The flickering light of the wrought iron chandeliers warms the austere face that scrutinizes me with severe eyes. A judge from another time, his gaze joins those of his colleagues, all of whom glare at me with inquisitive expressions.

Frozen for eternity, they seem to analyze me, searching for the truth. Hung on the dark wood-paneled walls, these portraits continue to pass judgment beyond the grave.

The baroque frescoes that adorn the ceiling depict scenes from Greek and Roman mythology, along with emblematic figures of justice, such as Themis, the goddess. The hearing has not yet begun, and yet, under the weight of all these immortal gazes, I feel as if I am already being judged.

Stoic, I betray no emotion, even as my ears fill with the chaos that mirrors the storm raging inside me. In a cacophony of sounds, the sharp clacking of heels on marble collides with the creaking of wooden benches as the audience takes their seats. The faint metallic clink reminds me of the presence of the two armed carabinieri standing behind me.

The fuller the room becomes, the more the solemn atmosphere gives way to palpable tension. Despite the oppressive gravity, a faint smile forms on my lips when I see my lawyer. Her confident expression contrasts with the rigidity of her attire. Dressed in the traditional black robe with silver embellishments on the shoulders, she reviews her notes one last time with intense concentration, ready, I hope, to defend me with fervor. Mirroring her at the adjacent wooden table, wearing the same robe as Felicci, the prosecutor prepares. Determined, he meticulously refines his arguments, intent on presenting a case he believes to be solid and unassailable. My smile fades as I become acutely aware of his confidence.

It's just a façade, May. You're innocent, there's no way he has anything substantial on you.

By reflex, my leg twitches and my fingers toy with Ezio's ring as my eyes search the crowd for any sign of support. Gathered behind a wooden balustrade, they all wear closed expressions. Some avoid my gaze, while others hold it. Worry, curiosity, and tension reign in harmony. My anxiety dissipates when I meet Andy's comforting and gentle eyes. Silently, she urges me to breathe deeply, assuring me that everything will be all right. I follow her cues and smile at her. The smile quickly fades, however, when I unexpectedly lock eyes with his dark, brooding gaze.

Six months. Six months since his eyes have avoided mine, ever since that night when I pushed him away. Six months that this man has haunted my thoughts, without me being able to approach him. Elusive, he is like air slipping constantly through my fingers. With pride as our burden, we let our egos guide us away from discomfort, gradually distancing ourselves.

Seated at the back, away from prying eyes, he remains impassive. His arms crossed, his expression betrays no emotion, but he nods at me with a faint smirk. Though his attitude is far from warm, it comforts me and fills me with hope for what's to come. Despite the distance between us, he's here. No matter his state of mind, my spirit can only interpret his presence as a sign of support.

The creaking of the heavy wooden doors, echoing through the room, breaks the murmurs of the crowd and my connection with Enoro. The judge enters the courtroom. In a silence where even breaths are held, he makes his way to the bench, his black robe adorned with gold braid flowing lightly with each step.

"Please rise, the court is now in session. Judge Umerio presiding," announces the clerk from his podium.

Without hesitation, everyone stands. The judge takes his place on the raised dark wooden platform, under a red velvet canopy. Adjusting his stiff white collar, he gently places the wooden gavel on his heavy oak desk before sitting down. Behind him, I notice an enormous stone crest bearing the coat of arms of Sicily, framed by Corinthian columns.

"You may be seated. Clerk, please call the case," Umerio declares.

In a symphony of creaking wood, we obey. The gavel in the judge's lifted hand catches my attention. Slowly, he strikes it on his desk, marking the start of the session. Silence falls once again, broken only by the rustle of black robes, the faint whispering of spectators, and the pounding of my heart.

"The case of May Madini versus the State is now in session," he announces.

"Are the parties ready to proceed ?" asks the judge.

Both the defense and prosecution respond affirmatively.

"The defendant, May Madini, is charged with first-degree murder. How do you plead ?"

My legs trembling, I rise and clasp my hands in front of me. From the height of the dock, I respond in a confident voice:

"Not guilty, Your Honor."

I sit back down, unable to take my eyes off the clerk who diligently transcribes everything. Neutrality personified, he becomes my refuge amidst the chaos.

"Very well. Prosecutor, you may proceed with your opening statement."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, we will prove that the defendant, May Madini, committed this murder in cold blood. We will present irrefutable evidence, including witness testimony and physical evidence, that will clearly demonstrate her guilt."

My entire body tenses under the weight of his confidence. My breathing becomes labored, and my heart races. Gripping the edges of my chair, I struggle to maintain control, determined not to show any signs of weakness.

"Thank you, Mr. Bianche. Ms. Felicci, your opening statement."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, under Article 192 of the Italian Code of Criminal Procedure, evidence must be evaluated in its entirety, and reasonable doubt must benefit the accused. We will demonstrate that the evidence presented by the prosecution is circumstantial and insufficient to establish guilt beyond a reasonable doubt. Furthermore, as stipulated in Article 74 of the same code, the accused has the right to present evidence in her defense. We will show you evidence that proves Mrs. Madini's innocence."

My lawyer's confidence swells my heart with hope. Even though nothing is won yet, her composure is a great comfort in the storm of my emotions.

"Prosecutor Bianche, you may call your first witness."

"I call Detective Damiano Rapano to the stand," he says.

Calmly, the summoned man approaches the clerk.

"Please raise your right hand. Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth ?"

"I swear."

He then takes his seat, ready to testify.

"Detective Rapano, can you describe what you found at the crime scene on the night of May 22, 2025 ?"

"Yes, we found the bodies of five servants lying in a pool of blood. All were killed by a single shot to the heart. The murder weapon, a Glock 19, was found in the storage compartment of the defendant's motorcycle. We also found the defendant herself at the scene."

After this revelation, I glance at the jury. The heart of the trial is composed of twelve ordinary citizens. Seated in a slightly elevated wooden enclosure across from me, they observe intently, some taking notes, others exchanging discreet glances. Despite my efforts, I cannot decipher a single expression—they are like statues.

"Thank you, Detective. Did you find any other evidence linking the defendant to the crime scene ?"

"Yes, we also found the defendant's footprints on the floor near the victims' bodies."

Of course, you idiot, I was there.

"Thank you, Detective. No further questions, Your Honor."

"Ms. Felicci, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Detective Rapano, when you found my client at the crime scene, what was her demeanor ?"

"She seemed emotional. She looked shaken, then surprised to see us."

"You've encountered many murderers in your career. Did she appear to you to be one of them?"

"Objection, Your Honor. This question calls for speculation and asks the witness to provide an unqualified opinion."

"Objection sustained. Counselor, please rephrase your question."

"Is this type of reaction common during criminal arrests ?"

"There are no rules, but this type is rather rare."

"And regarding the footprints, can you confirm that they were left at the time of the crime and not afterward ?"

"No, I cannot confirm that with certainty."

"One last question: who contacted the police to report the murder?"

"An anonymous call. A woman's voice."

"Have you been able to identify the caller since ?"

"No, despite our efforts, she remains untraceable and impossible to identify."

"Thank you, Detective. No further questions."

"The witness may step down. Prosecutor, your next witness," the judge instructs.

"I now call Dr. Martino to the stand."

After taking the oath, the man takes his seat.

"Dr. Martino, could you please explain to the court your qualifications and experience in criminology?" asks the prosecutor.

"Certainly, Mr. Bianche. I hold a PhD in criminology from the University of Rome, and I've spent two decades working with the police. I started as a criminal analyst for the Milanese law enforcement, and later transitioned to independent consulting in criminology for various government agencies and international organizations."

"Dr. Martino, why did you decide to become an independent consultant after so many years in the police ?"

"I've always had a strong sense of justice, and after witnessing many injustices in the system, I decided to use my expertise to seek the truth, independent of institutional constraints."

"Thank you, Dr. Martino. Could you explain to the court what you discovered during your analysis of the crime scene ?"

"The bullets that killed the victims."

"And were you able to identify the weapon ?"

"A Glock 19, without a doubt."

"Like the one found in the defendant's possession?"

"Exactly."

"Can you share the results of the analysis of the weapon?"

"By examining the murder weapon with fingerprint powder and ninhydrin, we uncovered fingerprints belonging to two different individuals. I then compared these prints with those in the national database, the AFIS. One belongs to the defendant, but the other does not match her prints."

"Were you able to identify the second set of prints ?"

"No. They are only partial."

"Thank you, Dr. Martino. No further questions."

"Ms. Felicci, you may cross-examine the witness."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Dr. Martino, is it possible that my client's fingerprints were left on the weapon at another time, long before the crime?"

"Yes, that is possible, but there is no direct evidence of that."

"Did you perform a gunshot residue test on my client's hands? And if so, what were the results?"

"Yes, we followed procedure and conducted the test. It came back negative."

"And as for the footprints, did you find any others besides my client's ?"

"We did. There were two distinct sets, though they were incomplete. One corresponds to a size 37, the other to a size 44."

"The difference is unmistakable. Were you able to establish a timeline for the footprints? One more recent than the other, or are they the same age ?"

"Yes. The size 37 print was sharper, more defined, and fresher than the size 44. Using photogrammetry, a technique that tracks changes over time in the print with 3D processing, and microbial analysis, which helps date footprints by studying the microorganisms present, we were able to determine with certainty that the size 44 print was several hours older than the size 37."

"Thank you, Dr. Martino. This clearly demonstrates that someone else was present at the crime scene. No further questions."

"The witness may step down. The jury should consider this new evidence in their deliberations. Prosecutor, your next witness."

"I now call Maria Pernisse to the stand."

Like her predecessor, the woman takes the oath and then takes her seat.

"Ms. Pernisse, can you tell the court what you heard on May 22 ?"

"Yes, of course. It was past 3 p.m. when I heard gunshots coming from the Madini estate."

"What were you doing near the manor ?"

"Walking my dog."

"Did you hear or see anything else?"

"No, nothing at all."

"Did you see the defendant at the scene ?"

"Not that day, but I did see her a few days earlier. I was walking my dog in the morning when I saw her enter the estate."

"Very well. Thank you, Ms. Pernisse. No further questions."

"Ms. Felicci, your cross-examination."

"Thank you, Your Honor. Ms. Pernisse, why didn't you call the police immediately ?"

The witness straightens up and casts a furtive glance at me before clasping her hands tightly in front of her.

"Well, I believe everyone here knows the criminal activities of the Madini family and the world they inhabit. I was afraid and didn't want to get involved, for fear of retaliation," she admits.

"And yet you're here?"

She lowers her head before raising it again, her expression confident but still fearful.

"I was once employed by the Madini family, but I was unjustly fired. Since then, I've been well aware of their criminal activities, and I feared for my life. Despite that, I want to make up for my past inaction and testify to help the justice system reach a verdict."

"Thank you, Ms. Pernisse. No further questions, Your Honor."

"The witness may step down. The court will take a fifteen-minute recess. We will then proceed with the defense."