Chapter 6 - The Final Trial of Doña Victoria
The courtroom was packed to maximum capacity when the bailiff called the state of Illinois versus Victoria Preston to order.
Victoria sat at the defense table, her defense attorneys shuffling through stacks of character references from local charity boards and country club administrators, trying desperately to paint her as a confused, aging grandmother who acted out of "misguided concern" for her family's future.
But the prosecution didn't rely on character references; they relied on the raw, cold data recovered from the cherry-red ledger and the kitchen security feed that Alejandro had secured on the night of his return.
When the audio of Victoria's low, mocking whisper—“Sign the custody papers... or you and that baby burn”—filled the courtroom speakers, the entire room went completely silent.
Two of the jurors actively turned their heads away from the defense table, their expressions hardening into absolute finality.
Victoria didn't look at the jury; her eyes were fixed entirely on me, still filled with that same arrogant pride that had defined her entire life, refusing to believe that a girl from my background could ever dismantle her kingdom.
The judge didn't take long to deliver the sentence after the jury returned a unanimous guilty verdict on all seven federal and state counts.
"Victoria Preston," the magistrate stated, her glasses resting on the tip of her nose as she looked down from the bench. "Your actions demonstrate a level of calculated cruelty that belongs in a criminal history textbook, not a family structure. You used your son's military service as a weapon to terrorize a pregnant woman for financial gain."
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The court sentenced her to twelve years at the state maximum-security facility without the possibility of early parole, accompanied by a total asset forfeiture that stripped her name from every property deed in the county.
As the bailiffs guided her through the side exit in her orange jumpsuit, the pearls were completely gone, leaving behind nothing but an old, bitter woman who had finally run out of scripts to play.
