As the prosecuting attorney introduced himself before the judge, a fervent silence filled the courtroom. At this point, an introduction by the defendant's attorney should have followed; however, the only introduction they heard was the resounding silence of the court, too loud and definite.Nevertheless, this fervent silence did not persist for more than ten minutes. The courtroom door suddenly burst open, and a man in sunglasses walked in. He wore a gray suit with a crisp white shirt underneath. His shoes, a well-polished brown Italian pair, produced a rhythmic knocking sound as he walked into the courtroom, echoing through the solemn halls of justice.If Isabella did not recognize this man, it would be a lie. She observed that, just as he had entered the interrogation room to visit her, he now strode into the courtroom, even carrying the same briefcase.As she continued to gaze at him like a curious cat fixated on an elusive butterfly just out of reach, her heart raced faster, like
"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
“What more do you possibly have to confess? Or do you want to make false accusations? You have already admitted to your accused crime that you killed your child, and it is only right that you keep your mouth shut while the court sentences you for your crime. Your Honor, I hereby plead that we skip whatever may be left and proceed to your judgment, as the defendant has already admitted her crime and, for that reason, cannot be deemed worthy of...“Objection!” The prosecuting attorney interrupted immediately.“Objection overruled,” the judge said, and immediately, prosecuting attorney Stevens began to argue his point while defendant attorney Hughes took his seat.“Your Honor, it is in the best interest of the court to find out whatever crime we do not yet know that the defendant has to confess. If her guilty conscience is pushing her to talk, why not let us lend her a listening ear? With this, we can judge her more accurately without any bias.”“Objection!” defendant attorney Hughes int
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
Coming out of the courtroom and being ushered into the police van, Isabella saw that the numbers of the press outside the courtroom, waiting to televise her and write about her in all newspapers, social media, and blogs, were more than what she had seen before she entered the courtroom.However, this time, there was a difference. Judging by how it was before, the reporters would already swarm her and thrust their microphones toward her, even when she said nothing, other than the officers behind her making way for her to pass through.This time, the reporters only filmed her from afar, as she was being put in the police van and would soon be driven to prison, where she would no longer be free. Nevertheless, it did not mean that the reporters did not scramble at anyone because, to Ethan Mark and Emily Collins, who stepped out of the courtroom with Mr. Smith standing firm behind them, the reporters rushed and thrust their microphones toward his mouth.In this way, Isabella saw how they w
"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 felt a pang of nostalgia for the bright sky she now missed. For a long few seconds, she peered at the sky and wondered when she would be free to witness the bright sky at any hour of the day she wanted.In the same manner, as her eyes slowly fell from the sky, she observed the towering walls casting shadows over the enclosed space, and the mesh fencing above restricted her view of the open heavens.“Step in,” she heard as the metallic door separating the corridor and the prison yard was opened by one of the guards behind her. Just as she was instructed, she stepped in.“Turn and place your hands through the cuff port,” she heard again, and just like that, she placed her hands through the cuff port, and her handcuffs were unlocked immediately.“All prisoners have only two hours in the yard. So make good use of your time,” one of the officers said. Isabella saw them turn back and walk continuously into the corridor.Inside the yard, Isabella also felt a sense of confinement as
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