Chapter 7

We arrived at the New York courthouse through a rear entrance, a secluded area heavily guarded by officers and lined with black vehicles. From here, it was impossible to tell how many people were gathered outside or if there were any supporters waiting for Luigi. The tension in the air was palpable, a quiet pressure building as we prepared to step out.

As the car came to a halt, I opened the door and motioned for Luigi to exit. The chains on his wrists and ankles clinked faintly as he stepped down, his movements measured and deliberate.

The entire drive here, he hadn't said a word. Not one. He hadn't even looked at me. I'd glanced at him a few times, searching for something maybe reassurance, maybe acknowledgment but he kept his gaze firmly fixed ahead, his expression blank.

By the time we arrived, I couldn't help but wonder if he was angry with me. Was it because of the chains? The thought lingered, an unwelcome weight on my chest. I couldn't shake the image of his eyes meeting mine back at the prison, that fleeting moment where it felt like he'd seen right through me. And now? Nothing.

I placed my hand gently on his arm to guide him forward, but he didn't react. His silence felt heavier than the chains.

"Let's go," I said softly, my voice barely audible over the sound of our footsteps echoing in the enclosed lot.

Luigi didn't respond, but he walked with me, steady and composed, as if every step was part of some unspoken routine. The officers ahead opened the doors, and the cold air of the courthouse hit us.

Whatever awaited him inside judge, jury, public opinion it was impossible to say. And as much as I tried to focus on my role, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd see any crack in that mask of his. Something to tell me what he was really thinking.

But for now, he stayed silent, and so did I.

As soon as we stepped inside, a wave of suited officers followed close behind. Their polished shoes clicked against the marble floors, their gazes heavy and scrutinizing. They didn't bother hiding the way they stared at Luigi, as if he were a specimen under a microscope.

At the entrance, the man who had mocked earlier broke away from the group and approached me. He was tall and broad, with slicked-back gray hair and a sharp suit that looked more like armor than clothing.

"Officer Vega," he said, extending a hand. His grip was firm, almost crushing. "Agent Richard Collins. I'll be overseeing Mr. Mangione's transfer to court today."

I nodded, letting go of his hand and glancing toward Luigi, who stood quietly by my side, his chains barely moving.

Agent Collins leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only me to hear. "Listen carefully. In a moment, you'll escort him to the designated office where his attorney is waiting. Whatever she says, your job is simple: do not lose sight of him. Not for a second. You're to remain in the room with him at all times. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.

Collins' gaze lingered on me for a beat too long, as if he were sizing me up. Then he gave a curt nod and stepped back, motioning toward the hallway ahead. "This way. Let's not keep anyone waiting."

I adjusted my grip on Luigi's arm, guiding him forward as we followed Collins and his entourage. Luigi's silence persisted, but there was something about the way he moved calm, composed that made me wonder if he was as unaffected as he seemed.

The tension in the air was suffocating, and as we walked deeper into the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel like all eyes were on us.

We stopped in front of the designated office, its frosted glass door bearing no indication of what, or who, was inside. Agent Collins nodded to me as if to silently repeat his warning: stay vigilant. I tightened my grip on Luigi's arm and opened the door.

Inside, a poised figure stood waiting Agnifilo, Luigi's attorney. She was a striking woman with sharp features, a neatly tailored suit, and a smile that seemed out of place in the somber atmosphere. Her eyes lit up when she saw Luigi.

"There you are," she said warmly, crossing the room in quick strides. She didn't hesitate, pulling Luigi into a brief but heartfelt embrace.

"You're holding up, aren't you?" she asked, stepping back to look him over. Her tone was soft, but there was an edge of determination in her voice.

Luigi nodded, his expression stoic but polite. "I'm here, aren't I?"

Agnifilo laughed lightly, the sound cutting through the tension. "That's my guy. Don't worry, Luigi, we're going to tear them apart today. Let's show them they can't pin this on you."

I watched the exchange from a step back, trying not to feel like an intruder in what was clearly a moment of trust between the two.

Agnifilo turned her attention to me then, her smile professional but no less sharp. "Officer Vega, right? I'll need you to remove the chains so Luigi can change. He can't walk into court like this."

I hesitated, glancing at Luigi and then at Collins, who had followed us inside and now stood leaning against the doorframe. He gave me a subtle nod, silently granting permission.

"Of course," I said, stepping forward. I crouched to unclip the restraints around Luigi's ankles first, the heavy chains falling to the floor with a metallic thud. Then I unlocked the cuffs binding his wrists and removed the chain that wrapped around his torso.

"Thank you," Agnifilo said, already pulling a neatly folded outfit from her bag. "We need you looking human today," she teased Luigi, holding up a deep red sweater, a crisp white shirt to wear underneath, and a pair of beige trousers.

Luigi raised an eyebrow at the sweater, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of amusement. "A little festive, isn't it?"

"It's called 'classic,'" Agnifilo countered, smirking as she handed him the clothes. "Trust me, it'll make a statement."

Luigi accepted the outfit without complaint but held up a hand. "Skip the shoes. The prison ones will do fine."

Agnifilo's expression faltered for just a second before she nodded. "Fair enough. They'll ask why you don't have proper ones, and it'll help prove a point."

Luigi didn't respond, turning toward the small changing area in the corner of the room. I stepped back, giving him space while keeping an eye on him.

"Take a seat, Officer Vega," Agnifilo said, gesturing to a chair across from her desk. "We won't be long. I'll brief him on what to expect while he changes."

I didn't move. "I'm required to stay with him," I replied evenly, locking eyes with her.

She tilted her head, studying me for a moment before shrugging. "Suit yourself. Just don't hover too close."

I nodded but remained standing near the door as Luigi disappeared behind the divider to change. Agnifilo turned her attention back to her notes, her focus razor-sharp.

I glanced at Collins, who still leaned casually against the wall, his expression unreadable.

As Luigi stepped out from behind the divider, my breath caught in my throat. The transformation was startling. Gone was the harsh, dehumanizing orange jumpsuit; in its place, the deep red sweater and crisp white shirt softened his appearance. The beige trousers fit him well, emphasizing his height and lean frame. He looked... different. More like the man I had heard about before all this, the well-educated, sociable, globe-trotting Luigi, and less like the inmate I'd grown used to seeing.

I caught myself staring, unable to tear my eyes away as he adjusted the sleeves of the sweater, his movements unhurried and deliberate.

"Not bad, huh?" Agnifilo teased, tilting her head as she studied him.

Luigi smirked, his charm effortless. "I'd say you have a decent eye for fashion. But don't let it go to your head."

Agnifilo chuckled, tapping her pen against the desk. "Oh, trust me, I'm taking all the credit for this. You just stand there and look like you have your life together."

Their banter was easy, natural, as if they'd known each other forever. I watched as Luigi's smile widened, a genuine one that lit up his features. It was nothing like the small, guarded smiles I'd occasionally caught during our interactions. This was... warm. Alive.

And then, as if sensing my gaze, he turned his head toward me, his eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, everything else in the room faded. His smile lingered, not fading but softening, as if acknowledging my stunned expression.

I didn't know how long I stood there, frozen, unable to process what was happening. My mind screamed at me to look away, but my body refused to obey.

Then, just as quickly as it had happened, the moment was over. Luigi broke eye contact, turning back to Agnifilo with a light laugh. They resumed their conversation, but I couldn't shake the feeling that he had noticed my reaction and enjoyed it.

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to refocus. Pull it together, I scolded myself silently.

The officer by the door grunted, jerking his head in my direction. "Get your ass up and lock him again. We're wasting time."

I nodded, already moving toward Luigi with the chains in hand. He held out his wrists without protest, his expression calm but unreadable. As I secured the restraints around his torso and arms, I couldn't ignore the warmth spreading through my chest. My thoughts betrayed me, spiraling back to that dream. The memory of his hands, his voice, the heat of it all

I muttered under my breath, barely audible.

But it wasn't quiet enough. Luigi's head tilted slightly, and I caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. His voice was low and teasing. "You said something, Officer Vega?"

My head snapped up, and I met his gaze, my cheeks threatening to betray me. His half-smile, sly and knowing, only deepened the pull in my stomach.

"Nope," I said briskly, tightening the last chain. "You're hearing things now, mangione?" I shot back, trying to regain control of the situation and my sanity.

His smile turned into a quiet laugh, but he didn't say anything else. I stepped back, making sure everything was secure, and turned toward Agnifilo as she stood to gather her files.

"Well, Luigi, I'll head to the courtroom to get everything in order. Good luck," she said, offering him a warm, confident smile. "I'll see you in there."

Luigi nodded, his demeanor shifting slightly, more serious now. "Thanks, Agnifilo. Let's make it count."

As she left the room, I didn't dare look at him again, afraid I'd find that same knowing smile waiting for me.

As we step into the courthouse hallway, the swarm of suited officers surrounds us again, forming a tight circle. Luigi and I are walking in the middle, and it feels like we're in the eye of a storm. Turning the corner, the noise hits us—shouts, camera flashes, and chaos.

"What the hell..." I mutter under my breath, more to myself than anyone else.

Luigi stiffens beside me. It's subtle, but I notice it: the slight tremor in his hands as he clenches them together to keep control. Still, his head remains high, his posture straight, like he's determined not to show them any weakness.

He glances at me, his voice calm but edged with frustration. "You see this circus? It's an insult..."

I meet his gaze, trying to find the right words, but all I manage is, " it's ridiculous "

His lips twitch into a faint, almost bitter smile before he turns his attention forward again. The camera flashes blind me momentarily, making my head pound, while reporters yell over each other, their questions a tangled mess of noise.

"Any comment, Luigi?"

"Luigi, do you deny the charges?"

The shouts grow louder as we press forward. I glance at him and catch the briefest flicker of emotion a look that says, I've got too much to say, but nobody wants to hear the truth. His jaw tightens.

This whole situation, the chaos, the accusations it's a puzzle I can't piece together. And the more I look at him, the more uncertain I feel. My mind swirls, but I push the thoughts aside as we keep moving, cameras flashing and voices chasing us like shadows.

As we step into the courtroom, the atmosphere shifts entirely. Rows upon rows of people are seated, all their eyes turning toward us as Luigi walks in beside me, still bound by the chains.

In front, I immediately spot Agnifilo, Luigi's attorney. She's standing confidently beside two other men in sharp suits, likely co-counsel assisting with his case. Their expressions are serious, focused, as they whisper among themselves and shuffle through stacks of papers on the desk.

My gaze drifts further ahead, to the judge sitting high on the bench, her face stern and commanding. And then I notice the cameras, positioned discreetly but unmistakably along the sides of the room.

"Wait... is this live?" I murmur to myself, the realization sinking in. The thought makes my stomach tighten. Every word spoken here, every look exchanged, will be broadcasted for everyone to see.

Luigi walks steadily beside me, his face unreadable. He doesn't seem fazed by the stares or the cameras. But then again, he's probably used to this by now.

We reach his seat, and I help him settle in, uncomfortably aware of how many people are watching.

As soon as Luigi is seated, Agnifilo steps closer, leaning slightly toward him. Her voice is low, her tone firm but calm.

"Stay quiet, stay focused," she murmurs. "This is just procedural. No surprises."

Luigi gives her a brief nod, his expression unreadable, then she turns to face the court.

The prosecutor, a well-dressed man with a measured demeanor, rises first. His voice carries authority as he addresses the judge and court.

"Your Honor, we are here today to set the groundwork for the trial of Luigi Mangione, a man accused of a very serious crime. The charges against him are severe, involving the murder of a high-profile CEO. We intend to show that this act was deliberate and premeditated—"

Agnifilo doesn't wait for him to finish before speaking, her tone polished but firm.

"Your Honor, while the prosecution paints this grand narrative, let's not forget this is a pre-hearing. We are not here to try my client or jump to conclusions. Mr. Mangione maintains his innocence, and it's the state's job to prove otherwise something they've failed to do up to this point."

The judge, sitting stoic and silent, motions for Agnifilo to proceed. She doesn't waste a second.

"My client has been treated like a pawn in this system. From the moment of his arrest, the media circus surrounding him has overshadowed the facts. This morning, Mr. Mangione was shackled and marched into this courthouse like a spectacle surrounded by police officers and paraded as if his guilt were already decided. How is that justice, Your Honor? How is that due process?"

The prosecutor responds evenly, his tone measured. "Ms. Agnifilo, the state has followed standard protocol for handling suspects of this nature. A high-profile case like this demands heightened security measures, not leniency."

Agnifilo counters swiftly, her voice unyielding but composed. "Heightened security is one thing. Treating a man like a convicted felon before a trial has even begun is another. My client has cooperated fully with the law, yet he's being subjected to dehumanizing treatment that jeopardizes his right to a fair trial."

Luigi sits quietly, his hands resting on the table. Though his face is calm, I notice a slight tension in his shoulders. For a moment, his gaze shifts to Agnifilo, and I can see a flicker of something there trust, perhaps, or silent gratitude.

The judge finally speaks, her voice cutting through the tension. "Ms. Agnifilo, Mr. Harding, I appreciate your points, but let's remain focused on the purpose of this hearing. We're here to discuss the charges, not conduct the trial itself. Please proceed with respect for the process."

Both attorneys nod, settling into a more procedural tone. Agnifilo adjusts her papers and continues, detailing Luigi's cooperation and the lack of solid evidence against him. Harding maintains his stance, reiterating the severity of the allegations.

As the back-and-forth continues, I can't help but glance at Luigi. He hasn't spoken a word, but the weight of this moment is clear in his stillness.

his hands resting on the table in front of him, the chains around his wrists faintly clinking when he adjusted his position. His profile was sharp, calm. My mind wandered, and a single thought slipped through

Is he really guilty of any of this?

As if he had heard my unspoken question, Luigi turned his head just slightly and caught my gaze. It was brief, no more than a second, but enough to make my heart skip. He turned back just as quickly, as if it hadn't happened.

the judge's voice broke through the silence of the courtroom, sharp and commanding. He turned his gaze directly toward Luigi, asking the question everyone had been waiting for.

"How do you wish to define yourself, Mr. Mangione? Guilty or not guilty?"

Luigi remained perfectly still, his expression unreadable. He didn't flinch or show any sign of uncertainty. I could feel the weight of the question pressing on him, but he didn't seem affected. Instead, he leaned forward, his eyes locked on the judge.

There was a brief pause, just long enough for the room to hold its collective breath.

And then, without hesitation, his voice rang out, calm and unwavering.

"Not guilty."