Chapter 12
Sentencing day arrived under gray skies.
The courtroom was packed. Cameras lined the hallway outside. Margot sat three rows behind me. When I glanced back, she gave me a small, steady nod.
*We survived this. Together.*
Roman was brought in looking immaculate. He'd somehow maintained his polish — pressed suit, clean shave, those devastating blue eyes sweeping the room. He looked like a CEO entering a board meeting, not a convicted organ trafficker facing life in prison.
When it was time for my victim impact statement, I stood on legs that wanted to buckle, walked to the podium, and faced the man who'd married me to harvest me.
"Three years ago," I began, "I fell in love with a man who brought me flowers and made me breakfast and told me I was the most important person in his world. I believed him completely."
My voice didn't shake. I wouldn't let it.
"In those three years, Roman Hale removed my kidney without my consent. He extracted my bone marrow six times. He took my blood fourteen times. He sedated me, cut me open, and stole pieces of my body while I slept beside him, trusting him completely.
"He made me smoothies every morning to keep my nutrient levels high enough for the next harvest. He told me he loved me every night to keep me compliant. Every kiss, every touch, every tender word was livestock management.
"He was going to kill me on a Thursday. He was going to put me to sleep and take my bone marrow one final time — a dose he knew would be fatal — and then have me cremated before anyone could examine my body.
"I am alive today because I found his files four days before he planned to murder me."
I looked directly at Roman. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"I will live with what he did to me forever. I have one kidney. My bone marrow is permanently damaged. I may develop aplastic anemia at any time. He took years off my life, and he did it while telling me he loved me.
"I am asking for the maximum sentence. Not for revenge. But because a man who did this to two women will do it again to a third if he ever walks free."
I sat down. The courtroom was utterly silent.
Then the judge turned to Roman. "Mr. Hale, do you wish to make a statement?"
Roman stood slowly. He buttoned his jacket — an old habit, automatic. Then he looked at me.
"Camille," he said. "I want you to know — I'm sorry it had to be you. You were kind. You didn't deserve what happened." A pause. "But I'd do it again. For Elise. I'd do all of it again."
No remorse. No regret for the act — only for the inconvenience of getting caught.
Sandra asked for life without parole. Roman's team argued for forty years with the possibility of parole.
The judge deliberated for less than a minute.
"Life without the possibility of parole."
Roman's expression finally changed. Just a flash — rage, pure and incandescent — before the mask slammed back down.
As they led him away in handcuffs, he looked at me one final time.
This time, he didn't smile.
The courtroom was packed. Cameras lined the hallway outside. Margot sat three rows behind me. When I glanced back, she gave me a small, steady nod.
*We survived this. Together.*
Roman was brought in looking immaculate. He'd somehow maintained his polish — pressed suit, clean shave, those devastating blue eyes sweeping the room. He looked like a CEO entering a board meeting, not a convicted organ trafficker facing life in prison.
When it was time for my victim impact statement, I stood on legs that wanted to buckle, walked to the podium, and faced the man who'd married me to harvest me.
"Three years ago," I began, "I fell in love with a man who brought me flowers and made me breakfast and told me I was the most important person in his world. I believed him completely."
My voice didn't shake. I wouldn't let it.
"In those three years, Roman Hale removed my kidney without my consent. He extracted my bone marrow six times. He took my blood fourteen times. He sedated me, cut me open, and stole pieces of my body while I slept beside him, trusting him completely.
"He made me smoothies every morning to keep my nutrient levels high enough for the next harvest. He told me he loved me every night to keep me compliant. Every kiss, every touch, every tender word was livestock management.
"He was going to kill me on a Thursday. He was going to put me to sleep and take my bone marrow one final time — a dose he knew would be fatal — and then have me cremated before anyone could examine my body.
"I am alive today because I found his files four days before he planned to murder me."
I looked directly at Roman. He was watching me with an expression I couldn't read.
"I will live with what he did to me forever. I have one kidney. My bone marrow is permanently damaged. I may develop aplastic anemia at any time. He took years off my life, and he did it while telling me he loved me.
"I am asking for the maximum sentence. Not for revenge. But because a man who did this to two women will do it again to a third if he ever walks free."
I sat down. The courtroom was utterly silent.
Then the judge turned to Roman. "Mr. Hale, do you wish to make a statement?"
Roman stood slowly. He buttoned his jacket — an old habit, automatic. Then he looked at me.
"Camille," he said. "I want you to know — I'm sorry it had to be you. You were kind. You didn't deserve what happened." A pause. "But I'd do it again. For Elise. I'd do all of it again."
No remorse. No regret for the act — only for the inconvenience of getting caught.
Sandra asked for life without parole. Roman's team argued for forty years with the possibility of parole.
The judge deliberated for less than a minute.
"Life without the possibility of parole."
Roman's expression finally changed. Just a flash — rage, pure and incandescent — before the mask slammed back down.
As they led him away in handcuffs, he looked at me one final time.
This time, he didn't smile.