Chapter 7: The Trials That Never Happen
886 Words
Justice is loud when it arrives.
But when it disappear, It leaves silence sharp enough to cut you though.
The world expects a trials.
They always do.
People want a courtroom, a judge, a evicted, a lawyer —something clean and final.
They want the fall of a billionaire to follow the rules that make them feel safe.
Adrian understand this instinct.
That’s why he prepare for a trial that will never exist.
---
Subpoenas are issued.
Summons are draft.
Legal analyst flood television screens, debating possible charge with excitement and precision.
Fraud.
Obstruction.
Financial misconduct.
Conspiracy.
The words pile up like a stone on a grave that hasn’t been dug yet.
Vale Industries freeze a major operations “voluntarily.”
Adrian’s lawyer call it cooperation.
The media calls it fear.
I call it theater.
Watch them fall apart.
---
He didn’t deny anything outright.
Denial is for the weak.
Instead, he buried the truth under complexities.
Shell corporation become “standard business practice.”
Missing record become “errors.”
Dead mens become “tragic coincidences.”
He hires former prosecutors.
Former judges.
Men who once believed in the law are now believe in invoices.
Meetings stretched past midnight.
Documents move faster than conscience.
Entire department are sacrificed to
protect the core.
Adrian never raise his voice.
He sharpen.
---
The name is Elena Morales.
She’s young enough to believe in consequences.
Smart enough to know this case could end her career.
She files motions anyway.
Pushes subpoenas throughout resistance.
Asks questions no one wants to answer.
The press adore her.
Woman Who Might Take Down a Titan.
Adrian read the headline once.
Then delete it.
“She’ll be offered something better.” he says calmly. “Or worse."
He didn't specify.
He never did.
---
Witnesses recant.
Evidence goes missing.
One accountant forget dates.
Another suddenly need medical leave.
A third relocate to a country without any reasons.
The story changes rapidly.
From investigation to complication.
To charges pending to no clear violation found.
The public did not notice at first.
They never do.
They are blind.
I sat beside Adrian during meeting.
Unassuming.
Quiet.
Mostly invisible.
They talk freely around me.
They assume I don’t understand.
They assume wives don’t matter.
Wives are just decoration.
One lawyer say, “If we delay long enough, the pressure will vanish.”
Another replied “It always fade.”
Adrian nod.
He done this before.
---
Outrage has a short lifespan.
Another scandal break.
Another villain appear.
The headlines shifted.
Vale Industries slides from front-page fury to page-seven speculation.
Analysts soften their tone.
Stock stabilizes.
The world exhales freely.
They think the danger passes.
They didn't realize it was reroute.
Elena Morales announced her resignation on a Thursday noon.
No explanation.
No speech.
She accept a position at a private firms specializing in “international compliance.”
The article run small.
With footnote.
Adrian didn't comment.
That night, he pours himself a drink.
“To misunderstanding,” he say.
I didn’t raise my glass.
---
Court dates are postpone.
Then delayed.
Then quietly removed from calendar.
Legal experts use words like procedural challenges and insufficient evidence
No one say the truth.
The law didn’t failed.
It was outbid.
He walk through the house lighter.
Smiling.
The staff relaxe.
Security scale back.
The empire exhales.
“This end now,” he tells me one evening.
“People's will forget.”
I look at him.
“They always do.” I agree.
He doesn’t hear the warning.
He only hear victory.
Vale Industries survive.
Barely bruises.
Adrian keep his freedom.
His name.
His wealth.
But something else did gone.
Certainty.
He sleep less.
Trust no one.
Checked locks twice.
Victory that comes too easily taste like poison.
Not me.
Never me.
He suspect rivals.
Executives.
Worldly competitors.
He hires private intelligence to hunt shadows.
They deliver reports thick with speculation and nothing solid.
Adrian grows irritate.
“Someone started this....” he mutters.
“Yes.” I say softly.
“They didn’t finish it.”
I didn’t answer.
---
No sentencing.
No verdict.
No justice.
Just silence.
And silence breeds resentment.
Forums fill with conspiracy theories.
Podcasts dissect timelines.
Amateur investigator refuse to let the story die.
The case become a ghost.
And ghost are harder to burn and bury than bodies.
---
He celebrated too soon.
Close allies.
A private dinner.
Expensive wines.
He laugh.
“To survival.” he says.
“To power.” someone added.
I watch the room.
These people didn't believe in him anymore.
They believe in distance.
Escape.
In exits.
Empires don’t fall when enemies attacked.
They fall when allies plan their own exits.
The city glow below.
Alive.
Unforgivable.
Adrian sleeps behind me, breathing steady, convince that the worst has passed.
The law fail.
The courts step aside.
The trial never happened.
Good.
Very good.
Because trial end things.
And I am not done.
---
It doesn’t need a sentence.
It doesn’t need a applause.
It needs time.
Patience.
Access.
The world wanted justice.
I want justice.
And Adrian bought silence.
But I chose something better.
Consequences.
---
Still heavy.
Still cold.
Still useful.
“The trial did not happen.” I whisper to my reflection.
“But the reckoning will.”
And this time—
There will be no appeals.
- Writer
