Updated Oct 1, 2025 • ~12 min read
Juliette woke at 5 AM to the sound of her phone buzzing.
Agent Marlowe’s name flashed on the screen. Her stomach dropped—calls this early were never good news.
“What happened?” she answered, already sitting up.
“We have a problem. Officer Kade Mercer, one of the witnesses scheduled to testify today—he’s missing.”
The same Kade who’d shot Roman at Apex. Who’d been arrested, flipped, agreed to testify against Nico in exchange for a reduced sentence.
“Missing how?” Roman was awake now too, watching her with dark eyes.
“Didn’t report to his federal holding facility last night. Marshals went to check on him—he was gone. No sign of forced entry. No struggle. Just gone.”
“He ran,” Juliette said flatly. “Got scared and ran.”
“Or he was taken. We’re investigating. But Juliette—this means you’re more important than ever. Without Kade’s testimony about taking orders directly from Nico, your eyewitness account of the threats becomes critical.”
“No pressure or anything.”
“I know. I’m sorry. But the trial starts in four hours. Are you ready?”
Was she? Juliette looked at Roman, at the fear and love and desperate hope in his eyes. Ready or not, this was happening.
“I’m ready,” she lied.
The prosecution prepped her for three hours.
Carmen walked her through every question, every answer, every possible attack the defense might make. They practiced staying calm, speaking clearly, not letting Haddad get under her skin.
“He’s going to try to rattle you,” Carmen warned. “Make you emotional, make you look unreliable. Don’t take the bait. Just tell the truth, exactly as it happened.”
“What if I forget something? What if I mess up?”
“Then you say you don’t remember. It’s better to admit you don’t know than to guess and get it wrong.” Carmen’s expression softened. “Juliette, you’ve got this. You’re credible, sympathetic, and you have no reason to lie. The jury will believe you.”
“Unless they think Roman manipulated me.”
“We’ve anticipated that argument. We’ll address it head-on. Trust the process.”
At 9:45 AM, they entered the courtroom.
Nico was already seated at the defense table, looking relaxed and confident. When Juliette walked in, he smiled at her—the same cold, predatory smile from the warehouse.
She lifted her chin and smiled back. You don’t scare me.
Another lie. But she was getting good at those.
“All rise.”
The judge entered. The jury filed in—twelve faces that would decide whether justice prevailed or failed. Juliette tried to read their expressions, but they were carefully neutral.
“The prosecution may call its next witness,” the judge said.
Carmen stood. “The People call Juliette Carver to the stand.”
This was it.
Juliette walked to the witness box on shaking legs. The bailiff swore her in—do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?—and she said “I do” in a voice that almost didn’t tremble.
She sat. Adjusted the microphone. Looked out at the courtroom full of people watching her, judging her, waiting for her to either save or destroy the case.
Roman sat in the front row, his eyes locked on hers. I’m here. You’re not alone.
“Please state your name for the record,” Carmen began.
“Juliette Marie Carver.”
“And you’re married to Roman Carver, correct?”
“Yes.”
“How did you meet your husband?”
Here we go. “Through a legal arrangement. Roman needed a spouse for… personal reasons. I needed financial help for my family. It was a contract marriage initially.”
“Initially?”
“It became more than that. We fell in love.”
“I see. And were you aware of your husband’s past when you married him?”
“I knew he’d been in prison. That he’d been convicted of murder but maintained his innocence. I knew about his father’s connections to organized crime.”
“Did that frighten you?”
“Yes. But I also believed he was innocent. And I needed the money.” Juliette swallowed hard. “My father was dying. We had hundreds of thousands in medical debt. Roman offered enough money to save my family. So I said yes.”
Carmen nodded approvingly—honesty was their strategy. “Let’s talk about the night of October 17th. Can you describe what happened?”
Juliette did. Step by step, detail by detail, she told them about the warehouse. About Nico’s threats to take her hostage, to kill her family, to destroy anyone Roman cared about. About the gun pressed to her temple. About believing she was going to die.
“And what did you think in that moment?” Carmen asked. “When Mr. Vitelli held that gun to your head?”
“I thought—” Juliette’s voice cracked. She took a breath, forced herself to continue. “I thought I’d never see my husband again. Never see my parents. I thought about how I’d married Roman to save my family, and now I was going to die because of it. I thought it was unfair. And I thought—I’m not going to let this man win.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I mean Nico Vitelli has destroyed so many lives. My husband’s. The people he’s killed. Everyone he’s hurt. And I decided—in that moment with a gun to my head—that I wasn’t going to be another victim. I was going to survive and I was going to make sure he paid for what he’d done.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Carver.” Carmen returned to her table. “No further questions.”
The judge looked at the defense table. “Mr. Haddad, your witness.”
Malik Haddad stood, straightening his already-perfect tie. When he approached the stand, his smile was almost sympathetic. Almost.
“Mrs. Carver. That must have been terrifying, what you described. A gun to your head, fearing for your life. I can’t imagine.”
“It was,” Juliette said carefully.
“But let’s talk about the circumstances that led you to that warehouse. You chose to go there, correct? Despite knowing it was dangerous?”
“I went to help my husband. To end the threats against us.”
“By walking into a trap.” Haddad tilted his head. “That seems like a rather extreme decision. Unless—and I’m just theorizing here—unless you’d been encouraged to do so. Perhaps even manipulated into thinking it was the only option.”
“Objection,” Carmen said. “Speculation.”
“I’ll rephrase. Mrs. Carver, did your husband ask you to go to that warehouse?”
“No. I insisted on going.”
“Because he’d told you it was necessary? That it would end the danger?”
“Because I wanted to help end it.”
“Of course. But you’d only known your husband for—what, a few months at this point? A man you’d married for money. A man with a violent past and connections to the exact criminal organization you’re now testifying against. Didn’t it occur to you that perhaps you were being used?”
Juliette’s hands fisted in her lap. Stay calm. Don’t let him bait you. “I wasn’t being used. I made my own choices.”
“Did you?” Haddad pulled out a document. “I have here statements from your parents indicating they believe your marriage to be coercive. That they’re worried about your safety. That—”
“My parents were scared because they didn’t understand the situation. They do now.”
“Do they? Or have you simply been isolated from them long enough that they can’t reach you? Can’t help you?”
“I’m not isolated. I’m in protective custody because people like your client want to kill me.”
“So you claim. But Mrs. Carver, isn’t it true that you’ve been living with your husband in a controlled environment for months? That all your contact with the outside world is monitored? That you’re entirely dependent on him for safety, for support, for your very survival?”
“Yes, but—”
“And in such circumstances, isn’t it possible—even likely—that you might say or do anything he asks? That you might convince yourself you love him simply because the alternative is too terrifying to contemplate?”
“That’s not what happened.”
“Then explain to me how a woman goes from marrying a convicted killer for money to risking her life for him in the span of a few months. Either you’re incredibly naive, or you’ve been manipulated. Which is it?”
Juliette felt tears burning her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to cry. “I fell in love. That’s what happened. I married Roman for money and I fell in love with him because he’s a good man who was wrongfully convicted. Because he protected me. Because he showed me what real love looks like.”
“Real love,” Haddad repeated. “Tell me, Mrs. Carver—if your husband asked you to lie on this stand, would you?”
“He didn’t—”
“Would you? To protect him? To ensure he gets his revenge against my client?”
“I’m not lying!”
“Answer the question, please. If your husband asked you to lie, would you do it?”
Juliette looked at Roman. His face was anguished, silently begging her to stay calm. She looked at the jury, at their skeptical expressions, at the doubt Haddad was planting with surgical precision.
“No,” she said clearly. “I wouldn’t lie. Not for him. Not for anyone. I’m telling the truth about what happened in that warehouse. Your client threatened to take me hostage. He put a gun to my head. He admitted to orchestrating murders and bribing law enforcement. And I’m here to make sure he pays for it.”
“How convenient that your testimony aligns perfectly with your husband’s. Almost like you’ve been coached.”
“I haven’t been coached. I’m telling you what happened.”
“Or what you’ve been told happened. What you’ve convinced yourself happened because the alternative—that you married a criminal and now have to live with that choice—is too painful to accept.”
“Objection!” Carmen was on her feet. “Counsel is testifying instead of questioning.”
“Sustained. Mr. Haddad, ask questions or sit down.”
Haddad nodded, but the damage was done. He’d planted doubt. Made her look like a manipulated victim who couldn’t tell truth from fiction.
“No further questions.”
Juliette stepped down from the stand, her legs barely holding her. Roman was there immediately, catching her arm, steadying her.
“You did great,” he whispered. “Perfect.”
But looking at the jury’s faces, she wasn’t sure they believed her.
The trial continued for three more days.
More witnesses, more evidence, more legal maneuvering. Nico never took the stand—his lawyers advised against it, knowing the prosecution would tear him apart. Instead, they relied on sowing doubt, on painting Roman and Juliette as unreliable witnesses with an agenda.
Finally, closing arguments.
Carmen was powerful, passionate, laying out the evidence piece by piece. “The defendant orchestrated murders. Bribed officials. Terrorized witnesses. And then he threatened an innocent woman to silence the truth. Don’t let him win. Don’t let fear triumph over justice. Find him guilty.”
Haddad was smooth, reasonable, sympathetic. “My client is an elderly man who’s made mistakes in his life. But the evidence presented here is circumstantial at best, the testimony of biased witnesses at worst. Roman Carver wants revenge. Juliette Carver wants to protect her husband. Neither can be trusted. You must find reasonable doubt. You must acquit.”
The jury deliberated for two days.
Two days of Juliette and Roman sitting in the safe house, unable to eat, unable to sleep, unable to do anything but wait and worry.
“What if they don’t believe us?” Juliette asked on the second night.
“Then we run. Disappear anyway. Spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.” Roman pulled her close. “But we’ll do it together. That’s something.”
“It’s everything,” she corrected. “You’re everything.”
On the third day, the call came.
“The jury’s reached a verdict,” Agent Marlowe said. “We need to be there in an hour.”
They drove to the courthouse in silence, hands clasped so tight their knuckles went white. The courtroom was packed—press, supporters, protesters, everyone waiting to see how justice would fall.
Nico looked relaxed as they brought him in. Like he already knew the outcome.
Juliette’s stomach churned.
The judge entered. “Has the jury reached a verdict?”
The foreman stood—a middle-aged woman in a cardigan, clutching a piece of paper like it was precious. “We have, Your Honor.”
“On the charge of racketeering, how do you find?”
The foreman wouldn’t meet anyone’s eyes.
Juliette held her breath.
“We find the defendant—”
The courtroom seemed to hold its breath with her, the entire world balanced on the edge of that single word.
“—guilty.”
The word exploded through the courtroom like a bomb. Reporters scrambled for their phones. Supporters gasped. Nico’s face went white with rage.
“On the charge of murder in the first degree, how do you find?”
“Guilty.”
“On the charge of witness intimidation?”
“Guilty.”
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
Every charge. Every count. Thirty-seven guilty verdicts read in succession while Nico’s lawyer objected and the judge overruled and the world finally, finally tilted toward justice.
Juliette collapsed against Roman, sobbing. He held her, his own body shaking, tears streaming down both their faces.
“We did it,” he whispered. “Holy God, we did it.”
But as they celebrated, as the courtroom erupted in chaos around them, Juliette saw Nico turn to look at them one last time.
And he mouthed two words.
This isn’t over.
The jury foreman wouldn’t meet her eyes as the verdict was read—and Juliette’s heart stopped.
But then—”Guilty.”
And suddenly, she could breathe again.
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