Page 74 of Bound in Ruin

Literally.

Before I can dwell on my unseemly thoughts, the side door near the bench opens with a sharp click.

"All rise," the bailiff calls out, his booming voice echoing off the high ceilings. "The Honorable Judge Arthur Sterling presiding."

Everyone in the gallery and at the counsel tables stand in unison, the soft scraping of wooden chairs filling the quiet room.

Judge Arthur Sterling steps up to the bench. He looks pristine in his black robes, very different from his casual demeanor at the cooking class. But as he arranges his papers, I catch the slight, nervous tremble in his fingers. His skin looks sallow, and dark circles bruise the underside of his eyes.

For a split second, his gaze flickers down toward our table. The moment his eyes collide with Dominic's, Sterling's chest hitches, and he looks away instantly, swallowing hard.

"Please be seated," Judge Sterling says, his voice carrying a thin, strained tightness.

We sit. Beside me, Dominic settles back into his seat with the easy, dangerous grace of a predator who already knows the outcome of the hunt.

Across the aisle, Dante leans back, crossing one leg over the other. The arrogant smirk on his face is insufferable. Every second that passes only seems to fuel his confidence. He adjusts his cuff links, casting a lingering, triumphant look at me before whispering something to his attorney, who nods with an equally smug expression. Dante truly believes he has this in the bag. He thinks his money, his threats, and his connections have bought him the outcome he desires.

Judge Sterling clears his throat, the sound echoing through the microphone.

"We are here today to deliver the final ruling in the matter of the Estate of Luciano De Lorenzo," Sterling begins, his hands flattening over the Manila folder on his desk.

"Both parties have submitted their final arguments and supporting documentation regarding the validity of the revised will and the distribution of the estate's primary assets, including the holding companies, real estate portfolios, and private accounts."

Dante’s attorney stands up smoothly. "Your Honor, if I may briefly reiterate⁠—"

"You may not, Counsel," Sterling interrupts sharply, his voice cutting through the air like a knife. "I have thoroughly reviewed every piece of evidence, every financial record, and every witness statement provided to this court. I require no further grandstanding."

Dante’s smirk falters for a fraction of a second, his brow twitching slightly as he sits back upright.

My heart leaps into my throat, hammering wildly as Judge Sterling adjusts his glasses and looks down at the final ruling before him.

"After careful consideration of the late Luciano DeLorenzo’s last will and testament, alongside the corporate charters and asset deeds presented to this court," Judge Sterling begins, his voice tight but echoing clearly through the microphone, "this court finds the contested amendments fully valid and legally binding."

Dante’s lawyer half-rises from his chair, but Sterling holds up a stern hand, silencing him instantly.

"Furthermore," Sterling continues, reading directly from the decree, "the court orders that the primary controlling interest of the De Lorenzo estate—including forty-nine percent of all corporate voting shares, the real estate portfolio, and all designated private holdings and intellectual assets bearing the name of Rosalia Caruso—be immediately surrendered to her. All business files, titles, and governing documents associated with these assets are to be fully executed and transferred into the sole custody of Rosalia Caruso no later than five o'clock tomorrow afternoon. Court is adjourned."

Crack.

The wooden gavel strikes the block, and the sound reverberates right through my chest.

A sharp, ragged breath escapes my lips as tears immediately sting the back of my eyes. My hands fly up to cover my mouth, a breathless, hysterical laugh spilling out against my palms. We won. The crushing weight that had been pressing down on my lungs for months suddenly vanishes, leaving behind an overwhelming, dizzying rush of pure joy and relief.

"Oh, my God," I whisper, my shoulders shaking as I look down at the polished wood of the table. "Oh, my God."

Judge Sterling doesn't wait for a single reaction. He practically gathers his robes, steps down from the bench, and disappears into his chambers through the side door with astonishing speed. His chamber door snaps shut, locking from the inside.

Beside me, our attorney lets out a long exhale, taking off his glasses to polish them. "Congratulations, Mrs. Kane."

Across the aisle, a chair screeches violently against the marble floor.

"This is an absolute fucking joke!"

Dante's roar shatters the formal quiet of the courtroom. He slams both palms onto the counsel table with a deafening thud, sending a thick stack of legal papers flying across the floor.

"What the hell is this?" Dante screams toward the empty bench, his face flushed a dark, dangerous red, his jaw working violently as he looks around the room.

"Mr. De Lorenzo, please, calm down—" his lead lawyer stammers, reaching out a trembling hand to touch his arm.