So something must have hit my muse in the head last night. I wrote two new chapters of this story and I'm working on more! It'll be coming to an end soon!

Steph POV:

In Carlos's office, the core team sat. Tank, Les, Bobby, Carlos, myself, Rage, and Hector. Viktor went to crash in one of the empty apartments downstairs, still trying to adjust to the time difference.

"What do you want to do?" Les asked, the first one to speak up.

"I don't know if I want him in prison or if I want him dead," I answered. Carlos held my hand, stroking his thumb over the back of my hand.

"We could do both," Rage mused.

I shot him a look and he sighed.

"He goes to prison, if something happens to him there then okay. I don't want this on our conincesses." Even as I said it, if he died, it would weigh on me.

Carlos squeezed my hand. "Let's turn this over to the DA."

I nodded. "They will want Viktor to testify."

"We'll handle that later. Tank let's get Mr. Robinson here," Carlos said.

3 months later…

Two rows of the courtroom were taken up by Rangemen. The core team in the first row, and backup in the second. Today was the first day of Morelli's trial. He had decided to have a jury trial, so the last week had been spent doing jury selection.

The prosecutor had no worries, he didn't see any speed bumps along the road. The court was called to order and Morelli was brought in. He didn't look good. He had a black eye and a row of stitches across his forehead. One side of his face was covered in bruises. He wore a bright orange jumpsuit, and his hands were cuffed in front of him. He sneered at me. Carlos squeezed my hand as the proceedings started.

Over the next three weeks a tennis match proceeded in the courtroom. Out of all the prosecution witnesses I was the last to go up onto the stand.

"The prosecution calls Stephanie Manoso onto the stand," Robinson said. I stood, and Carlos squeezed my hand before letting go. I approached, pushing open the small swinging doors and walking between the prosecution and defense.

I felt the jury's eyes on me as I was sworn in by the bailiff. Robinson stood from the table and walked towards me. He smiled. "How far along are you Mrs. Manoso?"

"Twenty-seven weeks," I answered with a small smile.

"Do you know if it's a boy or a girl?"

"My husband and I have decided to keep it a surprise until the baby is born," I answered. He smiled and it began to fade.

"Mrs. Manoso, I've got to ask you some questions; some might be uncomfortable for you to answer. Are you ready?"

"Yes, and call me Stephanie," I said following his advice. We had prepped for this. By having him call me by my first name the jury would see more humanity in me, not that it was much of an issue for me. I looked like the typical happy wife, getting ready to become a first-time mother, in a loving marriage. He had used the same ploy with Carlos. He didn't fit the role of suburban husband, with a nine to five, that was happy in his marriage and had a new baby on the way.

While he was a great husband and he couldn't wait for our baby, he still looked like a hardened man that had seen more in his life than most men. So instead, one of Robinson's female ADA's and I set in on Carlos to make him look softer.

When he had visited the courtroom, he had to dress a certain way, just in case the jury recognized him. When he went up on the stand it was a whole other ball game. He had worn a soft charcoal grey suit, crisp white shirt and black and grey patterned tie. His collar length hair was slicked back with a little bit of gel giving it a soft layering and allowing some to fall over his forehead and eyes, a pair of weak prescription glasses finishing the look. Turns out Carlos needed them and refused to use them often but had acquiesced and worn them.

Robinson decided to employ this tactic when he discovered the way they had dressed Morelli for the trial. So here I was sitting on the stand, my hair falling in soft curls framing my face, makeup natural and light, a cobalt blue sweater, black pencil skirt, and kitten heels.

"Stephanie, how long have you known Joseph Morelli?"

"All my life," I answered softly.

"How long were you in a relationship with Mr. Morelli?"

"That's a little tougher to answer. Joe and I had a very complicated relationship from the time we were children to now. It was toxic and caused multiple breakups between us. I would say during our adult years we were together for four years with on and off times."

And so, Robinson launched into questions about the relationship between us. There were objections from the Defense table, but they were overruled. It took three days for Robinson to finish his questions, ripping into mine and Joe's relationship, revealing everything to the jury.

I already knew it was going to happen, but that hadn't prepared me for the memories it had dug up. All those years of mental abuse had taken its toll. Every night there was a new nightmare, about what my life would have been if I had stayed with Joe, if I had married him and tried to force myself into the burg mold.

Carlos held me after those, reassuring me he was there. Every day he bit his tongue as I was called back up to the stand. As soon as we got home, he needed to hold me for a while. This was bringing up memories for him also, memories he wanted to forget, things he didn't want to revisit. We had known going into this however it would be hard, it wouldn't be pleasurable for us, but this was the only way for us to get justice.

Finally, it was the defense's turn. I was halfway through the process of having to sit on the stand and let these strangers hear everything about my life. The defense stood and walked towards where I sat.

"Mrs. Manoso, how are you feeling today?"

"I'm feeling fine. Anxious, but fine."

"Anyone here can understand why you would feel anxious." He smiled, but I could see the venom in it. I nodded my agreement.

"Mrs. Manoso, how did you meet your current husband?"

"I met him on the job. He was my mentor when I began bounty hunting, and he slowly became my friend. After four years we decided to chance our friendship with a relationship."

"And you said you were in a relationship with my client for roughly four years?"

"Yes, roughly four years."

"Is it true that you were in a relationship with my client, you were also in a relationship with your current husband?"

"The only relationship I had with my husband while in a relationship with Joe was professional. We worked together on cases, the first one being when I picked up Joe for skipping bail after he was accused of murdering someone," I answered. Murmurs went through the jury and the gallery.

"Quiet!" The judge ordered. The voices dispersed.

"Is it true that you slept with your current husband while in a relationship with Mr. Morelli?"

"No. In the instances I did sleep with Carlos, Joe and I were on a break."

"Can you elaborate on what the two of you defined as a break?" He grinned. He thought he had this in the bag.

"I believe the way Joe defined it was we were not together but we could spend time together if we wanted to. We were allowed to see other people with no ramifications from the other. In all the breaks we went through, which are in the hundreds, I only slept with Carlos, my current husband four times."

"How many men have you slept with Mrs. Manoso? Would you say the number is under or over ten?"

"Objection! How is this relevant?"

"Your honor," I said, turning to the judge. "I would like to answer the question if you will allow me too."

"If you are comfortable answering the question," he said before turning to Morelli's lawyer. "Counselor, redirect your questioning away from this topic."

"Yes, your honor." He agreed, a sly look on his face.

"I have slept with three men. Joe Morelli, at sixteen and then again when our relationship restarted as adults, my first husband, Ricahrd Orr, and my current husband, Ricard Carlos Manoso."

After two days of the defense questioning me, it was clear that their plan was falling apart. I was dismissed from the stand and so began the closing statements. Carlos walked me out of the courtroom on the last day and kissed the back of my hand. "It's almost over, Babe."

I nodded. "It's almost over," I whispered in agreement.