Chapter 2

Before the holographic screens lit up, Arthur submitted several surveillance clips to the court.

In the footage, I was huddled in a dim corner, violently convulsing and clawing at my own skin, letting out guttural, animalistic shrieks.

My arms were heavily mottled with dense needle tracks and severe bruising—a ghastly sight.

A collective gasp instantly echoed from the jury box.

The live comments boiled over again:

"Look at all those needle tracks! How do you even wash that clean? Absolute proof she's a junkie!"

"Just rip her kidney out for the sister already. Keeping a piece of trash like her alive is a waste of oxygen."

The holographic projection began to play the memories extracted directly from my brain.

In the projection, I was wearing a neat, clean school uniform, chewing on the end of a pen, completely engrossed in solving a complex calculus problem. My eyes were bright, brimming with hope for the future.

"Is this Fallon from three years ago?" a juror muttered in confusion. "She looks like a straight-A student."

Just then, the study door was gently pushed open.

On the hologram, Camilla walked in, carrying a glass of milk.

"Sister, you've been studying for five hours. Take a break," Camilla's voice was sweet, her eyes full of concern.

I looked up at her, offering a completely defenseless smile. "Thank you, Camilla."

I took the glass and drank it all in one gulp.

However, mere minutes after I downed the milk, the point-of-view in the projection began to shake violently.

The holographic system perfectly replicated my sensory experiences. Everyone in the courtroom, and even the viewers behind their screens, could physically feel exactly what I was feeling at that moment through the neural-sync system.

An overwhelming wave of severe vertigo struck like a sledgehammer, accompanied by a racing heartbeat and hyperventilation.

The colors in the room warped and twisted. The letters on the textbook morphed into writhing maggots.

My throat burned like fire. Losing all motor control, I tumbled from the chair and crashed heavily onto the carpet.

"Help... help me..." I spasmed in agony, reaching out to grab the table leg, but couldn't muster a single ounce of strength.

Through my blurred and distorted vision, Camilla crouched down. Her face now appeared grotesquely twisted and sinister.

"Oh, Fallon. Who do you think you are? As long as you're around, Mom and Dad will always give you half their attention. Why do you get to be smarter than me? Why do you get to go to the Ivy League?"

She pulled a small, transparent glass vial from her pocket.

"Do you know what this is? Just a few drops are enough to completely fry a person's nervous system." Camilla smirked, shaking the vial right in front of my eyes. "I've been spiking your food with it for a whole month. Sister, didn't you want to get into Harvard? Let's see an addict try to pull that off."

The live comments erupted like an active volcano, frantically flooding the screen:

"WTF?! What did I just watch?!"

"The sister poisoned her?!"

"That's pure psycho!"

"Huge twist! The older sister never did drugs; she was poisoned by this two-faced bitch!"

Over at the plaintiff's table, Camilla's face instantly drained of all color.

But the memory projection didn't stop there.

The commotion in the study had alerted my parents downstairs. Arthur and Eleanor rushed in.

Seeing me thrashing on the floor, Eleanor let out a piercing scream. "Fallon! What's wrong with you?!"

Arthur shoved Camilla aside, roaring, "What happened?!"

Camilla instantly slipped on a mask of sheer terror. Tears streamed down her face. "I don't know... Sister just suddenly collapsed, and on her desk... there's this..."

She pointed to the corner of my desk drawer, where a small baggie of white powder had inexplicably appeared.

Arthur's face turned livid.

He looked at me agonizing on the floor, then at the bag of powder, his teeth grinding in fury. "This wretched girl! She actually dared to touch this garbage!"

"Dad, call an ambulance! Sister is dying!" Camilla cried out.

Arthur pulled out his phone, but suddenly froze.

He looked at Eleanor, his eyes darting frantically. "No. We can't call an ambulance. If the hospital finds narcotics in her system and calls the cops, our family's reputation will be ruined!"

Panic washed over Eleanor as the realization hit her. "You're right... tomorrow is Camilla's coming-of-age gala. The mayor and several major investors will be there. If word gets out that our biological daughter is a junkie, Camilla's big night will be ruined!"

"Then what do we do?"

Arthur stared down at me—foaming at the mouth and clinging to life—and made a chilling decision. "Lock her in the basement. Wait until the gala is over tomorrow, then we'll find a private doctor to handle it quietly."

"But she looks like she's in so much pain..." Eleanor hesitated.

"She brought this on herself!" Arthur spat furiously. "No one forced her to sink this low!"

And with that, the memory abruptly cut to black.

"No... it wasn't like that..." Arthur stumbled to his feet in a panic, cold sweat pouring down his forehead. "This memory is forged! The machine is malfunctioning! She is a junkie, that bag of drugs was hers!"

"Order in the court!" The judge banged his gavel heavily.

The comment section had lost its absolute mind:

"Animals! These are her actual parents?! They left their daughter to die just for the sake of their reputation?!"

"The adopted sister is the real culprit! She poisoned her, planted the evidence, and then played the victim!"

"Locking their own flesh and blood in a basement just so they could throw a party for the adopted kid? My mind is blown."

"Not guilty! The sister is absolutely innocent!"

Arthur's face was the color of ash.

But quickly, he clamped his jaw shut and snapped his head up.

"Your Honor! Even if she didn't willingly take drugs back then, her subsequent actions are absolutely unforgivable! I move to initiate the second count of the indictment! She is a pathological thief and a violent sociopath! She tried to steal her own sister's life-saving medical funds and flee! A person with such utterly corrupted morals still meets the criteria for organ expropriation!"