"Did you see who it is?"
"No. But courthouse staff said it's a woman. That's all I know."
A woman.
My stomach dropped. I looked at Cesare, saw the same realization in his eyes.
Rosa.
This morning, he'd told me about seeing her at Pier 76. About his suspicions that she might be FBI, might be the corrupted agent Viktor was using.
And now Viktor's surprise witness was a woman.
"Rosa Vasquez," Cesare said quietly to Agent Muñoz. "Piero's assistant. Have you seen her this morning?"
Agent Muñoz frowned. "Rosa Vasquez? Why would—"
"Just answer the question. Have you seen her?"
"I... no. But I haven't been looking for her specifically." Muñoz pulled out her phone. "Give me a second."
She made a call, spoke briefly, then hung up with a grim expression.
"Rosa Vasquez checked in through the south entrance forty minutes ago. She's inside the building."
The confirmation hit like a physical blow.
Cesare's phone buzzed. He checked it, jaw tightening. "Giulio says his surveillance team lost her this morning. She left her apartment at 5 AM—earlier than expected. Took side streets, changed cars twice. Professional counter-surveillance techniques."
"She knew you'd be watching," Muñoz said.
"She's been doing this for years. Of course she knew." Cesare's voice was tight with controlled anger. "She played us all. Right up until this moment."
Twenty years. Rosa had been with the Monti family for twenty years. And she was about to betray them in open court.
"It's her," I whispered. "The surprise witness. It's Rosa."
"If she's testifying, if she has evidence of FBI misconduct—this is bad. Very bad," Muñoz said. "The hearing is in Courtroom 4, Judge Marilyn Becker presiding. She's tough but fair. If the evidence is real, she'll have no choice but to dismiss."
"And if it's fabricated?"
"Then Viktor stays locked up and we proceed to trial." Agent Muñoz hesitated. "But Mr. Monti—Viktor's lawyers wouldn't bring a witness without vetting them thoroughly. Whatever evidence they have, it's probably legitimate."
That was what I was afraid of.
Courtroom 4 was smaller than I'd expected—wood panelling, benches for spectators, the judge's bench elevated and imposing. Viktor was already there at the defense table, dressed in an orange jumpsuit, hands cuffed.
He looked thinner than the last time I'd seen him, pale from days in holding, but his eyes were sharp and calculating.
When Cesare and I entered, Viktor's gaze locked onto us.
He smiled. Cold. Predatory. Confident.
My skin crawled. That smile said he'd already won.
We sat in the front row of the spectator section—close enough to hear everything, far enough to not be directly involved. The courtroom filled with lawyers, FBI agents, and courthouse staff.
Agent Muñoz sat at the prosecution table with a woman in her forties—sharp suit, pulled-back hair, the focused intensity of a federal prosecutor. Assistant U.S. Attorney Sarah Hayes, I'd learned from our prep sessions. She'd be arguing the government's case.
