Chapter 2

"Bran, just plead guilty. Your dad and I only want to keep you from going down the wrong path. You just have to spend ten years in prison, come out, and start over. We'll be waiting for you at home." Mom looked at me with feigned concern, like she was about to cry.

In my past life, I would've softened and listened to her. In fact, I did. Now, hearing the same words again only made me sick.

"Brandon, don't be stubborn. Mom and Dad treat you even better than they treat me. You just broke their hearts. Just admit it." Even Cody joined in. And just like that, they pushed me into a corner.

Our relatives started chiming in one after another.

"What's the point of raising a son like this? We all saw how your parents doted on you growing up, treating you like a fragile piece of glass. Now, you don't even know how to be grateful."

"Exactly. I thought Brandon would turn out more reliable than Cody. What a disappointment. It makes me think twice about having more than one child, especially giving all your love to the eldest."

One relative even hurled a shoe straight at my face, shrieking hysterically, "You ungrateful bastard! Treating your parents like this… aren't you afraid of karma? If your parents won't discipline you, I will!"

The shoe struck the side of my forehead with a thud. I slowly closed my eyes, ignoring them, then turned to Judge Caine. "I've made my decision. You may begin."

The moment I spoke, I caught the flicker of unease on my parents' and Cody's faces.

Mom dropped to her knees, pounding her chest as she wailed, "Heavens, what did I do to deserve this? The son I raised with such care is dragging us to court!"

I sneered inwardly. Weren't they the ones who brought me here? If I obediently pleaded guilty and refused memory extraction, would that make me a filial son?

I'd already been a fool once. I wasn't about to repeat it in this life. Whatever debt I owed them had long been repaid. What I got in return was never gratitude or mercy, only calculation.

Judge Caine struck the gavel. "Order!"

Mom tried to keep making a scene, but the bailiffs held her back.

"We will now proceed with the judgment. The charges brought by the plaintiff will be examined one by one through memory extraction. I will determine judgment accordingly. Anyone who objects may submit an appeal."

With a sharp click, metal restraints rose around my seat. High-voltage currents ran through them.

Memory extraction was an agonizing process. Both body and mind were pushed to the brink. The moment the extraction device touched my head, it felt like my whole body was hit by a surge of electricity. The extreme pain caused me to break out in cold sweat.

Even so, I didn't hesitate.

Compared to my last life—coughing every day in that prison cell, my lungs rattling like broken bellows, and the pain so intense in the later stages that I would pass out—this was nothing.

Perhaps fueled by endless hatred, I clenched my teeth. I was already drenched in sweat.

The broadcast went live on the giant screen. Within seconds, millions of viewers flooded in. I knew they were all waiting to tear me apart. But that was exactly what I wanted.

Without an audience, how could I expose my family's hypocrisy?

They wouldn't get away with it this time.