Chapter 7
My father immediately roared, “Take that two–faced, ungrateful traitor away! She’s the one who
truly deserves to be punished!”
I stood up, eyes sharp as blades. “Your honor, I request running a memory extraction to Isabelle!”
The entire courtroom fell into chaos. Under the silver dome, the jury began whispering among
themselves. On the surrounding screens, live comments flooded the space like a blizzard, too fast
to even read.
The werewolf judge paused, his gaze cold and commanding as it swept over the room. Then he solemnly nodded. “Request granted.”
Isabelle thrashed, her scent spiking with raw, feral panic, but she was no trained werewolf enforcer. The executioner’s grip didn’t budge. Pinned under the memory extractor, she could only
watch as silver threads coiled around her temples.
With a flash of light, the machine hummed to life.
As the screen lit up, her memories began to play.
A lawyer placed a contract in front of Isabelle, speaking in a calm tone. “Your biological parents
both had large life insurance policies. You’re the sole beneficiary. The payout is worth several
million dollars.”
“But because you’re a minor, the funds must be temporarily managed by your new guardians. They can only hold it, but not allow to use it. Once you come of age, it’ll all belong to you.”
The scene shifted abruptly. The door swung open to reveal my parents lingering at the threshold, their expressions unreadable. They’d clearly been eavesdropping for a while. But what flickered in their eyes wasn’t grief or concern. No, it was something far uglier: naked greed, cold calculation.
Then, in a blink, memory changed again.
Isabelle appeared in the doorway instead, her fingers white–knuckled around her backpack straps, lips caught nervously between her teeth as she hesitated on the threshold.
My father’s eyes gleamed as he shot my mother a look.
She understood immediately, dragged Isabelle inside, and said gently, “Don’t be afraid, sweetie. From now on, Auntie is your mommy.”
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Isabelle leaned into her like a lost little pup. My mother’s body stiffened briefly, but then she reached out and hugged her, a twisted softness flickering across her face.
I watched all of this, numb inside.
Over the years, I had asked myself again and again–what did I do wrong to make my parents hate
me so much?
I thought I wasn’t obedient enough, not considerate enough, not lovable enough.
But I never imagined it was all because of a payout, money soaked in death. A sum big enough to lift
a werewolf family out of poverty into the middle class.
I let out a cold, bitter laugh.
It was absurd. Absolutely cruel.
My father suddenly dropped to his knees, his face pale, voice trembling. “Camilla, I know I was
wrong… Please forgive your father…”
“Camilla, Mom’s begging you. Don’t hate me… We were blinded by money. We aren’t deserve to be human anymore…” my mother sobbed.
They wept uncontrollably, their tears dripping onto the stone floor of the plaintiff’s bench, mixing with the lines of age on their faces like the masks they’d worn for years were finally torn off.
I stared at them blankly, but all I could hear was the deep voice of the judge echoing from the stand,
heavy with the authority of the pack:
“This is the final jury vote. It cannot be changed or revoked. If the defendant loses, they will be executed immediately with the silver blade. If the plaintiff loses, they will be sentenced to life imprisonment in the Blood Moon Prison.”
The jury lights flickered on, one by one, shining like sacred silver under moonlight.
One hundred votes–all in my favor.
I was innocent.
The crowd erupted into cheers. A silver beam shot up into the dome above, and the pack’s emblem,
the burning wolf’s head, lit the sky.
But I couldn’t force a smile.
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Because kneeling before me now were the very people I’d once desperately craved love and approval from—my own flesh and blood.
They begged for my forgiveness, not out of remorse, but because a word from me might lighten their sentence. Maybe even grant them clemency.
But I didn’t want to forgive them.
Just like before the trial, when they were so sure they’d win, they never once cared if I lived or died.
The pack warriors came forward and dragged away my wailing parents with cold efficiency. They took Isabelle too. Her face was bloodless and eyes hollow.
And I stepped down from the platform, walking through the towering silver gates, leaving the past behind me.
The first half of my life had been trapped in darkness, blood, and tears. It was a swamp of endless despair.
But I had made it out.
Parents like that didn’t deserve even one more of my tears.
Once, I had lowered myself to the dust just for a shred of love. But today, I finally understood: To receive love from others, you must first learn to love yourself.
Outside the courthouse, the sky stretched clear and endless, sunlight breaking through the clouds to warm my skin.
I knew it then–my life, from this day forward, would blaze as bright as that spring sun.
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