Blurb：
Evelyn Shaw faces her husband Damien Thorne in the Permanent Tribunal, accused of elder neglect against her grandparents. With her half-sister Serena Shaw gloating by Damien’s side, Evelyn defiantly demands the trial begin. As memory extraction technology reveals hidden truths about Grandma’s love and Grandpa’s bias, the courtroom and online viewers watch in shock. Will Evelyn reclaim what’s rightfully hers or face life imprisonment? A story of betrayal, family secrets, and ultimate vengeance unfolds in this high-stakes legal drama.
Content：
I was summoned to the Permanent Tribunal by the husband I’d loved for years. He was absolutely certain I wouldn’t dare to show up.
So when I took my place in the defendant’s seat, shock was written across their faces.
Everyone assumed I was there to accept my punishment.
What they didn’t know was that I had come to reclaim everything that was rightfully mine!
Before proceedings began, the judge solemnly inquired, “Plaintiff and Defendant, are you both fully aware of the consequences of this trial? Should the Plaintiff lose, all assets will be forfeited to the Defendant, and he will be sentencing to…”
The judge’s words were interrupted.
“Should the Defendant lose, she will be sentenced to life imprisonment without possibility of parole.”
My husband, Damien Thorne, glared at me, his eyes sharp, his expression filled with utter revulsion—as if he didn’t recognize the woman who’d shared his life for years.
Sitting beside him, brazenly clinging to his arm as if she were his lawful wife, was my half-sister, Serena Shaw.
She met my gaze with an expression of pure arrogant and challenge.
The judge turned to me. Before he could speak, I lifted my chin, my expression resolute, and declared clearly, “Let the trial begin!”
The gavel struck. Judgment had commenced.
Damien Thorne’s first charge against me was elder neglect—abandoning my grandparents and failing in my duty of care.
Court staff activated a projector, displaying the specific accusations for this charge on the large screen.
Simultaneously, another screen streamed live comments from tens of thousands of online viewers.
“Isn’t that Evelyn Shaw? My god, she’s actually on trial???”
“OMG, I was a die-hard fan of her and Damien Thorne back in the day!”
“Never judge by appearances. She looks so innocent, but she’s pure evil.”
Watching the scrolling comments, Serena Shaw’s lips curled into a smug smile as she tightened her grip on Damien’s arm.
I silently clenched my fists.
The formal accusations began playing on screen.
The figure appearing, white-haired and frail, was my grandfather.
His clouded eyes stared into the camera, tears rolling down his weathered cheeks, his voice ancient and heavy with grief.
“Evelyn, she was the one who loved you most! Your own grandmother!”
“How could you abandon her in that remote place? Leave her to die?”
“Where is your conscience? Where has it gone?”
The jury erupted in murmurs.
Damien Thorne clenched his fist on the table, his face etched with pain.
Serena gently stroked his arm, murmuring soft comforts.
When no one was looking, she quirked one corner of her lips, twisting the substantial diamond on her finger in a silent, gloating taunt aimed directly at me.
I responded with a cold laugh.
“She’s actually smiling? Pure evil.”
“Someone like that deserves the maximum sentence!”
“Life in prison? She should get the death penalty!”
As outraged comments flooded the screen, court officers brought forward a complex instrument, connecting it to my body.
It was the most advanced technology—capable of extracting a person’s memories, while simultaneously functioning as a lie detector.
However, the pain of extraction was said to be so unbearable that most chose to confess rather than endure it.
Serena and Damien clearly hadn’t anticipated the memory extraction request.
Serena’s face visibly paled, while Damien stared at me with undiminished hatred.
“Let’s see what tricks you’re trying to pull,” he spat.
The extraction began. Excruciating pain lanced through me, as if someone were being slowly carving out.
The extracted memories began playing on the large screen.
During the three years my mother was divorcing my father, we lived with my grandparents.
Grandpa, who favored boys over girls, didn’t approve of my mother, and by extension, didn’t care much for me.
But Grandma… Grandma adored me.
She had magic hands, able to create the most delicious meals from the simplest ingredients.
She was strong and healthy. In summer, she’d take me to the creek to catch minnows and crayfish.
She’d stroke my hair and say gently, “Evelyn is my precious moonbeam, my darling girl.”
I was thirteen then, old enough to understand adult conflicts. I knew every piece of meat Grandma slipped onto my plate came with Grandpa’s subsequent scolding.
I leaned against Grandma’s knee, tracing her hands—rough and calloused from a lifetime of labor—and swore, “Grandma, I promise I’ll give you a good life someday.”
Grandma smiled, her love evident. “Just knowing my Evelyn has that thought in her heart makes Grandma happy.”
The memories flashed quickly through these warm scenes.
I, who had been stoic until now, couldn’t control my emotions upon seeing Grandma’s face. Tears traced paths down my cheeks.
Damien Thorne seemed moved as well, a sheen of tears visible in his eyes. Grandma had been kind to him, loving him because she loved me.
Only Serena Shaw looked thunderous.
“Seriously? She betrayed such a wonderful grandma? Ungrateful wretch!”
“Never seen such a heartless granddaughter.”
The comments scrolled furiously.
I watched them all with cold indifference. The real truth was yet to be revealed.
The year I turned sixteen, my father came looking for my mother.
He arrived in a luxury car I couldn’t name, dressed impeccably, leading a little girl dressed like a princess into our humble yard.
And there I was, covered in dust, wearing one of my mother’s old dresses that Grandma altered. Standing opposite them, I felt completely out of place.
That girl was Serena Shaw.
My father and mother argued. My grandpa fawned over my father, serving tea and bowing obsequiously.
“In the old days, men had multiple wives! It was completely normal!”
“You should be grateful! Look at your husband—he only has one mistress! Far better than those with seven or eight!”
“Aren’t you my daughter? Then you should go back with your husband!”
My mother seemed numb. Hiding by the door, I saw her expression cold, as if watching a performance.
My father, looking heartbroken, declared he had already ended things with the other woman.
In the end, my mother went back with him.
Sitting in the luxurious car, I pressed against the window, watching Grandma standing at the gate, wiping her tears.
She stood there until the car turned the corner and disappeared from view.
Life in the mansion was nothing like the simple joy of Grandma’s little house.
But I endured it for years. After marrying Damien Thorne, I moved into our newlywed estate and brought Grandma to live with us.
By then, Grandma’s health wasn’t what it used to be.
But it was okay. I had money now. I could get her the best doctors and treatments.
What I hadn’t expected was Serena Shaw, using some method, convincing Damien to let her move in with us.
“She is your sister, Evelyn. She just returned to the country, everything’s unfamiliar. Your dad’s busy, your mom doesn’t want her around. You’re her only family.”
Those were Damien’s exact words.
Though I was furious, I swallowed my anger and chose to compromise. It was becoming a pattern.
I prepared the finest guest room for Serena—goose down comforters, plush wool rugs, an imported writing desk, carefully selected artwork.
She glanced around dismissively. During her tour of the estate, she paused outside the master bedroom—mine and Damien’s—and said with false sweetness, “I think this room is the best.”
My blood ran cold.
Our wedding portrait hung prominently inside. She knew exactly what she was doing.
Just then, Grandma appeared from down the hall. Pointing firmly at Serena, she declared, “You need to leave! This is Evelyn’s home!”
Serena jumped, clutching her chest dramatically. She looked at Grandma up and down with clear annoyance.
“Since when do the staff tell guests what to do?”
Grandma didn’t bother correcting her. Instead, she stepped forward and shoved Serena hard out the doorway.
“I said leave!”
I moved to Grandma’s side, my voice cold. “She’s not a servant. She’s my grandmother.”
Just then, Damien returned. Unaware of the situation, he stood at the top of the stairs, confused. “What’s going on?”
Serena instantly twisted around and threw herself into Damien’s arms. The look of disgust vanished, replaced by pitiful vulnerability.
“Damien, I’m so sorry! I mistook Grandma for a maid! Evelyn got so angry… she wants to kick me out…”
Damien’s face darkened. His gaze shifted to me, voice dropping to that dangerous tone I’d come to recognizes. “Evelyn Shaw. Must you be so cruel?”
I tried weakly to explain. “I didn’t—”
“Mrs. Chambers will handle Serena’s arrangements from noe on,” he cut me off. “You don’t need to concern yourself.”
Damien led a triumphant-looking Serena away. I collapsed onto the bed, tears falling uncontrollably.
Grandma gathered me in her arms. “My Evelyn deserves than this,” she murmured. “Cry, darling. Cry it out. Then we’ll make our own plans.”
It turned out, before marrying Grandpa, Grandma had bought a little cottage out in the country, intending it as a summer retreat.
But after giving birth to a daughter, her life became one long, dark struggle, and the cottage sat unused.
Huddled together, we made a promise—to each other and to ourselves.
We would claim our own freedom, answerable to no one.
But we had underestimated Serena’s determination to disrupt our lives.
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