"Your Honor, at this time, the prosecution calls its first witnesses to the stand: Maria and Daniella, two witnesses who observed the events leading to the alleged crime. Please approach the witness stand," the prosecuting attorney announced. At this instance, if Isabella's eyes did not express shock, it would be a lie. Not that she was scared of what the witnesses were going to say about her. However, she did not expect that anyone would see them as they progressed to the 40th-story building. Thus, she continued to scan the court audience to identify these witnesses. Immediately, she saw two elderly women rise to their feet. They were dressed in modest yet neatly tailored attire, reflecting a sense of timeless elegance. The first old woman wore a knee-length floral dress with muted colors, while Daniella opted for a classic blouse paired with a long skirt. Their appearance conveyed a blend of wisdom and dignity, befitting their status as witnesses in the courtroom. In this way, Isa

She opened her mouth to narrate who was in the interrogation room with them, but the only words that came out were her stammering words as if she were struggling to talk right from the moment they gave birth to her: "People were... we were the... You asked them to leave while you discussed it with me." “Your Honor, obviously, as I said, what more can a criminal like Mrs. Isabella Rosewood have to say than to bring someone else down with her? The fact that she confessed to her crime and the fact that I, as her defending attorney, persecuted her instead mean that she wants to bring me down with her. And as it is in the court of law, whatever anyone claims, there should be evidence to back it up, be it in words or in documents. If Mrs. Isabella Rosewood here cannot provide this evidence, it means that she spoke lies against her attorney, and she should be equally punished for that as well,” Attorney Hughes said immediately. “Mrs. Isabella Rosewood, is there any evidence that you have to

"One way in and one way out. There are two hundred officers and twenty prison cells on an island in the middle of the ocean. Each cell is a silent witness to the stories etched in the concrete walls. All of this is what Isabella heard as she stepped her foot onto the prison ground on the night of her sentencing.In the same way, she knew that everything she heard from the officers taking her to her cell was true. So was the fact that she saw how they had traveled by road and by large, deep water to get to this far prison purposely distant from the residents of the people.In the same spirit, she was able to tell that this prison looked so different than the one she had been locked up in before. Such were the surrounding waters, the waves of them, and the breezes that preached the confinement of the prison to be made for notorious criminals.“We are going to see how you will escape this prison this time, Daddy’s girl. Any mistake from you, and you will be thrown into the ocean, and the

Isabella's eyes, lips, cheeks, and every feature on her face bled profusely from the barrage of punches Elara had decided to decorate her face with, creating a macabre masterpiece that mirrored the brutality etched upon the canvas of her battered visage. Even so, it did not mean that Elara stopped; she continued to yell and relentlessly push punches into Isabella's face. "Go Elara! yes! hit that motherf**ker," Isabella continued to hear as they cheered Elara up into hitting her some more. Her vision in this moment became blurry as she struggled to flicker it open; hence, it shut down into darkness. Nevertheless, it did not mean that Isabella gave up the ghost. In this manner, it only meant that Isabella was defeated, drained of all her strength. Even if, by some chance, she were skilled with her hands in combat, she had no strength left to throw a punch with her tired arms. Hence, the only thing she could do was receive the punches as she struggled for her life, unable to pass out f

Like a criminal intending to break into a home at night, Detective Sharon observed how Attorney Hughes looked right and left, front and back. When he saw that no one noticed him, Detective Sharon witnessed how he quickly unlocked the door and went in. “Are you sure this is his house, or did he just break in?” Detective Sharon inquired once more, her voice cutting through the silence like a razor through paper, slicing through the darkness with the precision of a surgeon’s scalpel. “Yes, this is his home. I can’t visibly see why he did that unless you're willing to tread closer to the house,” Detective Cipher responded, her words hanging in the air like a delicate thread, daring Detective Sharon to unravel the mystery veiled in the shadows. As Detective Cipher spoke, Detective Sharon plugged her earbuds into her ears to aid communication between Detective Cipher and herself. She then opened her car door and bent out of it. Her height by her car was not taller than her car tires, as s