Chapter 2

My colleague, Zach Curtis, let out a sigh before offering a carefully worded warning.

"Judge Hart, you probably don't know what kind of family Scarlett comes from.

"Her great-grandfather spent his entire life doing charity work. He was featured on Time's magazine, and the respect he's earned would be carried through multiple generations.

"Her grandmother is beautiful, kind, and a true artist. She's gracious and refined, never makes enemies, but she's no pushover either.

"And her mother is a well-known entrepreneur with an impressive fortune and extensive connections in both business and politics.

"If you let your personal bias cloud your judgment and make the wrong decision, you'll hurt not just one child, but an entire family known for its integrity and sterling reputation.

"You should think this through carefully. Don't provoke public outrage."

I lowered my gaze to the photographs in the case file.

Every member of the family looked remarkably well-preserved, dressed in stylish clothes that made them seem decades younger than their actual ages.

Especially Scarlett's grandmother, the woman who had stolen my mother's identity. Though she was clearly at least sixty years old, her hair remained thick, glossy, and jet-black. Her face looked closer to forty than sixty, and she still carried herself with effortless elegance.

My mother, on the other hand, had gone completely white-haired the night before her execution.

She had been in the prime of her life, yet grief had carved deep lines across her face.

The public mocked her relentlessly. They claimed she had turned white from fear after realizing she was about to die. They hurled every cruel insult imaginable at her.

But only my father and I knew the truth.

My mother wasn't afraid. She was devastated that her own father had chosen to send his biological daughter to her execution in order to save an adopted daughter who shared none of his blood.

Even until her final breath, she never understood why.

I'd spent forty years trying to understand it myself, and I still couldn't.

But that no longer mattered.

Clearing my mother's name and bringing the guilty to justice mattered.

I'd waited forty years for that day, and at long last, it had arrived.

I closed the file. Around me, my colleagues continued praising the family, insisting they all looked like inherently good people.

I let out a cold laugh. "All I see are faces hiding behind a mask of virtue."

The room instantly fell silent.

Zach looked at me with obvious frustration. "Judge Hart, stop being so stubborn. Scarlett's family isn't one you can afford to offend.

"If she's guilty, that's one thing. But if she's innocent, can you really bear the consequences of being condemned by the entire country?"

I rose to my feet and met his gaze. "As a judge, my job is to weigh evidence, not family backgrounds.

"If anyone disagrees with my ruling, they're welcome to file a formal complaint with the appropriate oversight authorities after the case is concluded.

"But at this moment, I will not approve her acquittal."

My words rang through the room, leaving no room for further argument.

That evening, I returned home.

As soon as I reached my apartment building, I spotted a luxury car parked out front.

After the driver got out, he humbly opened the door, and two elegantly dressed women appeared before me. They were Scarlett's grandmother and her mother, Vanessa.

The woman, who called herself Florence Kane, approached me with a warm smile, dressed in a simple silk shift.

"Good evening, Judge Hart. My name is Florence Kane. I'm Scarlett's grandmother."

No.

That wasn't her name.

Florence Kane was my mother's name.

This woman was nothing more than the orphaned daughter of Grandpa's late childhood friend, Victor Meyer.

Grandpa had always valued loyalty above everything else. If Victor needed help, Grandpa would hand over the family's last scrap of food without hesitation.

How could Grandpa possibly turn his back on the poor orphan Victor had left behind?