Chapter 18
1421words
Seraphina Sterling sat in the defendant's seat, her once-proud golden hair now disheveled and clinging to her cheeks, the dark circles under her eyes telling of countless sleepless nights. Her handcuffs glinted coldly under the courtroom lights, these metal restraints more painful to her than any humiliation.
"Will the defendant please rise."
The judge's voice echoed through the silent courtroom. Seraphina slowly stood up, her legs trembling, not from fear, but from anger—anger that this world would dare to judge her.
The prosecutor cleared his throat and began to read the indictment: "The defendant Seraphina Sterling is charged with first-degree murder, incitement to commit crimes, and multiple counts of aggravated assault..."
Every charge felt like a heavy hammer striking Serafina's chest. She looked around, searching for any familiar face—her parents, her social circle friends, or even her legal team.
Not a soul.
The spectator seats were filled with unfamiliar faces, mostly media reporters and curious onlookers. Those celebrities and powerful figures who once surrounded her now avoided her like the plague.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sterling cannot attend due to an urgent business meeting," her lawyer had explained before the court session, but Serafina knew it was an excuse. From the moment she was arrested, the Sterling Family had already begun to distance themselves from her.
The evidence Damian provided was lethal: recordings, documents, bank records, and testimonies from those subordinates who were once loyal to her. They now stood on the prosecutor's side, revealing one by one every harmful act she had instructed them to carry out.
"The jury has reached a unanimous verdict."
The judge's voice interrupted Serafina's thoughts. Her heart began to race wildly, and for the first time in her life, she felt the terror of having her fate completely out of her control.
"On the charge of first-degree murder, we find the defendant... guilty."
"Guilty."
"Guilty."
Each "guilty" felt like a bullet piercing her soul. Serafina's legs could no longer support her, and she collapsed heavily into her chair.
At that moment, her gaze swept across the gallery, stopping on a figure in the back row.
Elira Vance.
She sat there, dressed in a deep blue suit, her hands resting quietly on her knees. Her face wore an expression Serafina had never seen before—not the joy of victory, not the rage of successful revenge, but an almost divine smile that was both compassionate and cruel.
Like an angel pitying a fallen demon, yet unwilling to extend a helping hand.
Serafina wanted to say something, wanted to scream, wanted to question, but she found herself unable to make any sound. She could only stare at Ella, at that face she had once trampled beneath her feet, now gazing down at her with lofty compassion.
"Defendant Seraphina Sterling, this court sentences you to life imprisonment without the possibility of parole."
The sound of the gavel echoed throughout the courtroom, marking the complete collapse of Serafina's old world.
---
The doors of the New York State Women's Prison closed heavily behind her.
Serafina was assigned to Zone D—where all the serious offenders were held. Her cell was a cramped space of three by four meters, containing an iron single bed, a toilet, and a small sink. The paint on the walls was peeling everywhere, emitting a musty smell mixed with the pungent odor of disinfectant.
"Welcome to your new palace, Your Highness."
The guard escorting her said in a mocking tone. The guard's name was Sandra Rodriguez, a Latina woman in her forties, with undisguised hostility in her eyes.
"I want to see the warden," Serafina tried to maintain her usual arrogance, "I demand..."
"You demand shit." Sandra rudely interrupted her, "In here, you are nothing. You're just a prisoner, number 47291."
The cell door slammed shut with a "clang." For the first time, Serafina realized that she had truly lost everything.
The next day, she met her "roommates" in the cafeteria.
"Well, if it isn't our noble princess?"
The speaker was a woman named Roxy who had been sentenced to fifteen years for robbery and assault. What shocked Serafina was that Roxy's eyes held a familiar hatred when looking at her.
"Don't you remember me?" Roxy sneered as she moved closer, "Five years ago, your Sterling Group acquired the factory where I worked, then immediately fired all the workers. My husband died from alcoholism after losing his job, and my son because we couldn't afford medical bills..."
Serafina tried to back away, but she found herself surrounded. Other female inmates had also gathered around, all with the same expression on their faces—deep hatred for the Sterling Family.
"My brother got leukemia because of your family's toxic chemical plant."
"My mother was forcibly evicted from her home by your company."
"My family committed suicide because of your usury."
Serafina finally realized—this was no coincidence. Ella and Julian had arranged everything from the beginning, and everyone she had met here was a victim of the Sterling Family's Business Empire.
She was pushed to the ground, with punches and kicks raining down on her like a storm. Her body, once pampered and spoiled, had never endured such pain before. She curled into a ball and let out heart-wrenching screams.
But no one came to save her.
The prison guards either looked away or pretended not to hear. Some guards would even deliberately walk slower, allowing this "education" to last longer.
---
Three months later.
Serafina had become completely unrecognizable. Her face was covered with bruises and scars, her once silky blonde hair had been cut into an ugly short style, and her eyes no longer showed any trace of arrogance—only fear and despair.
She had learned to curl up into a ball before violence arrived, learned to stand at the back of the line during food distribution, learned to walk with her head down, learned not to dare raise her head in front of anyone.
On this day, she received a letter.
There was no sender's name on the envelope, but Serafina recognized the familiar handwriting.
"Dear Serafina,
I hope you are enjoying your new home. I heard you've learned many new skills recently—such as how to protect vital organs when being beaten, how to get a bit of food scraps from other prisoners' plates, how to stay quiet in the middle of the night to avoid disturbing your roommates' sweet dreams.
Do you know? Your life now is the life I had at fifteen. Every evening, every deep night, every moment when I thought I would never see tomorrow's sun again.
The difference is that my hell lasted three years, while yours will last a lifetime.
I could have let you die quickly, but that would have been too merciful for you. Death is a release, and you don't deserve release. You need to live, need to spend the rest of your life experiencing what it feels like to be trampled underfoot, to understand the despair and fear of the weak.
Although I doubt, with your intelligence, you'll ever truly understand any of this.
But it doesn't matter, understanding is no longer important.
Will never forgive you,
E.V."
After reading the letter, Serafina trembled as she tore the paper to pieces. But she knew that even if she destroyed this letter, she couldn't tear away her current reality—this cruel hell from which there was no escape.
She finally understood that Ella hadn't given her death, but something far more terrifying than death: a living hell, a judgment that would never end.
Night had fallen deep, and Serafina curled up on the cold iron bed, listening to the snores and sleep-talking of other prisoners in the cell. She closed her eyes, trying to recall her former life—champagne, diamonds, silk dresses, and the flattery of crowds.
But those memories now felt like someone else's life, as distant as a dream.
Just then, footsteps sounded outside the cell. The beam of the guard's flashlight swept across the iron bars.
"Sterling, someone's here to see you."
Serafina opened her eyes, a glimmer of hope rising in her heart. Perhaps it was her mother? Perhaps there was still a chance for things to turn around?
But when she was led to the visiting room and saw the person sitting on the other side of the glass, she turned to stone.
It was Elira Vance.
She was smiling, holding a file folder in her hand.
