Iván threw the divorce papers in the face of his penniless wife, then slapped her hard and chased her out of the mansion—until a mysterious man appeared, saw her bruised wrist, and shouted, "Who made my sister cry?"

Three months later.

The final court hearing for The State v. Iván took place in the Manhattan Supreme Courthouse.

The courtroom was packed to capacity with journalists, legal scholars, and spectators eager to witness the final act of the sensational downfall.

Iván sat at the defense table, wearing a faded orange jumpsuit, his hands and feet bound by heavy steel shackles. He had lost weight, his face hollow, his hair patchy and unkempt.

Beside him sat his public defender, who looked thoroughly exhausted.

Across the aisle sat Elena Morales, accompanied by Rafael and Julian. She wore a tailored white wool suit, radiating crisp elegance and undisturbed calm.

The judge slammed his gavel down, demanding silence in the courtroom.

"In the matter of the State versus Iván," the judge announced, reviewing the thick stack of financial and criminal verdicts before him. "The jury has returned guilty verdicts on all twenty-four counts, including grand larceny, bank fraud, wire fraud, domestic violence, and conspiracy to commit kidnapping."

Iván slumped forward in his chair, staring blankly at the wooden desk.

"Iván," the judge said sternly, looking down over his half-moon spectacles. "Your actions demonstrate a appalling lack of remorse, human decency, and integrity. You preyed upon an innocent woman, exploited her vulnerability, and engaged in systematic criminal activity to fund a lavish lifestyle built on lies."

The judge raised his gavel.

"I sentence you to twenty-eight years in a maximum-security state penitentiary, without the possibility of parole for the first twenty years. Furthermore, restitution in the amount of forty-two million dollars is to be seized immediately from all remaining personal assets."

BANG!

The gavel struck the block.

The courtroom erupted into quiet chatter as the bailiffs stood up to escort Iván out through the side doors.

Iván slowly turned his head, looking at Elena one last time.

There was no anger left in his eyes—only total, devastating defeat. He saw the woman he had kicked out into the freezing rain, now standing at the apex of global power, surrounded by people who loved and protected her.

He realized with crushing clarity that he had thrown away a priceless jewel to chase cheap glass.

Elena looked back at him, her face calm and serene. She didn't glare. She didn't smile triumphantly. She simply watched him go, cutting the final thread that bound her to his toxic existence.

As the heavy steel doors closed behind Iván, locking him away for decades, Rafael placed a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder.

"It's over, Elena," Rafael said gently. "He can never hurt you again."