Chapter 3
After that, Mom started bringing Victor over all the time.
She'd tutor him. They'd run through mock trials together.
Our villa pretty much turned into Victor's second home.
The two of them got closer and closer. It was like he'd become the son she never had.
Then one day, Mom suddenly suggested Victor crash at our place for a while.
She said, "His family's struggling, and the dorms are awful. Let him stay here to prep for his exams."
Victor fidgeted nervously with a cheap plastic pen in his hands.
He squeezed out an awkward, hopeful smile.
He said, "Alison, I'll stay out of your way. I won't be any trouble.
"My grades are good. I'll do anything to repay Ms. Shaw. I owe her everything for believing in me.
"Just give me a chance, and I'll do anything for you guys—whatever you need!"
I looked into his eyes. They seemed so earnest. And suddenly, I was thrown back in time.
To Mom clutching me under that overpass all those years ago.
She looked so lost, so desperate back then.
Once again, I caved. I just couldn't help it.
For a long time, I looked after Victor like he was my own little brother.
I cooked for him. Bought his books.
I showed him how things worked in the city.
He looked up to me like I was his whole world. He kept saying I was the kindest person alive.
He swore that once he became a top lawyer, he'd always have my back and protect me for life.
And he really lived up to Mom's expectations.
He aced the bar exam with flying colors.
And on that stormy night when we were celebrating, he crawled into my bed.
With Mom away on a business trip, I went out and bought some booze and food to throw him a little party.
We kept drinking late into the night, and I was so dizzy that I just collapsed onto the couch.
When I woke up, Victor's warped face was looming over me.
A pain ripped through my body like I was being torn in two.
That was the moment I snapped.
I grabbed the ashtray and smashed it into his head.
Food and booze went flying everywhere, smashing into a mess.
Victor clutched his bleeding forehead, giving me a cold, dead look as I struggled against him.
He sneered, his voice dripping with contempt, "Alison, quit pretending.
"Your mom's not home, and you're dressed like that. Who are you trying to lead on?"
Faced with a choice between my innocence and his own, he didn't hesitate. To protect his, he chose to destroy me.
I couldn't take it anymore. I called the police, then broke down and dialed Mom, sobbing uncontrollably.
She rushed back that night, her brows tightly knit as she looked me over—my clothes disheveled. Her eyes were sharp, scrutinizing.
She said, "Alison, don't make this public. If this gets out, it's you who will look bad."
Victor began to beg Mom bitterly.
He blurted out, "Ms. Shaw, I know I did Alison wrong, but I was wasted, I swear.
"She started it. She came onto me first, and I just lost my head.
"You're the best lawyer ever, seriously. My whole future is ahead of me. Please, don't let one mistake ruin it.
"Just help me this once. I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I'll be loyal to you like you're my own mother."
Back then, I was only in my twenties.
At that age, I really believed in justice. I believed Mom would stand up for me. I believed she would make it right.
I pressed charges and took him to court.
I was determined to see that monster locked up for what he did.
But reality hit me hard and fast.
To prove her commitment to justice—to prove she was completely "fair and impartial"—Mom did something I never imagined.
She testified for Victor's defense.
In the courtroom, Mom stood at the witness stand, stone-faced in her barrister's robe.
She said, "This is my daughter. Her personal life is a mess.
"I ask the jury to examine the facts without bias.
"Victor has always been a serious, disciplined young man. As far as I know, it was Alison who invited him to drink that night.
"I'm not saying Victor is without fault, but honestly, this situation began because Alison made advances toward him. Instead of accepting responsibility, she severely injured him."
She even stated, in open court, that I had shown interest in Victor on multiple occasions.
She knew exactly how much that would hurt me.
But she didn't care.
All she cared about was polishing her saintly image in this high-profile case—even if it meant sacrificing her own daughter.
But what about me?
Where did that leave me?
I sat there at the plaintiff's table, crying in disbelief. I couldn't believe this was real.
All I could hear was the low, scornful murmur of the crowd—a buzzing in my ears.