Chapter 138 Chapter 138

Chapter 138 Chapter 138


Courthouse morning, gray building, steps leading up to justice, maybe to closure, hopefully.

Media everywhere, cameras flashing, reporters shouting questions, trying to get story, get reaction, get everything.

Landon and Sienna arriving together, his arm around her, protective, security guards surrounding them, pushing through crowd.

“Mr. Callahan, how do you feel?”

“Sienna, what do you want judge to do?”

“Will you forgive Isabella?”

Ignoring all of it, moving forward into building, into courtroom, into facing her.

Noah and Lora already inside, saving seats, family section. Victoria and Richard there too, Eleanor and Thomas, everyone supporting, everyone present.

Courtroom filling fast, people wanting to see, wanting to witness, wanting to judge.

Then door opening, side one, guards leading her in.

Isabella Hart in orange jumpsuit, still handcuffed, hair pulled back, face pale, but eyes bright, manic, unbroken.

She scanned room, looking for him, finding him immediately, staring at Landon like no one else existed.

Landon looked away deliberately, holding Sienna’s hand tighter, message clear. You lost. She won. Move on.

Isabella saw their hands together, intertwined, united, fury crossing face, visible, terrifying.

Judge entered, everyone standing, sitting when told, proceedings beginning finally.

“Case of State versus Isabella Hart,” judge announced, old man, stern face, no nonsense demeanor. “Multiple charges including kidnapping, assault, attempted murder, terrorism.”

He looked at Isabella, at defendant, at accused.

“How do you plead?”

Isabella stood, lawyer beside her trying to whisper instructions, she ignored him.

“Not guilty,” Isabella said, loud, clear, defiant.

Courtroom murmuring, shocked by audacity, by nerve, by delusion.

“Ms. Hart,” judge said, patient but firm. “Evidence against you is overwhelming. Are you sure?”

“I did what I did,” Isabella said, looking directly at judge, at everyone. “Out of love. Everything was for love. That’s not crime. That’s human.”

“Kidnapping is crime,” judge corrected, sharp, direct.

“When you love someone,” Isabella continued like he didn’t speak, like she was right, “you do whatever it takes to keep them, to win them, to make them yours.”

Sienna gripped Landon’s hand harder, hearing madness, hearing no remorse, hearing everything wrong.

David Morrison, Isabella’s lawyer, stood up fast, damage control mode.

“Your honor, if I may,” he said, professional, calm, despite client sabotaging defense. “We plead not guilty by reason of insanity.”

“Objection!” prosecutor shouted, standing too. “Defendant clearly knew what she was doing, planned everything meticulously.”

“Let him present case,” judge ordered, fair if nothing else.

David approached bench, handing documents to judge, to prosecutor, evidence prepared, researched, hoping to save client from herself.

“Your honor, I have medical records dating back five years,” David explained. “Showing Ms. Hart’s mental health struggles, depression, anxiety, obsessive tendencies.”

He pulled out specific document, highlighted section, important one.

“Three years ago, when Mr. Callahan ended their relationship, Ms. Hart attempted suicide,” David said, letting weight of words sink in. “She was hospitalized for two weeks, psychiatric ward, diagnosis of severe depression and borderline personality disorder.”

Courtroom silent, absorbing information, understanding some of it, maybe.

Landon didn’t know this, never knew she tried to kill herself over him, guilt hitting for second, then remembering what she did to Sienna, guilt leaving.

“This doesn’t excuse,” prosecutor argued, strong, passionate. “Mental illness doesn’t give permission to torture innocent people.”

“No, it doesn’t,” David agreed. “But it explains it, shows she wasn’t in right mind, wasn’t capable of understanding consequences.”

“She rigged explosives!” prosecutor shouted, frustrated. “That takes planning, intelligence, understanding.”

Before David could respond, Isabella exploded.

Literally screaming, lunging toward Sienna and Landon, guards grabbing her, holding her back barely.

“You!” Isabella screamed at Sienna, hatred pure, undiluted in voice. “You ruined everything! Everything!”

“Restrain her!” judge ordered, banging gavel loud, demanding order.

But Isabella kept screaming, fighting guards, stronger than she looked, adrenaline fueling her.

“I should have killed you!” Isabella shrieked at Sienna, spitting words like venom. “When I had the chance! I should have killed you and that baby!”

Sienna flinched, turning into Landon, hiding from rage, from hatred, from monster.

Landon stood up, ready to jump barrier, ready to protect Sienna, ready to end Isabella himself.

Noah grabbed his arm, holding him back. “Don’t. Not worth it.”

Guards finally controlled Isabella, forcing her sit down, holding her there, one on each side.

“One more outburst,” judge warned, pointing at Isabella. “And you’ll be removed from courtroom, understand?”

Isabella glared at him but nodded, breathing hard, still furious, still unrepentant.

“Continue,” judge said to David, to defense.

David called witness, man in early thirty, tall, professional, looking like Isabella around eyes, around mouth.

“State your name for record,” judge instructed.

“Marcus Hart,” man said, British accent clear, refined. “Isabella’s elder brother.”

Sienna didn’t know Isabella had brother, never heard about him, wondering why he wasn’t around before.

“Mr. Hart, where have you been?” David asked.

“London past ten years,” Marcus explained. “Working there, living there, away from family deliberately.”

“Why deliberately?”

“Because I couldn’t watch my sister self destruct anymore,” Marcus said, honest, painful. “Couldn’t watch my parents enable her, couldn’t be part of it.”

“Tell court about Isabella’s health condition.”

Marcus took breath, looking at sister, pity in eyes, sadness too.

“Isabella has been unwell since teenage years,” Marcus testified. “Obsessive behaviors, extreme mood swings, inability to handle rejection or loss.”

“Did she get treatment?”

“Sometimes,” Marcus said. “When things got bad enough, parents would send her to therapist, get her medication, but never followed through, never made her take pills, never enforced boundaries.”

“Why not?”

“Guilt,” Marcus said, simple, true. “They felt guilty for being absent, so they compensated by giving her everything, including permission to be sick without consequences.”

Kelvin and Margaret Hart sitting in back, both crying, hearing truth from son they lost, hearing blame deserved, maybe.

Judge listened to everything, medical records, testimony, evidence of instability, of illness, of everything wrong.

Then he made decision.

“Isabella Hart,” judge said, looking at her directly. “You are clearly unwell, clearly dangerous, clearly needing help.”

Isabella stared at him, waiting for verdict, for fate, for everything.

“I order you confined to psychiatric facility appointed by this court,” judge announced, firm, final. “With strict security measures in place.”

“No!” Landon shouted, standing up. “She needs prison! She tortured my wife!”

“Mr. Callahan, sit down,” judge ordered, sympathetic but unbending.

“Furthermore,” judge continued, “on no condition is Ms. Hart to leave said facility without court notice and approval.”

He paused, looking at Isabella, making sure she understood.

“When you are well Ms. Hart, when doctors deem you sane and stable, you will be made to answer for your crimes fully, completely, in criminal court.”

“But your honor,” prosecutor protested, “she needs to pay now.”

“She needs treatment first,” judge said, final word. “Dismissed.”

Gavel banging, case closed, verdict given, justice questionable.

Guards leading Isabella out, she stopped, looking back at Landon, at only person she cared about.

“I love you,” Isabella called to him, ignoring everyone else. “I love you Landon and I’ll come back for you.”

Landon stared at her, disgusted, disappointed, defeated by verdict, by system, by everything.

“Take her away,” he said, quiet, done with her, done with all of it.

Outside courthouse, Hart parents approaching Landon and Sienna, hesitant, scared, desperate.

“Mr. Callahan, please,” Kelvin said. “We’re so sorry for everything our daughter did, for pain she caused.”

“We never meant,” Margaret started, crying again.

“Stop,” Landon interrupted, cold, hard, unyielding. “I know what you’re doing. I know the game you’re playing.”

“Game?” Kelvin asked, confused, offended almost.

“You got her into psychiatric facility instead of prison,” Landon said, accusing, knowing. “Easier to get her out of mental hospital than jail. Easier to say she’s cured than serve sentence.”

“That’s not.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Landon said, stepping closer, threatening without touching. “I don’t accept your apology. I don’t forgive you. And if Isabella ever gets near my family again, I’ll destroy all of you.”

He walked away, Sienna with him, leaving Harts standing there, guilty, exposed, alone.