Every day, my son and husband finish all the house chores before I even get home.

But only because they're bringing my husband's first love, Sally Sullivan, back for Thanksgiving, I pour boiling water on my son's face. I also kick both my son and husband out when it's 104°F outside.

Desperate to save our son, my husband sprawls across the front porch, begging me to open the door.

"Wanda, open the door! We need to save our son! I only invited Sally over because she saved you once back then. I didn't mean anything else by it!"

"Mom, it hurts!" my son cries. "Mom, can't you kiss me? Mom…"

Meanwhile, I'm slouching on the couch, snacking away as I watch TV.

In the end, my husband can't take it anymore and brings me to the Bad Mom Court for trial.

The moment my memories are extracted, the entire court bursts into tears.

When my new neighbors heard that Bruce Graham and Sean Graham were going to take me to court, all of them volunteered to testify against me.

As soon as I stepped into the courtroom, they hurled anything in their hands at me alongside vicious curses.

"You cruel bitch!" someone shrieked. "It was over 104°F that day. Sean could've died of heatstroke! I can't believe you're his mother. You're absolutely heartless!"

"Exactly! How could she pour boiling water on the boy? Doesn't she know how delicate a child's skin is? She should've been burned alive!"

"You guys have no idea," another neighbor said. "Back when Wanda almost died in a car accident, I saw Ms. Sullivan drag her out of the wrecked car. She literally saved her life!"

"Not only did she refuse to thank Ms. Sullivan, but she even forbade her own husband and son from thanking her. She broke their legs and locked them up at home like they were criminals!"

Despite their sharp criticism, I felt no guilt whatsoever. I wiped the liquid off my face and flung a bottle thrown at me straight at Sally Sullivan, sitting on the plaintiff's side. I then scooped up other things from the ground and hurled them at her next.

"I never asked her to save me. She asked for it, sucking up to me like we were friends. How is any of this my fault?" I spat. "Look at her. I literally threw that in her face, and she's not even reacting. Isn't she just begging for it?"

"She's just that much of a bitch, so she should act like one," I continued. "Sally, come lick the filth off my face and eat those dirty food!"

My relentless jabs sent the crowd into a frenzy. Some of them, who were more agitated, even tried to lunge at me.

The judge had no choice but to slam the gavel, restoring order in the court.

"This trial will proceed under the principle of 'he who makes the claim bears the burden of proof.' The plaintiffs, the Grahams, are suing the defendant, Wanda Collins, on the grounds of malice. In accordance with the trial protocol, the plaintiffs' relevant memories will be extracted as evidence for prosecution.

"If the plaintiffs win this case, the defendant will be sentenced to death. The court will officially dissolve her familial ties with the Graham family. All of her assets will be inherited by the plaintiffs, and the court will approve Ms. Sally Sullivan's marriage into the family.

"If the defendant wins, the court will dissolve her familial ties with the plaintiffs. In addition, all the Graham family assets currently held by the plaintiffs will be transferred to the defendant.

"Plaintiffs, do you wish to proceed with this trial?"

Hearing this, Sally flinched. Flanked by Bruce and Sean, she clutched Bruce's arm and put on a false, gentle smile.

"Bruce, Wanda is family. Can't you clear up this misunderstanding? There's no need to make a scene for my sake. I feel terrible. Don't you agree, Sean?"

Her words made Sean falter.

"Mom, I didn't want it to come to this either," he said tentatively. "As long as you let us bring Sally back for Thanksgiving and properly apologize, we'll ask to dismiss the case."

Bruce glared at me. "Wanda, at this point, can't you just stop being so arrogant for once and apologize to Sally? Admit you're wrong, then Sean and I will let this slide."

I snorted and folded my arms. "You two really are a match made in hell—a bastard and a bitch make a perfect family. I hope you'll get stuck with each other for the rest of your lives!

"Stop the nonsense. If you want to take me to trial, go ahead. I've got a manicure appointment to get to."

A rapid series of shrill chimes echoed through the courtroom—a sign that the Grahams had had enough bickering with me and were eager to begin the trial.

Once the plaintiffs responded, the judge immediately activated the memory extractor and linked it to their brains.

"Given the plaintiffs' urgency, this trial will connect the memories of all witnesses at once to carry out comprehensive evidence collection."

As the words fell, the live stream feed flickered a few times before sharpening into focus.

…

The dark gray bedroom door opened, revealing me lying sick in bed while scrolling through reels on my phone.

Bruce walked in carrying a basin of water, with Sean following behind him, holding a towel.

"Mom, let us wash your feet."

"Wanda, let us wash your feet."

They both spoke in unison, their voices tender and soft. They looked particularly gentle with me in the footage. Bruce even tested the water temperature for me.

I sat up and curtly said, "I'm not feeling well today. You two should wash my feet together."

Neither showed a hint of objection. They even smiled.

"Wanda, you've worked hard. It's only right for me to do this for you."

"That's right," I said coolly.

In the next instant, Sean scooted up to me and asked innocently, "Mommy, shouldn't we also invite Sally over to thank her in person for saving you during the car accident—"

Before he could finish, I slapped my wet feet hard across both their faces and sneered.

"Sure. Only if each of you takes one foot and licks it clean."

Bruce and Sean exchanged a glance. Defiance instantly filled their eyes. It was as if they were trying to pierce a hole through me with their glares alone.

But I held their gazes, unfazed. My stance made it clear that I wouldn't agree to their suggestion unless they licked my feet.

Eventually, they had no choice but to lean toward my feet.

Just as they were a few inches away from my toes, I suddenly kicked them to the ground. Sean's palm scraped against the floor and split open.

I looked at them condescendingly, pretending to be unaware of their apparent misery. "You think filthy mouths like yours are worthy of touching my feet? Just drink the water I washed my feet with instead."

With that, I stood up and dumped the entire basin of water over their heads.

The screen turned black.

The audience in the courtroom was livid.

"Skin disease isn't the only issue. If anyone gets exposed to such contaminated water, they'll definitely get diarrhea!"

"How heartless can she possibly be? She actually had the heart to make her child drink the water she washed her feet with."

"Wanda's a cruel bitch. That's literally water she washed her feet with! Who knows what kind of fungus she's got? The kid could get a full-on skin infection!"

I shot a glare at the agitated crowd and snapped, "That's none of your concern. Even if the water was contaminated, they were willing participants.

"Or do you want some too? It's too bad that dirty water isn't going to satisfy you. But I can still stuff your face with my shoe!"

I yanked off my shoe and hurled it at my neighbors.

At that moment, as if to validate their claims, a hospital ward scene from the extracted memories materialized on screen.

Sean was lying in bed, his eyes red and swollen as he sobbed through the phone. "Mom, Dad and I got acute gastroenteritis from drinking the water you washed your feet with last night. Can you come see us at the hospital?"

Bruce snatched the phone from him. "Wanda, Sean's been craving your stew. Shouldn't you at least visit him, no matter how busy you are? You're still his mother, after all."

On the other end, I seemed occupied and irritable.

"What the hell are you mumbling about?" I yelled. "Speak up!"

"I said that Sean and I are both sick…"

As he spoke, both their stomachs suddenly gurgled. Bright streaks of blood pooled beneath them on their bedsheets, much like signs of their withering health.

Seeing blood gush out of their backsides, Bruce was terrified.

"Wanda, I don't care what you're doing now. Come to the hospital this instant," he sputtered. "Sean's bleeding out of his butt—only because he drank the water you washed your feet with!"

Beside him, Sean had curled up on the bed.

"Mom…" His voice was trembling. "My stomach hurts. Can you please come and make me feel better?

"I'm so scared, Mom. I'm scared I'll bleed to death and never see you again… Mom, can you please come and see me one last time?"

I scoffed on the other end of the phone. "It's just some bleeding. It's not like you're about to die.

"But if you really do die, I'll come when the hospital calls me to collect your corpse."