She Kicked a Billionaire's Pregnant Wife... Then the Security Cameras Exposed Everythings

Three months later.

The Federal District Courthouse was packed to maximum capacity. The air inside the grand, high-ceilinged room was heavy with intense anticipation as news crews from around the globe filled the press gallery.

At the defense table sat Isabella Rossi.

She looked like a shadow of her former self. The months spent in solitary confinement at the federal holding facility had stripped away every trace of her former arrogance. She was dressed in a plain gray institutional jumpsuit, her white hair pulled back into a messy knot, her hands bound tightly in heavy steel handcuffs attached to a waist chain.

She sat motionless, staring blankly at the dark wood of the table, her eyes hollow and completely devoid of life. News of her father's death three months ago had completely shattered whatever was left of her sanity.

At the front of the gallery sat Marcus and Khloe Thorne.

Khloe looked radiant, dressed in an elegant ivory suit, her strength fully recovered. She held Marcus’s hand tightly in her lap. Beside them sat Dr. Julian Bennett, looking proud and relaxed.

The heavy door behind the bench opened, and Judge Arthur Vance stepped out, taking his seat as the entire courtroom stood up in respect.

"Be seated," Judge Vance announced, his stern voice echoing through the silent room. He adjusted his glasses, looking down from the bench with absolute authority.

"We are here today for the final sentencing in the matter of the United States v. Isabella Rossi," the judge began, turning his gaze toward the defense table. "Miss Rossi, you have been convicted by a jury of your peers on charges of aggravated assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder of an unborn child, and conspiracy."

Isabella didn't even raise her head.

"The video evidence presented in this trial showed a level of cold, premeditated cruelty that shakes the very foundation of our society," Judge Vance continued, his tone sharp and unyielding. "You used your position of privilege not to build, but to destroy. You showed no remorse for your actions, and you nearly ended two innocent lives out of pure, unadulterated malice."

He picked up his wooden gavel, his eyes locking onto Isabella.

"It is the order of this court that you be remanded to the custody of the Federal Bureau of Prisons to serve a term of twenty-five years without the possibility of parole."

A loud collective breath escaped the gallery. Reporters frantically typed on their laptops, while photographers snapped images through the glass partition.

Isabella didn't scream. She didn't cry. She simply let out a long, hollow exhale, allowing the bailiffs to lift her by her arms and lead her away through the side door—disappearing forever into the dark corridors of the justice system.

Khloe turned her head, resting her cheek against Marcus’s shoulder.