Mia's POV
I couldn't tell which was more annoying, the shuttering sound of cameras taking pictures or the glasses that followed them.
Mr De Luca seemed unfazed, with two security personnel at his sides, he moved up the courthouse stairs like it was just another regular day.
But for me it wasn't, I hadn't had a regular day in weeks. Every morning when I peeled my eyes open I was silently hoping the last few days were a dream...but my hope was shattered.
"Miss Rhodes, do you believe your client is innocent?" A voice called out amidst the sea of noise.
What kind of stupid question was that?
If I didn't, did they expect me to turn around and say "Oh no, I don't believe he's innocent but I'm representing him either way.
But stupid or not, the question stuck.
I believed he was innocent, at least of this crime.
He could have gotten out of this easily, instead he demanded I be present and show my face. Repeatedly.
Raphael De Luca wasn't worried about going to jail. He was playing a game, one I didn't understand and was forced to be a part of.
Another question came just as we approached the doors
"Mr. De Luca, given your success and influence in the city… would you say this arrest is more about envy than evidence? Maybe a competitor is trying to knock you down a few floors?"
My eyes automatically darted to Raphael's face. A small smirk tugged at his lips.
He was amused.
As always.
He didn't respond and that didn't surprise me, he hadn't given me an answer either- not when I asked who was behind this. He simply said.
"I thought you didn't want to know anymore than you needed to."
With that smirk plastered on his face.
We stepped into the courtroom, took our seats and waited.
"Sleep well?" Raphael asked without looking at me.
I could tell he was teasing me, mocking me, because I'd go on about how I would be able to sleep at night if I took this case.
Each morning he asked, and even though I didn't humour him, the answer was yes.
I rose when the witness was called.
"Mr. McCleary," I began, voice measured. "You testified that you saw my client and the deceased arguing on the night of April 9th. You stated that Mr. De Luca threatened the deceased over something you couldn't make out. That's still your testimony?"
He nodded. "Yes."
I stepped closer. "And this memory of yours. Is it very clear?"
"Yes. It is."
"Crystal clear." I offered a small smile. "That's impressive. So tell me, Mr. McCleary… were you aware that on April 10th, the day after this supposed altercation, your bank account received a deposit of $50,000?"
He stiffened.
"And that in the two weeks following, you paid a $39,000 down payment to St. Mary's Medical Center for your wife's surgery" I added.
"Objection," the prosecutor snapped. "Irrelevant and invasive."
It was anything but irrelevant. It was my ticket out of this ordeal and I wasn't letting it go.
"Foundation is forthcoming, Your Honor," I said smoothly. "Mr. McCleary, would you like me to pull up the statement? We subpoenaed it this morning."
He swallowed. "I… my wife needed help."
I ignored his statement.
"I have to ask, did you really see Raphael De Luca that night? Because according to security footage..." I raised a tablet, tapped play "you were seen… here."
The footage played. Blurry. Dimly lit. But unmistakably a man of his build, hairline, limp, and watch, sat alone in the parking lot at Granger's Pub, clear across town.
"You were there at 10:13 PM. That's an hour away from where you claim the altercation happened."
He started to speak.
I felt back for him, he looked like a man who was desperate. Desperate but not evil.
But I couldn't afford pity, he was obviously flustered but not enough. I applied pressure.
"You know the punishment for perjury, Mr. McCleary?" I asked softly.
His mouth went dry.
"Five years in prison. Do you want to do that to your little boy while his mother is sick in a hospital bed?"
Silence.
"Objection," the prosecution said.
Mr McCleary glanced at the prosecutor. At the jury. Back to me.
I didn't blink.
It was too late to object, I could see the weight my revelation had on him.
He cracked.
"I-"He gripped the stand like he was drowning. "I think my statement… was wrong."
His voice broke. "I don't know what I saw. I just… I thought…"
He collapsed forward in a sob.
The room fell into stunned silence.
I let the pause hang. Long enough for the jury to feel the weight of what just happened.
Then, with one final look at him and returned to my seat.
"Nothing further."
The rest of the trail was a breeze.
The verdict had dropped. Not guilty.
I stood there, still gripping my notes, heart thudding. A familiar smile spread across my lips.
This wasn't the first time I'd won, but it was the first time I'd made someone crack like that, made a lie shatter. It felt foreign, good.
I turned slightly, expecting maybe a grin from Raphael, something smug or cutting. But instead, he was just watching me.
Not smiling. Not gloating.
Just watching, eyes locked, still as stone.
And for a second, it didn't feel like a win.
It felt like a test I didn't know I was taking. And somehow, I'd passed.
No. It wasn't. This was it.
The case was over, and Richard had sworn to never assign me to a case like this again.
Outside, the sun hit hard as we made our way out of the courthouse . Side by side, for appearance sake of course. And the press were right there waiting like a pack of wolves.
"Mr. De Luca, how does it feel to know justice prevailed?"
He smiled faintly.
"I believe the truth always wins, especially when someone like Miss Rhodes fights for it."
I blinked. Not just because it was his first comment.
"We need more lawyers like her. The kind who can recognize the innocent… even when the world's already judged them guilty." He added.
To them, it was a compliment.
To me? It was a mockery.
I laughed lightly, a sound I didn't feel, and faced the cameras. The flashbulbs went off.
Click.
Click.
Click.
******
Ironically now that it was over my mind had chosen tonight to resist sleep.
It was midnight yet I was sitting cross-legged on my couch staring at articles with my picture.
"Billionaire Raphael De Luca freed from murder allegations."
"Police still left with no leads concerning framing."
"Raphael De Luca, donates to St. Harry's orphanage as a show of love,"
Each article made me want to laugh. They made him seem like such a plain simple man, and I was almost starting to doubt myself.
I couldn't lie lately the thought had crossed my mind.
I'd never actually seen anything that validated Elena's gossip that he was in the mafia. He had threatened me, and had connections but that was so vague.
He was ordinary, seemingly dangerous but ordinary. I entertained the thought for a while, imagining what it would be like if I found out that Raphael's claims were a bluff and I'd fallen for it.
Oh, it would bring so much relief mixed with shame.
But every time I pictured those dark silent eyes. A part of me just knew he wasn't ordinary.
I had just sent the laptop aside when the sound of a knock ripped through the silence.
I froze.
I could clearly remember Elena saying she had a weekend getaway with some friends and she wouldn't be back till next week.
The knock came again, a little more impatient this time.
Part of me wanted to grab a bat, the one I'd gotten for Elena when she got her apartment but she refused to take.
To think I'd be the one needing it.
"Mia," a voice broke the eerie silence.
Relief washed over me as I recognised the owner.
"Hold up." I finally moved over to the door and pulled it open.
"It's pretty late Mike," I said.
Mike lived above me, we weren't really friends but he was a single dad of two little miscreants and he was pretty decent, so I figured there was no harm in being nice to him.
"Yeah sorry," he apologised, his lips curling into a smile that didn't reach his blue eyes.
"Yeah," I chorused.
The air suddenly felt awkward.
I blamed it on Elena, she'd been trying to put thoughts in my head about how Mike was giving me "the eyes" and even though she wasn't really sure about dating single dads, I could probably use the experience.
Now when I saw him all I saw was what Elena was trying to brainwash into me.
A prospect.
"Anyways," he broke the awkward silence and lifted a brown parcel I hadn't noticed him holding.
"I came to give this back, it was left for you but Audrey picked it up. I was going to come sooner but I was so busy. I'm sorry," he explained.
Oh. Audrey, the 7 year old terror.
I took the parcel from him, the moment my fingers felt it I could instantly feel the hardcover of what felt like a book.
"She ripped up the wrapping so..." He sounded exhausted just explaining.
"It's fine, really it is," I said.
He looked relieved that I was going to make a fuss about it.
"You look really nice by the way," he added out of nowhere.
That made me stiffen, I looked nice?
I had no makeup on, my hair was in the world's messiest bun and I was pretty sure I looked as tired as I felt.
It was comments like that that made me wonder if Elena was right.
"Thanks, take care of yourself," I said before closing the door.
Okay, that was...awkward.
My eyes moved down to the package in my hands, no note, not address. That had probably gone with the ripped wrapper.
I wasn't expecting anything so I was hesitant.
After a few seconds of debating I tore the packaging and sure enough it was a book. One I didn't recognise.
"The Prince." I read the title out loud.
By Machiavelli.
Why in the world was this being delivered to me?!
I flipped it open and there was a note attached to it. A small white sticky note.
"For a woman who already knows how to win without claws. Imagine what you could do if you stopped pretending you don't like blood"
A chill ran down my spine as I said the initials at the corner. Next to a lousy drawing of a face with horns.
R. L