At the hearing, my former fiancé personally activated the device that would destroy my brain.

"Broadcast the crimes of this traitor!" he roared.

The other woman nestled beside him, sobbing weakly, "Ava, just admit your mistake. I don't want to see you throw your life away..."

My own brother sneered, "You brought this upon yourself."

My best friend shook his head in disappointment. "I don't even know who you are anymore."

They all expected the screen to display irrefutable proof of my collusion, my betrayal of the company.

But as the cold jolt shot through my brain, the first scene that emerged was from the avalanche five years ago—

I was scrambling against the crowd, back into the blizzard, using my slender body to shield my brother, who was pinned beneath a slab of packed ice.

The second scene was from the underground clinic three years ago—

I was kneeling before the doctor. "As long as he can live, I'm willing to trade a lifetime of my own health for it."

The third scene was from the gang's warehouse two years ago—

I shattered a wine bottle with my right hand and stabbed a thug. From that moment on, my hand—a designer's hand—was ruined forever.

A stunned silence fell over the hall. My former fiancé, eyes bloodshot, lunged for the stage to stop the device, but the board members restrained him.

"Once the program is initiated, it can't be stopped. Not until every memory has been read, or the subject dies!"

————————

1

At the hearing, beneath a massive display screen, sat an intricate device—the "Deep Sea" Neural Memory Reader. A cold metal helmet and a dense web of electrodes were secured tightly around my head.

"Ava Monroe is suspected of colluding with a competitor and selling the Blackwood Group's trade secrets. Today, she will face a public trial!"

The host's announcement echoed through the conference hall. My former fiancé, Isaiah Blackwood, CEO of the Blackwood Group, presided from the dais, his gaze burning with raw hatred.

"Broadcast her crimes! Let the whole world see the true face of this greedy traitor!"

Imogen Vanderbilt leaned into him, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. She knew today was my doom.

I trembled slightly, a wave of pain from my illness washing over me, but a smile of relief touched my pale face.

"Isaiah, are you sure you want to see this? Once it begins, there's no turning back."

My smile only seemed to infuriate him further. He slammed his fist on the table, roaring, "Still trying to act tough, even now?"

"If we don't watch, how is that fair to Imogen for what she's endured? What about justice for the company you betrayed?"

As soon as he finished, the shareholders below erupted in angry roars.

"Expel this traitor!"

"Shameless woman! She was just jealous of Imogen, so she stooped to colluding with outsiders!"

"Start the reading! Run her out of town!"

Isaiah looked down at me from his chairman's seat, his tone dripping with false pity. "It's not too late to confess, Ava. If you kneel and apologize to Imogen, and admit your crimes, I might allow you to keep one last shred of dignity."

Beside him, Imogen lifted her head and whispered weakly, "Don't be like this, Isaiah. I believe Ava didn't mean to..."

She turned to me, her eyes welling with tears, the picture of kindness and innocence. "Ava, just admit it, okay? Please, I don't want to see you ruin yourself like this."

I watched her clumsy performance and laughed. "Imogen, are you really sure you want them to see my 'evidence'?"

Before she could answer, my next words made her expression freeze. "I want to see it. I want to see how you, and all of them, can live with yourselves after this."

My gaze swept past Isaiah and fell on the two men behind him. One was my brother, Asher Monroe, the company's COO.

The other was Cole Donovan, my best friend and the company's head of security—the man who'd once promised to protect me forever.

They were once the most important people in my life. But now, they had all become Imogen's most loyal supporters.

Asher frowned and said impatiently, "Ava, don't blame me for being heartless. You brought this on yourself. To think you'd sell out the company for power and profit. Even if Isaiah lets you go today, I absolutely will not."

Cole just sighed, shaking his head. "I don't even know who you are anymore, Ava. Imogen is a good person. She was even willing to help you contact the best doctors, yet this is how you repay her."

"Alright," I said softly. "Since you're all so eager to see it, let's begin."

Isaiah's voice boomed through the hall. "Begin! Let everyone see how she betrayed the company, and betrayed me!"

A board member sighed and signaled the technicians to start.

A technician secured the cold metal helmet to my head. On the life-signs monitor beside me, my heartbeat and brainwave activity flickered.

"Warning: The 'Deep Sea' neural memory reading will cause irreversible neurological damage. The process will continue until all evidence is read, with an extremely high probability of leading to complete cognitive loss or even brain death. Confirm execution?" the technician stated flatly, awaiting the final confirmation.

"Execute," Isaiah's voice held no trace of hesitation.

The moment the strong electrical current shot through the helmet, an indescribable pain exploded in my skull, as if billions of red-hot steel needles were searing through my brain. My body convulsed violently, jerking against the restraints that held me in the chair.

This was the cruelest punishment reserved for accused traitors—a public execution of memory, at the cost of one's life. The memories read would be converted into images and displayed on the big screen for all to see, while the reading process progressively destroyed my cerebral cortex until I was reduced to a vegetative state, or died.

I could feel my thoughts fragmenting, my memories being violently ransacked and torn apart, but I didn't resist. Instead, a sense of unprecedented calm washed over me.

Let them watch. Let them see it all. Let them see what I did for them in my short, tragic life. And let them see how they repaid me.

Under the harsh lights, Imogen's triumphant smile was exceptionally clear. She was waiting for me to be utterly ruined, to become a vegetable or a corpse amidst public scorn.

My gaze swept from her to the cold, disgusted, and impatient expressions on the faces of those three men.

I smiled. "Isaiah, Asher, Cole, this is my last gift to you. I hope... you'll like it."

As the screen blazed to life, my consciousness began to fade. My brain was forced into overdrive, neurons screaming as they died under the immense strain. Even the searing pain in my chest started to grow numb, overshadowed by the more intense agony in my skull.

Imogen's gloating, saccharine voice drifted over. "Look, it's starting! Now everyone can see this greedy woman's true face!"

Below, shareholders pointed at me, whispering, "Looks can be deceiving. A traitor like her should be publicly shamed!"

"She always seemed so quiet and harmless. Who knew she was so malicious inside?"

"She should've known her place. Just some arm candy who dared to covet power in the company? Thank goodness Mr. Blackwood saw through her in time, or the future of the Blackwood Group would be in jeopardy."

Isaiah remained expressionless, as if watching a trial that had nothing to do with him.

Finally, the image on the screen stabilized. Everyone had expected to see emails or bank transfers of my collusion with competitors. What appeared instead silenced the entire hall in an instant.

It was a sea of white.

A blizzard had buried the Aspen ski resort. The scene cut to the fatal avalanche from five years ago.

At the site of the avalanche, a man in a bright blue ski suit struggled painfully in the deep snow. His goggles were caked with frost, but the unique Blackwood family crest on his left arm was clearly visible.

On the dais, a violent tremor ran through Asher's body. His face instantly turned deathly pale.

It was him. Everyone recognized him.

In the footage, he tried to struggle free, but the more he fought, the deeper he sank into the snow.

"Help! Somebody help me!" he shrieked, his voice cracking with sheer terror.

Just then, a white figure cut through the blizzard. It was a petite woman, moving with astonishing agility.

She was going against the flow of evacuees, a human arrow rushing headlong into the danger zone of the avalanche. She navigated the collapsing snowdrifts with astonishing speed.

That was me, five years ago. I was still young then, healthy, and capable of such an extreme feat.

To save Asher, I had rushed in, disregarding everything.

"Asher!" My voice was a raw cry against the wind.

I finally found him, unconscious from lack of oxygen, pinned by a massive slab of ice and snow. The slab was still shifting, threatening to bury him completely at any moment.

The surrounding snowpack was unstable, ready to collapse again.

Without hesitation, I wedged my shoulder under the slab, dug my hands deep into the ice and snow, and heaved with all my might.

"Ah!"

The ice and snow tore through my gloves, my hands instantly numb with frostbite. The bone-chilling cold made me tremble, but I didn't give up.

I heaved again and again, my teeth chattering.

"Asher, wake up! Wake up!"

Finally, Asher let out a faint groan.

Just then, a deafening roar came from above—a secondary avalanche was coming. A massive wave of snow, carrying chunks of ice, plunged down toward us.

There was nowhere to run.

In the footage, without a moment's hesitation, I threw myself over Asher, shielding him with my own slender body.

The wave of snow slammed onto my back, and an indescribable pain instantly plunged my vision into darkness.

The injuries were too severe. I had multiple fractures and severe frostbite. Lying on top of Asher, my back was a bloody ruin.

The sickening crack of bone and my own pained groans echoed in the biting wind.

I bit my lip, and with my last ounce of strength, I pushed him out from under the snowdrift.

"Asher... run..."

My consciousness was fading fast.

Just before I blacked out completely, I saw another figure run out from the corner of a distant safe house.

It was Imogen. She was unharmed, with only a few snowflakes dusting her clothes.

She glanced at us, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes, before she ran towards the arriving rescue team and media cameras.

The recording ended there.

The hall was plunged into a dead silence. All eyes slowly turned to Asher. His face, drained of all color, looked like it was carved from stone.

Asher was trembling so hard his teeth chattered, his lips moving but forming no words.

He remembered it clearly. After the avalanche five years ago, everyone had told him that it was Imogen who organized the rescue team and risked her life to pull him out.

When he woke up, the first person he saw was Imogen. She clung to him, weeping about how terrified she'd been, how she'd overcome her fear just for him.

As for me, when the rescue team carried me back to town, I was a mangled mess, barely breathing. I lay in a coma at the hospital for two weeks, clinging to life.

Everyone, including Asher, thought I was only injured because I was reckless and overconfident. He even scolded me harshly for it, saying I would never grow up, that I only caused trouble, and was nothing like the brave and kind Imogen.

Now, this recording presented the bloody truth right before his eyes.

Imogen's face had also turned deathly pale. She grabbed Isaiah's arm, frantically explaining, "No... it wasn't like that... I was there too... I was just so scared..."

Isaiah frowned. He looked at the mangled, bloody image of me in the footage, then at Asher's ashen face. For the first time, a flicker of doubt crossed his eyes.

Cole also stood up, his expression one of pure shock. "Is... is this real? Ava..."

My strength was draining away. The pain in my chest came in waves, each stronger than the last.

I could feel my consciousness fading, but the screen did not stop. It would continue to drain my life until it had broadcast all the evidence, or until I died.

The screen flickered again, loading the second file.

This time, the light focused on Isaiah, sitting on the dais. His heart sank. A cold dread washed over him.

The scene switched to three years ago, in a hospital's ICU.

Isaiah lay on the bed, convulsing violently. Beneath his pale skin, dark veins spread from his heart across his entire body.

His eyes were shut tight, his breathing shallow.

"It's a rare genetic blood disorder," the hospital's lead physician announced grimly. "We're out of options. His only chance is a perfectly matched bone marrow transplant."

Isaiah's expression became as grim as Asher's. He remembered this scene clearly.

Three years ago, he had been on the brink of death from a sudden onset of his genetic blood disorder. The entire medical team was helpless. Everyone thought he was going to die, that the Blackwood Group was about to lose its CEO.

In the footage, Imogen knelt by his bed, crying in anguish. Asher and Cole stood by, their expressions grave.

As for me, I was there too. I looked at the dying Isaiah, then turned and walked out of the ward.

Seeing me leave, Imogen immediately turned to Asher. "Look at her, Asher. Isaiah is dying, and she doesn't care at all."

Asher watched my retreating back, his eyes filled with pained disappointment.

The memory's perspective shifted, following me. I slipped into an unmarked car and sped toward a notorious underground clinic on the outskirts of the city.

That clinic was a den of illegal medical experiments and black-market drug trades, a forbidden place that normal people would never dare to enter.

I rushed in without a second thought, the clinic's filthy water soaking my shoes.

I navigated through the wretched place and finally, before a surgical room enclosed by iron bars, I met the legendary underground doctor.

He was bone-thin, but his eyes glinted with a sharp, calculating greed.

"What do you want, little girl?" he asked.

I knelt before him and pleaded in a trembling voice, "Please, save Isaiah. He has a blood disorder and needs a bone marrow transplant."

The doctor let out a harsh laugh. "I can save him. But what can you give me in return? My help doesn't come cheap."

I looked up, my gaze unflinching. "To save him, I'll give you anything."

The doctor sized me up, a strange curve to his lips. "Of course."

"You are very healthy, a perfect immune system. You're stronger than most, with a faster recovery ability."

"So, the deal is this—I save him, but I want you as payment, as the exchange."

"From now on, your body will grow weak, riddled with illness. You'll be unable to handle any real strain. Your health will fail, and each flare-up will bring unimaginable, agonizing pain."

"Do you accept?"