to give me back my voice.
“I don't want a new name,” I said, my voice steady and clear for the first time in years. “And I don't want to run away.”
Victor’s eyebrows arched slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. “Then what do you want, Lena?”
I slid off the sofa, walked across the rug, and sat down right beside him on the sofa, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his shoulders.
“I want to finish my sketches,” I said softly, a faint, genuine smile touching my lips. “And I want to stay right here... where I’m finally safe.”
May you like
Victor’s expression softened completely. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing my cheekbone with infinite care.
“Then you’re home,” he whispered.
