The moment I tapped four times against the marble floor, New York’s most feared mafia boss ordered his men to lock down the ballroom.

The federal courtroom in lower Manhattan was packed to absolute capacity. Journalists, federal marshals, and high-ranking government officials sat in tense, suffocating silence beneath the towering marble pillars of the appellate bench.

I sat in the front row of the gallery, flanked by Danny and Luca, who were resting quietly on either side of me, their hands safely tucked in mine. Across the aisle, sitting at the defense table with an expression of cold, unyielding granite, was Dante Moretti.

He wore a pristine charcoal suit, his hands resting loosely on the mahogany table. He didn't look like a captive or a criminal; he looked like a king awaiting the surrender of his enemies.

The heavy oak doors at the front of the courtroom swung open, and Federal Judge Margaret Vance—unrelated to the corrupt Deputy Attorney General, and known across the eastern district for her absolute incorruptibility—stepped up to the high bench, her black robes rustling softly.

“Be seated,” the bailiff announced loudly.

The courtroom settled into an absolute, breathless hush as Judge Vance adjusted her reading glasses and looked down at the thick stack of printed transcripts and digital drive readouts resting before her on the bench.

“This court has reviewed the unredacted master ledger submitted early this morning by independent investigative networks,” Judge Vance began, her voice carrying clearly across the silent room. “The documents, authenticated by independent forensic auditors and decrypted via cryptographic keys provided by Miss Sophie Vance, detail a decade-long conspiracy of extortion, money laundering, and obstruction of justice coordinated at the highest levels of the Department of Justice.”

In the gallery, several high-ranking federal prosecutors shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Near the back row, Deputy Attorney General Harrison turned visibly pale, his hands gripping the wooden pew in front of him so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Furthermore,” Judge Vance continued, her eyes sweeping across the courtroom before landing directly on Harrison, “the federal warrants executed against the Moretti estate this morning have been ruled entirely unlawful, initiated under falsified national security directives designed to conceal public corruption.”

A sharp murmur rippled through the gallery.

“Consequently,” Judge Vance declared, bringing her gavel down with a sharp, resonant crack that echoed off the marble walls, “all charges against Dante Moretti and Sophie Vance are dismissed with prejudice. Furthermore, this court is issuing immediate federal arrest warrants for Deputy Attorney General Harrison and his co-conspirators on counts of corruption, conspiracy, and obstruction.”

Chaos erupted in the courtroom as federal marshals moved swiftly down the center aisle, placing handcuffs on a sputtering, furious Harrison while journalists scrambled toward the exits to file their breaking reports.

Dante didn’t smile. He simply stood up from the defense table, turned around, and looked directly across the room at me.

Our eyes locked through the settling dust of the courtroom chaos.

He walked slowly down the aisle, stopping right in front of our bench. He looked down at Danny and Luca, who both looked up at him with quiet trust, before his gaze settled on mine.

“It’s over,” Dante said softly.

I stood up, stepping out from the pew to stand right beside him. The weight of the past three years—the exhaustion, the fear, the struggle to survive—finally dissolved away completely.