How Does The Trial Novel Compare To Its Movie Adaptation?

Nathan Morrison is a hero who emerged victorious from a bloodbath and a general loved by the whole country. Suzanne York is a terrible woman with a horrible reputation who's undeserving of him, yet she ends up as his wife.There's another problem—some other woman holds Nathan's heart. He doesn't love Suzanne.She doesn't want to struggle and be tormented in a loveless marriage, so she throws him a divorce agreement. "Let's get divorced."Nathan can't be bothered. "I'm too busy for that."Suzanne leaves without another look back. When she appears in public again, she's now a genius scientist, philanthropic artist, and the daughter of the wealthiest man alive.She stuns the world with her identities, but Nathan remains scornful … until one day when a considerable conspiracy is unveiled."General Morrison, the woman you've loved for years is your ex-wife. You've had the wrong person this whole time!"Nathan's eyes turn red with insanity. When he finally tracks her down, almost half out of his mind, he claims, "You're the one I've always loved, my dear. Let's remarry!"

After my best friend Lily Warren was assaulted, she took her own life. I was the only person who knew who had done it. And I was the one who helped cover for him. When Lily's mother knelt at my feet, begging me to tell the truth, I turned away with a cold face. When the people in town called me heartless and smashed my door, I let my dog, Buddy, attack them without hesitation. Ten years later, I was dying. My long-lost best friend, Claire Sutton, returned as the wealthiest woman in the country. The first thing she did was drag me onto the memory-trial platform normally reserved for death-row prisoners. "Rachel Vale, you disgusting animal. You protected a rapist. Lily and I were blind to ever call you our friend! "Lily has been dead for ten years, and you let her attacker walk free for ten years! "Today, I'm going to use the memory extractor I developed to see exactly who you've been protecting!" But when the real culprit appeared before everyone, Claire Sutton collapsed on the spot. She could barely stay on her knees.

Led by my ex-boyfriend, the police raid the base of the major crime syndicate. The antagonist takes his own life, and the only person who could prove my identity as a top-secret undercover operative died two weeks ago. My ex-boyfriend drags me into court. He wants my memories extracted so I can face public judgment and sentencing. Nevertheless, I have no intention of explaining myself. "I plead guilty. Grant me a swift death." The masses are outraged, despising me with every fiber of their being. "Ha! You despicable traitor! You monster! You're a rat who exposes undercover journalists, yet you dare ask for a swift death? "This is the world of a novel. The maximum penalty for a guilty plea is euthanasia, but if judgment is passed by the court, you will suffer endless torment until your last breath!" "You don't deserve euthanasia. You belong in hell!" Rotten eggs and stones pelt me mercilessly. Even with my face now covered in blood, I make no effort to avoid the assaults. I only longed for death. My ex-boyfriend glares at me coldly. "You betrayed me. What right do you have to ask for a swift death? Your memories must be extracted and judged in court. Death will come only after your torment!" They are the ones who demand my memories be extracted and judged, yet after seeing them, why are they also the ones who go mad with regret?

My grandfather, Tanner Kane, valued loyalty above all else. When his adopted daughter, Alanna Meyer, was sentenced to death for murder, he sent my mother, Florence Kane, to her death. All to preserve the bloodline of his late childhood friend. Alanna took my mother's name, married, and lived a privileged life free from hardship. Meanwhile, my mother died carrying a crime she never committed. My father, Graham Hart, and I changed our names and wandered from place to place. For years, I was mocked as a motherless child. Forty years later, after enduring humiliation and dedicating myself to my studies, I became a judge in Arbor Falls. Today, I am presiding over a controversial campus murder case in which the victim fell to her death from a building. There were no surveillance cameras. Only two girls were present, and each insists the other is the killer. One of them, Nova, comes from a poor family. Her parents are divorced, and she associates with local delinquents. She is known throughout the school as a feared bully. The other one, Scarlett, comes from a wealthy family. Her parents have a loving marriage, and she excels academically. Her grandmother is a beautiful and kind-hearted artist. Her great-grandfather spent his entire life doing charity work and was recognized as a nationally renowned philanthropist. Everyone believes she is a good girl who would never lie, so Nova the bully must be the killer. However, when I looked at the name listed under Scarlett's grandmother, I saw my mother's name: Florence Kane. Without a second thought, I turned to the person beside me and said, "Reject her request for acquittal."

An overpass in Winfeld that's still under construction ends up collapsing, leading to the deaths of many. Family members of the victims are up in arms, demanding that the person in charge pay the price for the incident. As the quality assurance inspector, I'm brought to court. However, I am just an intern. The real perpetrators are out clinking glasses, celebrating a clean getaway and the fact that they have a new scapegoat. Out of nowhere, the court introduces a new trial system that involves the extraction of memories directly from one's mind. In the middle of this major incident, a terrifying truth emerges. Everything goes all the way back to my university days…

I watched my own pup be brutally slaughtered with my own eyes, yet I protected the killer for seven years. The Elders begged me to name the killer, but I simply yawned and went to sleep. The pack cornered me in the courtyard, accusing me of being a heartless traitor, so I picked up a silver dagger and threatened them all. My Alpha mate, however, never broke our mating bond. This man who had once held me in the highest regard had bound me in our home's dungeon with a silver chain. Defying the pack's opposition, he insisted on keeping my Luna title, yet he came to interrogate me every single day. Until, seven years later, when a witch claiming she could extract memories arrived at the pack, he sent me to the memory trial altar. But after seeing the killer in my memories, everyone was left in absolute shock. My mate, especially, could barely even stay on his knees.