In my fifth year in prison, my mother visited for the first time. She was a nationally renowned lawyer and the key witness whose testimony put me here. We picked up the phones on either side of the thick glass. Her eyes were red when she asked how I had been all these years. I told her I was fine. Just before the visit ended, she said, “Aubrey, I bought a house in Havenwood. You will be out in three days. We can start over.” I smiled but said nothing. We could not start over. She did not know that to end the suffering of my cellmate Brenda, who had late stage cancer, I helped her die. For that, I was sentenced to death. My execution date was in three days. A cold draft seeped in through the cracks in the iron window. Only the static hum of the phone line filled the visitation room. Mom took a stack of documents from her bag and pressed them against the glass. “Aubrey Hayes, this is the deed. It’s in your name.” “And this is a letter of recommendation for the art school you always wanted. I’ve arranged everything.” Mom pointed at the documents, then instinctively looked toward me. “After you’re released, go abroad for a while. Let things settle. Come back when people have forgotten…” I nodded, offering a few polite, dismissive words. Seeing the visitation time was nearly over, I hung up and stood to leave. As I rose, my mother suddenly slapped her palm against the glass, agitated. “Aubrey, are you still mad at me?” “No need.” I took a few steps back, keeping my distance. My voice was calm. “Ms. Hayes, please mind your image.” “I wouldn’t want your colleagues to misunderstand.” As I turned to leave, she seemed to call out something. The soundproofing was too good-I didn’t hear it clearly. Only my prison uniform was soaked with cold sweat, sticky and uncomfortable. I casually rolled up my damp sleeve. In the dim light, the old scars from where I’d cut my wrists years ago became visible. I paused, then remembered. Today marked my fifth year in prison. Seeing Mom, there was no hatred as I’d imagined, none of the hysteria from when I was first locked up. I was calm, as if looking at a stranger. Back in the cell block, the guard had already opened the iron door. I pulled down my sleeve and walked towards my bunk. Brenda, the woman on the bottom bunk, a convicted murderer, gave me a complex smile. “Hey kid, you’re back? I’ve sorted out all your stuff for you.” “Take a look, see if there’s anything you want to keep. Anything you don’t need, just toss it. Might as well leave cleanly.” I opened the box. The first thing I saw was a fountain pen Mom had given me before I was incarcerated. It had a few words engraved on it: “To my beloved daughter, Aubrey Hayes.” Brenda suddenly became interested. She leaned over and said, “Oh, your mom gave you this? Looks expensive. She must have really doted on you back then.” She eagerly looked at the engraving on the pen. After seeing the familiar signature, she froze, her voice trembling slightly. “Victoria Hayes?” “Is that the ‘Iron Lady’ of the legal world?” “The top attorney who never lost a case, who sent countless powerful figures to prison?!” Brenda’s gaze shifted to me, filled with shock and bewilderment. “Aubrey, your mom’s so incredible, how on earth did you end up in here?” I tossed the pen into the trash, my voice flat. “Because I’m her daughter.” The daughter she personally fabricated testimony against and sent to prison to avoid any hint of impropriety.
Brenda kept pressing me for answers. I sat on the cold floor and began to tell her Mom’s story and mine. In the beginning, Mom wasn’t the legal legend she later became. She was just a struggling single mom with a child, an intern pouring tea and running errands at a law firm. No connections, no husband. The man who abandoned us had thrown us out of the house like trash. The winter in the north was bone-chilling. Mom, dressed in a thin business suit, huddled on the cold streets, shivering, holding me close. I knew Mom was starving, so I bravely begged for a piece of bread and shoved it into her mouth. In that desperate situation, Mom unleashed an astonishing will to survive. From then on, Mom was reborn. She won an industry award at thirty, became a law firm partner at thirty-five. By forty, cases she handled were making national headlines, and she collected accolades effortlessly. That man who’d kicked us out years ago knelt, begging for her to take him back. But she stood before him, coldly handing him a lawsuit. “I know exactly who treated me well and who kicked me when I was down.” “From this day forward, Aubrey and I, we have nothing to do with you.” “I will give Aubrey the best life, and no one will ever bully her.” From then on, Mom soared to new heights, yet she never thought of leaving me behind. No matter how busy she was, she always made time for me every day. When it was time for college, she turned down multi-million dollar cases to help me study. When I was looking for a job after graduation, she pulled every string she had to pave the way for me. I worried I might become a burden to Mom. But she looked at me and said, “Aubrey, that year in the snow, if it wasn’t for that half-eaten bread you gave me, I wouldn’t have made it.” “From that moment, I swore I’d make sure you lived a life of utmost comfort and opportunity.” “Aubrey, you are my life; no matter how high I fly, you are my only weakness.” She was that kind of person: extremely principled. Once she decided on something, she saw it through to the end. It was true when she was fighting a case. It was true when she was raising me. And it was true even when she sacrificed her own kin for the sake of ‘justice.’ “Sacrificed her kin?” Hearing this, Brenda’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You two relied on each other, such a deep bond, and she still sent you to jail?” “What kind of huge crime did you commit? Murder? Arson?” “Was it like on TV, where you became some big drug lord?” None of that. My crime was aggravated assault. By the time I was twenty-two, Mom was an unshakable authority in the legal world. She was no longer content with commercial victories. She began to dedicate more of her energy to what she called “social justice.” She didn’t care for money, nor power. Instead, she pursued fame with an almost obsessive fervor. Whether they were wealthy elites or high-ranking officials, if they broke the law, Mom took them all on, sending them straight to prison. What she was most proud of was her reputation for never showing favoritism or bending the law. “That impartiality is what put me at the top of my profession.” “The law is equal for everyone, and even my own family must face consequences if they break it.” “There’s no room for compromise in that process.” She said she loved the law. And she loved the thrill of holding people’s fates in her hands even more. In the realm of the courtroom, she was the goddess who controlled everything. Guilty or innocent, life or death – it was all up to her. I didn’t understand Mom’s grand philosophies. Then, one day, Liam Miller, a student Mom was sponsoring, suddenly looked up. “You’re right, I admire that spirit too.” “Justice knows no bias, it only demands a clear conscience.” “Look how well I did in the mock trial today; it’s all thanks to your excellent guidance.” On a stifling summer day, buzzing with unseen activity, my fate began to change.
After that, Mom often brought Liam home. She tutored him, held mock debates. The villa we lived in practically became Liam’s second home. Their relationship grew closer, almost like mother and son. Until one day, Mom suddenly suggested adopting him, asking him to move in with us. “His family is poor, and his dorm at school is terrible. Let him stay here.” Liam nervously rubbed his cheap pen. A forced, ingratiating grin spread across his face. “I’ll be very quiet.” “My grades are good, I’ll definitely repay Ms. Hayes for her kindness.” “Just give me a chance, and I’ll dedicate my life to repaying your kindness!” Looking at those seemingly sincere eyes, I suddenly remembered. Years ago, Mom huddled under a bridge with me, looking helpless and desperate. Once again, my heart softened. For a long time, I treated Liam like a younger brother. I cooked for him, bought him books. I taught him the ropes of city living. He told me I was the kindest sister in the world. He said that when he became a successful lawyer, he would protect me forever. And he didn’t disappoint Mom’s expectations. He successfully scored high on the bar exam. And on the celebratory, stormy night that followed, he violated me. Mom was away on a business trip that day, so I bought some food and drinks to celebrate with Liam. I drank until midnight, then collapsed, dizzy, on the sofa. When I woke up, I saw Liam’s twisted face above mine. My body was tearing apart with excruciating pain. In that moment, I completely broke down. I struggled desperately, grabbing the ashtray from the table and smashing it against his head. I hurled all the food and drinks from the table, shattering everything. Liam clutched his bleeding forehead, watching my resistance with cold eyes. “Aubrey, stop pretending. Who are you trying to seduce, dressed like that?” Between me and my innocence, he chose to destroy me without hesitation. Unable to bear any of it, I called the police and cried to Mom on the phone. She rushed back that night, frowning at my disheveled state. “Aubrey, don’t make a scene. This getting out would be bad for your reputation.” Liam also fell to his knees before Mom. “I know I wronged Aubrey, but I was drunk.” “She was the one who started touching me, and I just lost control.” “You’re the best lawyer!” “I have a bright future ahead of me. It can’t be ruined over something so trivial. Just help me this one time, and I’ll be like your own son!” I was only in my early twenties then. An age when I still believed in justice, and believed my mother would ensure I got it. I filed a lawsuit with the court. I wanted to send that monster in human skin to prison. But reality quickly taught me a harsh lesson. Mom, to uphold her image of impartiality, chose to testify as a witness for Liam, against me. In court, Mom stood in the witness box, dressed in her lawyer’s robe, her face expressionless. “This is my daughter. She generally has a very chaotic private life.” “I hope the jury will look at the facts objectively.” “Liam is an honest, decent young man. That night, to my knowledge, Aubrey Hayes was the one who invited him to drink.” “I don’t deny Liam was in the wrong, but in my eyes, this was a tragedy caused by seduction. Aubrey Hayes not only failed to reflect on her actions, but she also severely injured Liam.” Mom even revealed in court that I had expressed interest in Liam on more than one occasion. She knew saying that would hurt me. But she didn’t care. She only wanted to maintain her saint-like image in this high-profile case, even if it meant sacrificing her own daughter. And what about me? What was I? I sat in the plaintiff’s box, weeping in disbelief. My ears buzzed with the contemptuous whispers from the public gallery. 4 Mom continued to organize her case files. “Aubrey Hayes, don’t you understand yet?” “The law is about evidence. The fact that you gave Liam a concussion is undeniable.” “To ruin a young man’s future over this-you’re being selfish.” “I told you, I am your mother, but first and foremost, I am a legal professional.” No. I couldn’t bear it, the mother who I’d relied on my entire life. Her mind was, at every moment, focused on protecting her pristine professional image. I started screaming in court, becoming hysterical. I almost frantically accused the woman who gave birth to me and raised me. During recess, I rushed up to demand why. When the verdict came down, I lunged forward, wanting to tear apart Liam’s smug face. I wrote countless statements. I shed endless tears. But all I got in return was a judgment. Mom was too clever. She used legal loopholes to turn rape into a mutual fight, and self-defense into aggravated assault. Her expertise, her status, her understanding of the law. They allowed her to twist the truth, making black look white, with terrifying ease. In the end, Liam was released on the spot due to “insufficient evidence.” And I, for severely injuring another person, was personally sent to prison by Mom, sentenced to five years. I spoke calmly, but Brenda’s eyes were red. She bit her lip and asked, “What happened after that?” After that, I met Brenda, my cellmate who had late-stage cancer. She was the one who taught me that sometimes, death requires more courage than living. We had promised each other that when we were released, we would live together. But fate had other plans for me. Just a few days ago, Brenda was confirmed to have terminal cancer. In immense pain, she begged me to end her suffering. After some hesitation, I granted her wish. Three days passed quickly. On the morning of the execution, a light rain fell over Havenwood. I changed into a clean prison uniform. Brenda stood clutching the cell bars, weeping like a lost child. I smiled at her, my tone as casual as if we were parting after a chat. “Go back inside. Don’t worry about me.” When I walked out through the main gate, a familiar black car was parked across the street. It was Mom’s car. The door opened, and she stepped out, holding a bouquet of sunflowers.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “348476”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #浪漫Romance #重生Reborn
Leave a Reply