The trial lasted three weeks.
Marco testified. Showed photos of me at the Morelli estate the night of the murders. Presented communications proving I'd planned it independently, not as part of any FBI operation.
My lawyer did her best. Argued self-defense, argued that the Morellis had destroyed my family, argued that I'd cooperated with the FBI in good faith.
But the evidence was overwhelming.
On the final day, Dante took the stand.
"Mr. Morelli," the prosecutor said. "You're aware that the defendant killed your parents?"
"Yes."
"And yet you married her. Can you explain that to the jury?"
Dante looked directly at the jury. At twelve strangers who would decide my fate.
"My parents were monsters," he said clearly. "They destroyed innocent lives, trafficked children, built an empire on suffering. I know this because I spent years investigating them after their deaths."
Murmurs in the courtroom.
"The defendant—Elena—did what our justice system failed to do. She held them accountable. And yes, I know that doesn't make it legal. I know vigilante justice is still murder."
My lawyer tried to object, but Dante kept going.
"But I also know that Elena Russo is a good person who was driven to the absolute edge of human endurance. Who watched her sister die and decided enough was enough. And I know that she's spent every day since trying to atone for what she did."
"Mr. Morelli—"
"I forgive her. Completely. Fully. Without reservation." His eyes found mine. "And I'm asking you to show mercy. Because mercy is what separates us from people like my parents."
The courtroom erupted.
The judge called a recess.
And I sat there, shaking, while Dante's words echoed around me.
---
The jury deliberated for two days.
When they returned, I could barely breathe.
"On the charge of first-degree murder of Antonio Morelli, we find the defendant... guilty."
My heart stopped.
"On the charge of first-degree murder of Giulia Morelli, we find the defendant... guilty."
Dante's hand found mine, gripping tight.
The judge spoke: "Sentencing will be held in two weeks. Court is adjourned."
---
I was allowed to stay out on bail until sentencing.
Two weeks. Fourteen days.
We spent them pretending we weren't counting down.
"Run with me," I said one night. "We could disappear. South America, Asia, somewhere they'd never find us."
"And spend our lives looking over our shoulders? No." He pulled me close. "I won't live like that. Won't make you live like that."
"Then what do we do?"
"We hope for mercy. We pray the judge sees what I see—a good person who made a terrible choice in an impossible situation."
"And if mercy doesn't come?"
"Then I visit you every chance I get. And I wait for you. However long it takes."