After my boyfriend's younger sister was raped and took her own life, I learned the truth. But instead of speaking out, I stayed silent.

His parents were on their knees, pleading with me and begging me to speak up.

But I refused. Coldly. Without hesitation.

When reporters showed up at my door, I chased them away, brandishing a kitchen knife.

And yet, despite everything, my boyfriend, Zachary Mitchell, didn’t leave me.

Even though his family was furious, even though they pleaded with him to abandon me, he still chose to marry me.

After the wedding, everything changed.

He began his revenge.

Day after day, he tortured me, bringing others into our home, forcing me to experience the same horrors his sister had endured.

——

Six years later, my body had reached its breaking point.

Using his family’s vast fortune, Zachary subjected me to a memory trial.

“Joanne, you’re not even human!” someone shouted. “Zoey treated you so well, and you did this to her!”

I lay in the hospital bed, struggling to breathe, relying on the machine to help me.

My body was too heavy, too broken, to fight back.

“Stop pretending to be pitiful!” another voice accused. “You protected the murderer! Everything that’s happening to you now, you deserve it!”

I felt the cold metal of the memory-extracting machine being connected to my body.

With the last of my strength, I turned my head to look at Zachary.

Tears welled in my eyes, and I weakly shook my head.

Zachary sneered at me. “Don’t bother struggling. Now you regret it? Too late. Do you even understand how much Zoey suffered back then? Why didn’t you speak up? You deserve to die.”

He looked at me as though I were nothing but dirt. “They say this memory extractor causes pain equal to being electrocuted to death. Let’s see how it feels, shall we?”

The trial took place in Springfield’s largest hall, a massive venue packed with twenty thousand people and broadcast live nationwide.

Zoey’s case had shocked the entire country.

The police had taken it seriously, but since I refused to speak, the case went cold and was eventually ruled a suicide.

Zachary’s parents were there, too.

They had once disowned him for marrying me, but when they learned he was doing all this for their dead daughter, their anger shifted to grief.

Zachary’s mother, Aunt Mary, pointed at me and screamed, “You vile woman! A cursed witch! All these years, and you still refuse to tell us who the monster was! Did you feed your conscience to the dogs?”

Her husband, Uncle John Mitchell, held her trembling hand.

They had aged so quickly, grief hollowing them out.

Although Zoey had been adopted, they had raised her as their own flesh and blood.

I had met Zachary in high school. We were young, in love, and inseparable.

Meanwhile, his sister Zoey was still in middle school then. She’d follow me around, calling me 'sis' in that sweet, playful way.

Zachary would laugh and let her be.

Now, as I sat in that hall, the audience below was filled with righteous fury.

Someone hurled an egg at me. It struck my forehead, splattering warm, stinking yolk across my face.

Security rushed to calm the crowd so the “trial” could continue.

The machine powered on.

Thousands of fine needles pierced my scalp and skin.

My pupils dilated as broken sounds escaped my throat. The pain tore through me, shattering what little strength I had left.

Zachary stood by, smirking, watching my suffering with not a hint of mercy.

When the doctor saw that I might faint, he quickly prepared a sedative to ease the pain. But Zachary grabbed the syringe from his hands and replaced it with a stimulant.

“This could kill her,” the doctor warned softly. “She might not survive the session—”

“Use it,” Zachary cut him off coldly.

The drug entered my veins.

My body convulsed, trembling.

The pain dulled just enough for me to remain conscious.

Memories flooded my mind as the audience below echoed curses and jeers.

On the giant screen, my memories started to play.

The first image that appeared was Zachary, sitting alone in front of a funeral altar, his back turned toward me.

This was Zoey’s funeral hall.

The room was covered in white curtains, and in the middle was Zoey’s photo—her bright smile frozen against a black-and-white backdrop that felt unsettling, as if even in that smile, something was terribly wrong.

A few lilies lay in the coffin, encircled by a ring of daisies, her favorite flowers.

In the photo, Zachary looked noticeably thinner, a shadow of his former self. His body seemed so fragile that it might break with the slightest touch.

Everything was shown from my point of view.

I stepped forward, wanting to comfort him, reaching out to place my hand on his shoulder. But before I could touch him, he violently threw me off.

The words I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. I didn’t know how to start or how to explain everything that had happened.

Zachary suddenly turned, grabbed my hair, and yanked me toward Zoey’s coffin.

“You’re hurting me, Zach,” I gasped.

I clutched at his hand, desperately trying to break free, kicking my legs with all the strength I had left. But Zachary didn’t even flinch.

With one swift motion, he hurled me in front of the coffin.

My forehead slammed against its edge, and warm blood began to seep out.

“How dare you come to Zoey’s funeral?” he roared. “What face do you have to stand here in front of her?! When the police questioned you, why didn’t you speak up? The surveillance footage clearly shows your back! Who are you protecting?”

I trembled, staring at him, but no words came out.

The scene began to blur, and the crowd watching grew more agitated.

“She’s just pretending! She wants us to see her suffer at Zachary’s hands so we’ll pity her—ugh! What a scheming bitch!”

“She deserves to die!”

Their insults echoed as the scene shifted again.

Now, it was our wedding day.

When Zachary and I announced our marriage, it sparked a big controversy in Springfield. Those who had once been close to Zoey turned against him, accusing him of betraying her memory and marrying someone like me—a woman they considered toxic.

On the day of the wedding, the car was vandalized.

A group of masked people, rallying in Zoey’s name, had organized the destruction.

Fortunately, nothing worse happened, and the ceremony went on without further incident.

I was happy that day.

Looking back, I realized how foolish I had been and how naive I was to believe Zachary’s words.

The wedding wasn’t extravagant; most guests were his subordinates, attending only because of his pressure.

Still, I felt happy that day, even though I never fully understood why.

On the big screen, a single tear slid down and fell onto our wedding rings.

When I looked up, Zachary was smiling gently at me.

There was no formal officiant, no extravagant ceremony—just a simple exchange. But for me, it was enough. I knew he didn’t want to spend his life with me or grow old together. Still, I held on to the illusion.

Then, the scene cut abruptly.

I was now in our basement, with my wrists tightly shackled to the cold floor.

Zachary sat beside me. The tenderness in his eyes was gone, replaced by an icy, merciless resolve.

“What are you hiding?” he demanded.

I closed my eyes, tears sliding silently down my face, unable to answer.

“If you won’t talk,” he said, his voice sharp and cold as a blade, “then I’ll make you understand real pain.”

He lit a cigarette, took a drag, and then pressed the burning tip against my skin.

A scream tore from my throat as the stench of burning flesh filled the air.

Dizziness washed over me. I didn’t know if it was the pain or the exhaustion overtaking me, but I felt the heat of the cigarette again.

My mouth opened, yet no sound escaped.

The audience’s words were filthy, cruel, and venomous, but they were nothing compared to what I had already gone through. Their cruelty no longer had the power to hurt me.

Maybe death would be a kind of release.

I bit down hard on my tongue, the metallic taste of blood spreading through my mouth.

"Something’s wrong... she's trying to commit suicide!" the doctor shouted.

Zachary sat beside me, his grip tightening around my neck as he forced my mouth open.

Blood surged out, choking me as I gasped for air.

“So this is how far you’ll go to protect him?”

Zachary’s eyes were bloodshot, his teeth grinding in fury.

The doctor hurried over, attempting to tend to my wound, but the struggle had already sapped most of my strength. I could do nothing but lie there, helpless, completely at Zachary's mercy.

I managed to give Zachary a faint smile, and the effect was instant. His anger flared, and the crowd below started to stir, their voices filled with righteous fury.

“She’s too arrogant! How dare such scum still live!”

“Die, you bitch!”

The hall erupted in noise, but the giant screen flickered again, revealing a new scene.

It was during our high school days, sitting at desks and chairs that seemed like relics from a past era.

With my backpack over my shoulder, Zachary and I left the classroom and headed toward the middle school section.

After standing at the school gates for a while, we heard a cheerful voice calling out to us.

“Zach! Sis! I’m here!”

Zoey skipped toward us, her backpack bouncing as she caught my arm.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a lollipop.

“I knew you were the best, Sis!” Zoey beamed with joy, her eyes lighting up.

“Stop saying that,” I teased, my face turning red with embarrassment.

The crowd stirred at the sight.

Aunt Mary broke down completely, sobbing so hard she could barely speak.

“Zoey was such a good child! Why can’t you just tell us who hurt her?” she wailed. “Why couldn’t you let Zoey rest in peace? My poor child! You… you don’t deserve to live!”

Aunt Mary sobbed uncontrollably, her voice heavy with grief, while the people in the audience looked visibly moved.

Although their father, Uncle John, had seen many tragedies and usually kept his composure, witnessing his beloved wife break down like that caused him to falter.

He pulled his wife into his arms, whispering comforting words, but his eyes turned to me, filled with unmistakable hatred.

The memory on the screen continued.

After school, Zoey and I went to our secret spot—an abandoned park near the school with a small creek running through it.

We’d set up a tent there, a place almost no one knew about. We often went there to buy snacks, grill food, and have little picnics, away from the world.

Seeing this on the screen, the audience collectively gasped.

This was the very place where Zoey’s tragedy had occurred.

When the case was first opened to search for clues, this spot was mentioned, but unfortunately, no useful evidence was found.

The place had been abandoned for too long.

Zachary broke down in tears, unable to hold it together any longer.

“It’s all my fault," he cried out. "If I hadn’t taken Zoey to that place, everything would’ve been different.”

But then his gaze shifted to me.

“Zoey loved you so much! How could you be so heartless, Joanne? Is your heart made of stone?!”

He punched the bed railing with all his might, as if somehow doing so would release the anger burning inside him.

Tears from Zachary fell onto my hand.

I could feel their heat, their sting.

“I… I tried, Zach,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, exhausted.

“Tried? You call this trying? You’re shielding a murderer! You’re breaking the law! You’re helping him escape justice!” Zachary screamed, his emotions spiraling out of control.

I closed my eyes, and the memory of that sunny girl flooded back. Her smile was so warm, it seemed able to melt even the coldest glaciers.

“Mr. Mitchell...”

The doctor beside us tried to speak, but hesitated, unsure of what to say.

Zachary shot him a cold glance.

The doctor involuntarily shivered, his body tensing in fear.

“Say it," Zachary ordered.

“She’s… she’s resisting,” the doctor stammered. “She's avoiding that part of her memory deliberately.”

Zachary's lips curved into a cold, twisted smile.

“Good,” he said softly. “Very good.”

"Then increase the current," Zachary said coldly. "I want to see just how tough her bones really are."

The doctor hesitated for a moment, but then he obeyed Zachary’s command.

Electricity surged through my head and limbs, and slowly, I began to lose all sensation. It felt as if my body was shutting down.

I knew my time was running out.

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay silent, not letting a single sound escape.

“Who the hell are you protecting?!” Zachary roared, his voice thick with rage.

I opened my eyes, tears clouding my vision.

Through him, I thought I saw that bright, sunny boy I once knew.

"I... I can't say," I whispered weakly.

Zachary’s face darkened, his eyes growing colder. He stood up, walking toward me, towering above.

"If you won’t speak, I have my ways. Zoey endured more pain than this. What you’re going through is nothing."