Chapter 10 - The Trial Before the Trial
By the next morning, Chicago had chosen sides.
Half the city called Norah a hero.
The other half called her Gabriel Rossi’s newest manipulation.
Senator Bradley claimed the terminal footage had been “edited by criminal interests.” Detective Halloway disappeared from public view. Marco’s lawyers filed emergency motions before Gabriel had even decided whether Marco deserved lawyers.
Evelyn Price aired Lily’s recording in full.
On it, Bradley’s voice could be heard discussing “shipment timing,” “judge signatures,” and “Rossi’s pregnant problem.”
The phrase became a headline before breakfast.
ROSSI’S PREGNANT PROBLEM.
Norah stared at the words on television and turned it off.
“I am going to throw that screen through the window.”
Gabriel looked up from the table.
“I support your anger but question the physics.”
She glared.
He returned to the files.
For two days, their home became a war room.
Judge Mitchell, bruised but alive, moved into the penthouse under protest. He complained about Gabriel’s coffee, security, furniture, silence, wealth, and moral history. Sister Helen told him complaining was proof of vitality and then beat him at chess.
Lily and the three rescued girls were placed under emergency federal protection arranged through Evelyn’s contacts and Judge Mitchell’s former clerks.
Thomas did not return.
Gabriel did not ask for him.
Norah noticed.
On the third night, she found Gabriel in the nursery.
It had not existed that morning.
Now one of the empty guest rooms held a crib, a rocking chair, shelves, soft lamps, and boxes of baby things Gabriel had clearly ordered in a state of emotional panic.
Norah stood in the doorway.
“Did you buy every blanket in Illinois?”
Gabriel looked at the boxes.
“Only the ones without cartoon animals. Some of them seemed judgmental.”
She smiled despite herself.
Then she saw what he was holding.
A tiny navy sweater.
Her chest tightened.
“Gabriel.”
“I don’t know what babies need,” he said.
“They need food, sleep, clean diapers, warmth.”
He looked at the sweater.
“And fathers who are not monsters?”
Norah stepped inside.
“Yes.”
He closed his eyes.
“I don’t know if I can be that.”
She took the sweater from his hands and folded it.
“You asked me once why I married you.”
He looked at her.
She sat in the rocking chair, one hand on her belly.
“I married you because I saw the man you were when no one was watching. Not the charming one. Not the terrifying one. The tired one. The one who fed stray cats behind restaurants and pretended it was because rats were bad for business. The one who paid medical bills anonymously and got angry when thanked. The one who listened when I said a painting was sad.”
Gabriel swallowed.
“But I also ignored things. I told myself love could be separate from your world.”
“It can’t.”
“No.” Her eyes filled. “It has to change the world or be swallowed by it.”
He knelt in front of her.
“Tell me what you want.”
“The truth.”
“You have it.”
“All of it.”
His face became guarded.
Norah touched his cheek.
“Not tonight. But before our child is old enough to ask what you did, I want the answer to be something you can say without looking away.”
Gabriel pressed his forehead to her hand.
The next morning, he called Evelyn Price.
By evening, every major newsroom had received a document packet titled Crown Bridge Preliminary Evidence. It included invoices, transfer records, forged judge signatures, names of shell charities, and edited but damning excerpts from Marco’s statement.
It did not include Gabriel’s own criminal history.
Not yet.
Bradley responded by filing a defamation suit.
Halloway responded by issuing a warrant for Norah’s arrest as a material witness in Valente’s murder.
That was the move they had been waiting for.
At 9:12 p.m., federal agents arrived at Rossi Tower.
Not to arrest Norah.
To take her protected statement.
At 9:15 p.m., the elevators shut down.
At 9:16, the lights went out.
At 9:17, the emergency glass in the stairwell shattered.
Gabriel stood in the dark nursery, listening to the building alarms scream.
Norah looked at him.
“They’re not coming for files,” she said.
Gabriel reached for the gun he had promised not to keep in that room.
“No,” he said. “They’re coming for you.”
From the hallway, Judge Mitchell shouted, “Rossi!”
Gabriel opened the nursery door.
May you like
Smoke curled through the corridor.
And somewhere below them, men who knew his building better than outsiders should have known were coming up the stairs.
