I Kept My Bride’s Secret, Only to Be Betrayed by My Brother-in-Law novel

On our wedding night, my wife was attacked in the bedroom. She screamed my name for help until her voice went hoarse.
I stayed hidden in the study with the door locked, never showing myself. After the attacker left, my wife couldnt accept what had happened. She jumped out of the window and lost consciousness.
Even when my in-laws knelt and begged me to tell the truth, I insisted I hadnt seen the attacker and refused to help with the investigation.
Five years later, my brother-in-law used his connections to drag me into court, where memory-retrieval tech replayed the crime. When everyone saw the truth, they went crazy.

Five years after the wedding night assault, I was brought in as the only witness and a suspect and the police interrogated me publicly.
Technicians would use the latest memory-retrieval tech to pull my memories and show them as images on a big screen, recreating the crime scene exactly.
To see the truth, tens of thousands of people crowded around the trial and the livestream drew an unprecedented 200 million viewers.
On the judges bench, Vincent, my brother-in-law and the police captain, spoke coldly. Bring in the eyewitness, Erickson!
The door opened and I walked out in a prison uniform with heavy shackles, escorted by the guards, my head lowered.
I had only taken a few steps when people threw rotten eggs and vegetables at me, cursing loudly.
Coward! Your wife was attacked in front of you and you still dare to live!
Your wife has been in a coma for five years and the killer is still freeall because you wouldnt tell the truth!
Is the killer your father? Is he really worth protecting?
Did you make some dirty deal with the murderersell out your wife for money or fame? Youre worse than an animal!
The insults grew worse and some people even tried to break through the barrier to attack me. The bailiffs had to fire warning shots to keep order.
As I reached the center of the courtroom, Vincent suddenly drove his knee hard into my stomach.
Pain exploded through me and blood dripped from my mouth as I collapsed to my knees. No one felt sorry for me; instead, the crowd cheered.
Vincent grabbed my hair, pulled his face close and growled in my ear, Erickson, when the truth comes out, you and that murderer will die miserably.
His hatred was nothing like the bright, friendly young man who once called me brother-in-law when we first met.
Below the platform, my in-laws looked much older, leaning on each other as they stared at me with hatred in their eyes.
Tasha loved you and gave you everything, yet you watched her suffer and still protected the killer, letting him go free!
Erickson, you monster, you deserve to die!
When we discussed marriage, this well-educated couple never looked down on my poor background. They treated me like their own son and supported me in everything.
After the incident, they didnt blame me at first. They understood I was scared and only encouraged me to tell the truth.
But even when they knelt and begged, I stayed silent. For five years, I was locked up as a suspect and tortured by Vincent every day.

Because of my terrible reputation, the prison ignored his abuse and even allowed him to use non-lethal methods if it meant getting the truth faster.
No one expected that even when I nearly died many times, I still never gave in. Now, memory extraction was my only hope.
Vincent shaved my head, then, without any anesthesia, forced a five-centimeter metal connector into my skull. I shook in pain and foamed at the mouth, but he ignored it and even refused the doctors offer of a sedative.
This animal wont die so easily! I want him to watch the killer hes protecting get exposed in the most painful way!
At his command, the memory extraction started. The first scene appeared: a university library, coming into focus.
I sat by the window reading. When I looked up, Tasha was tiptoeing to place a copy of The Little Prince beside me.
In my memory, I touched her hair. She leaned on my shoulder and said softly, After you graduate, lets rent a small place. Ill cook, you wash the dishes and on weekends well go to the morning market together, okay?
The scene then shifted to a small rented room, its narrow kitchen filled with the smell of scallions.
Wash your hands! I got paid today and bought your favorite braised pork knuckle! I said as I hugged her from behind.
Beep! This fragment is marked as top-priority memory, the cold, mechanical voice said. The courtroom instantly stirred.
You beast! How dare you think of this? Tasha fought with her family to be with you and gave you everything! And this is how you repay her? Disgusting! Looking at these happy memories, doesnt your conscience hurt? When she was screaming for help, were you still thinking about this? Do you deserve anything?!
Insults filled the courtroom and people threw rotten eggs and vegetables at me again.
The bailiffs moved in again to control the crowd, but people looked ready to break through, their angry shouts ringing in my ears.
Vincent kicked me hard and I crashed to the floor. My knee slammed into the tiles, the pain almost numb.
Erickson! he shouted coldly. You still dare to remember these things? You have no right!
Lying on the ground with blurred vision, I saw my in-laws. My mother-in-law collapsed into her husbands arms, crying, while he held her with shaking hands and looked at me as if I were a monster.
If Tasha knew what you were really like, shed rather die than marry you!
The memory continued. It was the day we took our wedding photos. Tasha, in her wedding dress, spun on the lawn with her arm linked through mine.
Enough! Vincent shouted, grabbing the metal connector on my head. Turn off the machine! I wont let him remember any of this!
The technician rushed to stop him. Captain Newton, no! If you interrupt it now, it will cause permanent brain damage!
Brain damage? He deserves it! Why should he enjoy these happy memories now? Tasha has been in the ICU for five years and hes here thinking about the good times. Isnt that ridiculous?!

The shouting grew louder. Some yelled for me to die, others called me selfish and cold-blooded.
I lay on the ground with blood at my lips, but those memories kept replaying in my mind. The memories that once kept me going were now the sharpest knives hurting me.
You dont understand! You dont understand at all!
Dont understand? Whats there not to understand! Vincent grabbed my hair and smashed my face into the floor.
We know you hid in the study while your wife was attacked! We know you protected the killer for five years! We know Tasha is still unconscious! What else do you have to say? My forehead hit the floor, blood blurring my vision.
I knew everyone hated me; my cowardice, my protection of the killer and the harm done to Tasha. But I couldnt speak. I really couldnt. Some truths were more terrifying than death.
I pulled out a hidden porcelain shard Id taken from a bowl in the detention center. When his grip on my hair loosened, I moved quickly and cut my own neck.
Warm blood poured down my neck. It was over; no more torture, no more risking that terrible truth being exposed. Tasha, Im sorry this is the only way left to protect your dignity.
Stop him! Vincent shouted and a strong force knocked me to the ground.
The bailiffs pinned me down. Vincent crouched, watching the blood from my neck. Erickson, do you want to die? Its not that easy!
He grabbed my collar, his voice harsh. Youll stay alive, even barely, until I find the murderer and Tasha wakes up!
The doctor rushed over with gauze and tools to quickly bandage my wound. Vincent stood aside and ordered sharply, Give him a heart stimulant and a clotting shot. Do whatever it takes. Keep him alive!
Captain Newton, that dose is too high; it could seriously harm his nerves, the doctor said, hesitating.
Damage? Vincent sneered. Trash like him doesnt matter. As long as he stays alive until we find the truth, even if he ends up brain?dead, I dont care!
The doctor didnt argue, took a syringe, drew the drug and injected it into my vein. The drug flowed through my veins, quickly reaching my whole body.
My heart raced, my muscles stiffened and I struggled to breathe. The bailiffs helped me back into the chair.
The gauze on my neck soaked up blood again, but the drug kept me alive; I couldnt even faint.
Keep extracting! Vincent ordered the technicians coldly.
The technician nodded and restarted the machine. The metal connector felt like a sharp thorn in my head, buzzing as the machine ran.
I could feel a cold force invading my mind, pulling at my memories and trying to take the buried pieces. I fought with all my strength. I couldnt let it win.

Warning! The subject is resisting memory retrieval!
Warning! Brain waves are abnormal and erratic!
Warning! Brain pressure is rising above safe levels!
The machine kept warning loudly and the screen images warped. Precious memories cracked again and again.
Veins stood out on my forehead and cold sweat mixed with blood at the corner of my mouth, dripping to the floor. My head throbbed with sharp pain; each pulse was agony.
No! We cant keep going! an expert shouted. Captain Newton, if this continues, hell die! Hes just a suspect, not the murderer. We cant take his life! Others quickly agreed.
Yes, we must keep him alive. If he dies, well never find the real murderer!
Hes awful, but he doesnt deserve to die. We should follow procedure.
But many others disagreed.
Procedure? Did he think about procedure when protecting the murderer? Tashas been in the ICU for five years. Who cared about procedure then?
Its better if this scum dies. At least we wont waste food. As long as we catch the murderer, his death doesnt matter!
Yes! Kill him! Avenge Tasha!
The scene fell into chaos again as the two groups argued and even shoved each other. The livestream chat exploded with comments from both sides and the viewer count shot past two hundred million.
Vincent looked at my twisted, pained face. A brief hesitation flashed in his eyes, then turned into pure hatred. He suddenly pulled out his gun and fired into the ceiling.
Quiet, all of you! The gunshot stopped every argument and the room went silent. Even if he dies today, I will uncover the truth! My sisters pain will not be for nothing!
He turned to the technician. Set the machine to full power! And bring me the strongest neurotransmitter!
The technician, pale and unsure, said, Captain Newton, full power already exceeds human limits. Adding more neurotransmitters will burn his brain!
Do as I say! Ill take full responsibility!
The technician, too afraid to refuse, adjusted the machine with shaking hands. Another officer came with a syringe of blue liquid and gave it to Vincent.
Vincent took the syringe, came to me, tore open my uniform collar and injected all the liquid. The neurotransmitter was far stronger than I expected. As soon as it was injected, it felt like a bomb exploded in my brain.
All my defenses collapsed. The machines power flooded my mind, violently stealing my memories. I screamed, my body shaking uncontrollably.
Blood and white foam poured from my mouth; the pain in my head was unbearable. I felt myself slipping into unconsciousness, my body growing so light it seemed I might float away.
But Vincent didnt notice my suffering, his eyes glued to the screen. Keep going! Dont stop! I want to see the crime scene! I want to know who the murderer is!
The machines warnings became louder and more urgent.
Warning! The subjects brain is failing fast!
Warning! Brain death expected in three minutes!
Warning! Stop the extraction immediately!
But no one stopped. They all wanted to know the secret this man had hidden while protecting the murderer for five years.
My shaking worsened; my body felt drained and I slowly collapsed. My mind was fading and confused.
The machine kept digging, pulling out the deepest memories from my heart. I tried to resist, but my body wouldnt obey.
Suddenly, the flickering on the screen stopped and all the fragments formed a clear image.