Judge Caine began to read, "First charge. When the defendant's mother was unwell, the defendant neither contributed financially nor showed up in person. Defendant, do you plead guilty?"

I licked my cracked lips. Even without a mirror, I knew my face must be deathly pale.

"I do not." My voice was low, but the microphone beside me carried it clearly.

"Very well. Based on the plaintiff's evidence, we will reconstruct the events."

The evidence Judge Caine referred to was my parents' version of events, pieced together from their memories. Only after that would mine be revealed.

The screen immediately shifted to three years ago. Mom had been hit by a car while jaywalking. Since she was at fault, the driver refused to compensate us. Our family had no choice but to accept the loss.

In the hospital, Mom's leg was broken. Sweat beaded across her forehead from the pain.

Cody rushed over from school, while Dad returned from outside the ward, looking dejected as he said, "There's not enough money on the card. Call Bran. Tell him to bring cash."

Cody quickly called me, his voice urgent. "Bran, Mom's been hit by a car. Come to the hospital right away and bring money!"

My quiet reply came through the phone. "I can't make it. Um…"

Before I could finish, the call was cut. Cody slammed his phone down in anger and turned to Mom, saying, "Bran says he's not coming, and he won't give any money. What kind of brother do I have?"

Mom burst into tears. "I raised him all these years, and this is what I get? I'm dying, and I can't even see him once. Why is my life so miserable?"

From the gallery, my relatives erupted in outrage, pointing at me as they cursed.

"Brandon, do you even have a conscience? When you had a high fever as a kid, your family wasn't well off, and your mom carried you miles in the middle of the night to find a doctor. Now that you're grown up, is this how you repay her? How could you be so heartless?"

When I was a kid? I let out a cold laugh. Mom really had put on a flawless act.

I'd only developed a fever because she was busy playing poker. I told her early on that I didn't feel well. She snapped, secretly kicking me, her voice vicious in my ear. "You're blocking my luck, you jinx! Get lost. It's just a little fever. Why are you whining? You're such a dramatic kid!"

In the end, I said nothing. I went home, curled up in bed, and drifted in and out of sleep.

When Mom came back, she didn't even notice me. She tiptoed to Cody's bedside and gently kissed him.

It was only when my aunt came by and noticed something was wrong. She touched my forehead, only to find it burning hot, and quickly told Mom.

Mom played the devoted parent act perfectly in front of people, treating me well only when others were around. Even when my aunt insisted on driving me to the hospital, Mom acted as if she hadn't heard, carrying me and rushing out the door.

The story quickly spread throughout the neighborhood. Everyone said Mom loved me most.

But that night, the doctor said I had nearly burned my brain out, questioning why they had waited so long to bring me in. Mom couldn't answer.

Of course she couldn't. She had been too busy playing poker to even make me dinner. The only thing I had to drink was cold water. No child's stomach could've handled that.

Back in the present, Mom looked at me with a smug expression, as if certain I had no way to defend myself. After all, it was true that I hadn't gone to the hospital or given them money.

I had to admit, my parents were good at choosing incidents that favored them.

Even so, Mom continued her tearful performance, her tears seemingly for me, but in reality, they were for the relatives watching.

"Bran, I can understand if you didn't want to pay for my treatment. But when I was hospitalized, you didn't even visit once. What kind of son…"

The live chat comments immediately turned against me.

"What could possibly be so important that you can't even take a call? I reply to messages while waiting at traffic lights. How can you call yourself someone's son?"

"Unbelievable. Parents are usually closest to the child they favor most, but it's the opposite here. His brother is a better son than he is."

Some comments were also on my side.

"What if he really had something urgent? I once took a call from home during a meeting and got fired for it."

"To the commenter above, how often does something like that actually happen?"

The live chat went back and forth, while my relatives in the gallery hurled insults that were hard to listen to. Meanwhile, Mom kept wiping her tears, playing the perfect victim.

Judge Caine glanced at me. "We will now extract the defendant's memory."

A surge of electricity shot through my body. I convulsed, fists clenched tight, forcing myself not to make a sound.

The screen shifted to my perspective. I was sitting by the roadside, chewing on bread under the blazing sun, sweat soaking through my clothes. Around me were laborers waiting for work. I was one of them.

At the time, my company downsized. Because I hadn't bribed HR, I was laid off. I couldn't afford to sit idle. I had nothing to my name.

My phone rang. I had barely said half a sentence when a truck arrived to pick workers. Everyone rushed forward. My phone was knocked out of my hand and hit the ground, the screen shattering.

Worried about Mom, I dropped to the ground, scrambling to find my phone. But people kept kicking it around. By the time I finally picked it up, it had already turned off.

I didn't have time to think. I heard someone shout that it was 200 dollars for three hours of work. A coworker I got along with pulled me onto the truck.

Once inside, I borrowed his phone to call Cody. But he declined every call.

The live chat comments began to shift.

"I thought Brandon was supposed to be the richest one. Did you guys notice? Cody was using the latest phone, while Brandon had some cheap off-brand phone my grandma wouldn't even use."

"Cody and the parents were dressed in designer clothes too. Even in the hospital, they were in an expensive private room. Meanwhile, Brandon was out there eating bread under the hot sun."

A flicker of unease crossed my parents' and Cody's faces.

I said nothing, simply keeping my eyes fixed on the screen.

I worked at a courier station, hauling packages nonstop. A few times, I nearly collapsed from exhaustion, but I refused to quit. After all, if I gave up, I'd have to walk back on my own, and I wouldn't get to put food on the table.

In the end, I held out. When it came time to receive payment, I was overjoyed. Clutching the cash, I quickly found a phone and called home again. I wanted to know how Mom was doing.

This time, it was Mom's voice on the other end of the line.

"Mom, how are you? Which hospital are you at? I'll come see you right now."

Mom's voice came through the receiver, cold and indifferent. "Drop the act. What were you doing earlier? Forget it. I won't argue with you. Just transfer me some money. The money isn't enough for the surgery."

Back then, I didn't realize that she never wanted me to visit at all. All she wanted was money.

I gripped the phone tightly, my knuckles turning pale. I said with difficulty, "Mom, isn't all my money with you? My salary, and the severance pay from when I got laid off. You said you were keeping it for me for a house and marriage. Now that you're hospitalized, you should use that first. It's fine. Just use it."

Silence stretched on the other end. Even the relatives in the gallery fell quiet, their expressions turning strange as they looked at Mom. She turned her head away, avoiding their gazes.

The live chat exploded.

"I finally understand why the three of them get to live so comfortably while Brandon's out doing odd jobs. He doesn't even get his own money."

"What if Brandon's mom really didn't want to touch his savings?"

"To the commenter above, are you still defending them? None of the three of them even work, yet they live that well. Where do you think the money came from?"

Back on the screen, Mom finally spoke again. "Wasn't your money supposed to be for Cody? Do you have any idea how much his private school tuition costs each year?

"And he needs proper clothes too. Otherwise, how's he supposed to hold his head up in school? That little salary of yours isn't enough for anyone. Transfer the money now, or I'll die here in the hospital!"

I remembered how my chest tightened then, how my blood ran cold. That was five years' worth of my wages. I had lived frugally to support the household. I had trusted Mom completely, handing over all my savings to her. I never imagined she'd spend every cent on Cody.

I gritted my teeth. "I don't have any money left either. Just tell me which hospital you're in. I'll come see you."

Even after everything, I still understood Mom's love for Cody. I was still worried about her condition.

But she barked back, "If you don't have money, why bother coming? If money is more important than me, then go earn more money! Don't call me your mother!"

The call then ended. I stood there, frozen, still holding the phone to my ear.

As the scene abruptly ended there, Judge Caine brought down the gavel. "On the first charge, the defendant is not guilty."

At that verdict, my parents and Cody glared at me, their teeth clenched. A third of the relatives who had been backing Mom earlier fell silent. But some still spoke up.

"What does this prove? So what if a son spends a little money on his mother? Even if she didn't tell him which hospital, he could've found out if he really cared."

"Yeah. It's about sincerity. He's got a mouth. He could've asked around."

Mom immediately resumed her pitiful performance, tears and snot running down her face.

"Bran, I was just in pain back then. My emotions got the better of me. Can you forgive me? You've always had an income, haven't you? I'm not in the best health, and your father's salary barely covers anything. Families are supposed to support each other."

Support each other? I recalled being the only one giving all this time.

For the first time, I met Mom's eyes directly. And for the first time in this courtroom, I spoke to her. "The truth is what it is. You and I both know it. You can cut the act now. Just keep watching."

Mom choked. I clearly saw the malice flash in her eyes.

My relatives immediately jumped back in. "You heartless thing! How could you talk to your mother like that? Even if you slipped past this charge, how do you explain beating your own parents?"