Chapter 394

Chapter 394:

The courtroom sat hushed as Judge Hamilton entered. The wooden benches creaked with the movement of those rising to their feet. Camille felt Alexander’s hand tighten around hers as they stood. The past eight weeks of trial had led to this moment.

“Be seated,” the judge commanded, her voice filling the high-ceilinged room.

Camille lowered herself to the bench, her back straight, her face carefully neutral. She had chosen to sit in the second row today, not wanting to be directly in Rose’s line of sight.

Rose sat at the defense table in a simple navy dress, her hair pulled back in a modest style that made her look younger, more vulnerable. A calculated choice, Camille knew. Everything about Rose was calculated.

“The jury has reached a verdict,” Judge Hamilton announced. “Bring in the defendant.”

Rose stood as the bailiff approached. Even with her wrists shackled, she moved with grace, her chin lifted. Not once during the proceedings had she shown fear or remorse. Not even when the evidence mounted day after day, witness after witness. Not even when her own words, recorded during her kidnapping of Camille, were played back to the stunned courtroom.

The jury filed in, twelve ordinary people who had listened to the extraordinary tale of jealousy and hatred that had consumed Rose Lewis’s life. None of them looked at Rose as they took their seats. A bad sign for the defense, Camille thought distantly.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?” the judge asked.

The foreman stood, a middle-aged man with tired eyes. “We have, Your Honor.”

“On the first count, attempted murder in the first degree, how do you find?”

“We find the defendant guilty.”

A soft murmur rippled through the courtroom. Camille didn’t move, didn’t blink.

Rose’s back stiffened, the only sign she had heard.

“On the second count, kidnapping, how do you find?”

“Guilty.”

“On the third count, conspiracy to commit domestic terrorism…”

The list continued. Twenty-seven charges in all. Twenty-seven times the word “guilty” echoed through the courtroom. With each pronouncement, Camille expected to feel something—relief, satisfaction, closure. Instead, a strange emptiness spread through her chest, as if she were watching a scene from someone else’s life.

Rose never turned around, never glanced back at the half-sister whose life she had tried to destroy. She stood perfectly still, like a statue carved from ice, as the verdict sealed her fate.

Judge Hamilton scheduled the sentencing for the following morning, and the bailiffs led Rose away. Only then, at the doorway, did Rose pause and look back. Her eyes found Camille’s with unerring precision. No words were exchanged, but the message in Rose’s gaze was clear: This changes nothing.

The courtroom emptied slowly. Reporters rushed out to file their stories. Lawyers gathered their papers. Alexander guided Camille through the crowd, shielding her from the questions shouted by journalists.

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