GOLDWING (ing version)

chapter 55.5

Palace of Justice, Paris.

12 December.

DAMIANO'S POV

Angel was the one thing all the newspapers knew how to talk about. Seeing that subject transfer from my memory to the incisors of people I didn't even know was something that was going to happen no matter what the conditions, and I knew that, or thought I knew that. Because at the end of it all, something unpleasant crept into me when I saw the amount of clarification we were being asked to give on something that was nobody's business but our own. Yet at the same time, as Benjamin Franklin once said, justice will not be served until those who were not affected are as outraged as those who were. So visualising the case being titled "The Crime that Shocked France" took the matter to the heart of public opinion, which if I hated before, at that stage was the greatest ally of all the victims. The French usually specialise in making the best protests, full of intensity and determination, and this time was no different.

However, between finding dates that coincided with the judge's availability, collecting as many witnesses as possible, and dealing with all the formalities and complications of the process, I was back in court 11 years after the last time I was there. Now, with an almost doubled number of witnesses, the corridors outside the space were full of individuals I didn't know mixed with faces I had met too many times in recent times, not counting the witnesses from 'our' side, which were my father-in-law, Nica, Jacopo, my parents, Leo and Ethan, the only ones who managed to visit Angel on time. The facial expressions of many of them had aged, as had mine. As time went on and people came inside, I felt more and more alone, and that bittersweet feeling of nervousness rose in the current of the liquid that makes my heart beat faster, the same feeling I had felt the last time I left a place like that. But, Damiano, do you realise how much we have fought to be here? How many hours we took out of our lives to do our best in the name of our justice? Also, why our relationship came back, what brought us together? Those were not my words, but those of this blonde woman who lives in my thoughts every second of a minute and every minute of an hour and every hour of a day in a way that is so present it doesn't even seem like I'm far from her.

When they called my name, my body had a completely different reaction than I expected. Because although my psychological was unstable, my physical was more than ready to give everything it could do in its reach.I walked up that aisle, looked at my surroundings, and the countless LED lights all seemed focused on me. And soon the usual questions began.

"At any time did you suspect unethical practices on the part of the accused?"

"Do you confirm that you had just arrived at the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit of the Maternity Hospital in question when your daughter died?"

"It was reported that you had a panic attack in the middle of the entrance corridors of the Care Unit in question. Can you confirm that the person who assisted you was Ms Dr Alessandra Chastain, the paediatrician in charge of the alleged victim Angelina Grace?"

Those were three of many. I felt under immense pressure, because I felt like everyone present was watching every moment I decided to do it, waiting for something brilliant to come out of my mouth. But that soon ended, and then I was told to sit down in the audience.

"We will now move on to hear the witness Victoria de Angelis, mother of Angelina Grace de Angelis David," the judge said. Then my eyes lit up.

Everyone expected her to walk through that door. But she appeared right there in front of everyone, projected on a screen. Despite being in an almost empty room, her presence seemed so alive. And I seemed to sense her nervousness even though I was so far away from her.