His mother sat in the audience, bawling hysterically, while she loudly recounted my alleged misdeeds.
I stared at them and sank into thought.
The spectators, too, glared at me with fury.
They acted as if I had wronged each of them.
And then, the trial began.
I was led to the defendant's stand, just behind the memory extraction device.
The judge turned to me, her voice stern. "Defendant, based on the plaintiff's accusations, we will now proceed with a memory extraction for truth verification.
"If everything aligns with the plaintiff's claims, you will be convicted."
I glanced at Jake.
Beside him were his sister, his mother, and our eight-year-old son.
They stood there, smug.
I asked, "Are you sure this trial will be one hundred percent fair? No favoritism?"
A murmur ran through the audience, shocked by my question.
Just a week ago, Jake had teamed up with his mother and sister to post a plea for help online.
They announced that they were taking me to court because I wanted a divorce.
Now, this wasn't any ordinary court. To ensure absolute fairness, both the plaintiff's and defendant's memories would be extracted and reviewed.
The judge, along with the Scales of Justice, would determine the verdict.