The courtroom is ruined, its benches cracked, the judge’s seat burned black as though justice itself was set on fire. Bella’s crimson heels click against the marble, smoke trailing behind her with every step. She moves like she owns the silence, platinum hair gleaming in the dark.
She pauses at the charred judge’s desk, leans against it with practiced grace, and exhales a slow curl of smoke.
“Order? Justice? Fairness? Lies this City tells to keep fools quiet.”
Her crimson nails tap the desk, once, twice, like a gavel.
“At De Vil Academy, we do not whisper about justice — we enforce it. My mother, Cruella, is Headmistress. I am her shadow, her flame, her heir. No drugs. No excuses. Only rules — sharp, merciless, absolute.”
Bella tilts her head, a smile slicing across her face.
“The students think they can play rebel. They think they can bend the rules. But I am the verdict, and darling…”
She flicks ash onto the broken floor, her glowing red eyes cutting through the darkness.
“…I never acquit.”