As they approached the courthouse, Marinette and Gurvi slowed their steps. The massive doors loomed ahead, but something else made them stop in their tracks.

The entire school was there.

Teachers, students, parents—everyone they knew had gathered outside the courthouse. There were murmurs, whispers, and stunned silence as people took in the sight of them.

Gurvi's clothes were drenched in dried blood, his turban slightly loose from the fight. His arms bore fresh scars, and his movements were stiff with pain. Marinette, though mostly unharmed, looked just as shaken—her cheeks still streaked with tears, her clothes wrinkled and stained from where she had held onto Gurvi.

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Alya stepped forward, eyes wide in horror. "What happened to you two?" she breathed.

Tom and Sabine rushed toward them, their faces filled with worry and anger. "Mon dieu—who did this?" Sabine demanded, already reaching out to check Gurvi for injuries.

But before Marinette or Gurvi could answer, the students started realizing something.

They had come here to support Gurvi in court, thinking they were just fighting a legal battle. But now, seeing them like this, bloodied and exhausted—it hit them.

This wasn't just a case.

This was war.

Gurvi looked at all of them, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he lifted his gaze toward the courthouse doors.

"We don't have time," he murmured, his voice rough. "The trial is about to start."

Marinette grabbed his hand, squeezing it tight.

And together, they walked inside.

As the courtroom settled, whispers filled the air. The judge, lawyers, and various officials were preparing for the hearing when the doors swung open.

Gurvi stepped in.

The room went silent.

Mahendra, seated confidently beside his lawyer, turned to look—and his face drained of color. His eyes widened in disbelief, his fingers gripping the edge of the table as if trying to steady himself.

Gurvi was alive.

Not only that—he had walked in himself.

His clothes were still bloodied, his turban slightly askew, fresh scars marking his skin. He should've been dead—Mahendra's men had assured him of that. And yet, here he was, standing tall, his piercing eyes locked onto his uncle.

The judge furrowed his brows. "Mr. Singh… what happened to you?"

Gurvi exhaled sharply, then spoke, his voice unwavering.

"An attempted murder, Your Honor."

The room erupted in gasps. Marinette, standing beside him, held his hand tighter, her own expression filled with fury and determination.

Mahendra clenched his jaw, his confidence cracking.

This trial wasn't going to be as easy as he had thought.

The judge leaned forward, his expression serious. "Mr. Singh, attempted murder? Are you saying someone tried to kill you before this hearing?"

Gurvi clenched his fists, still feeling the dull ache of his injuries. "Yes, Your Honor. Twenty armed men ambushed me on my way here." His voice was steady but filled with restrained fury. "They weren't there to scare me—they were there to kill me."

Gasps filled the courtroom. The teachers, students, and parents in attendance murmured among themselves. The reporters, already present for the high-profile case, immediately began scribbling notes and recording footage.

The judge's expression darkened as he turned toward Mahendra. "Mr. Singh, do you have anything to say about this accusation?"

Mahendra forced a chuckle, masking his panic. "Your Honor, this is absurd. My nephew is clearly trying to gain sympathy. If there was an attack, where is the proof?"

Marinette, still holding Gurvi's hand tightly, snapped, "The proof is on his body!" She gestured to Gurvi's torn, bloodied clothes and the fresh scars on his arms. "Do you think he just decided to decorate himself with stab wounds for attention?"

The judge looked back at Gurvi, his gaze softening slightly. "Did you report this attack?"

Gurvi nodded. "Yes. The police have already been informed. There were witnesses. And if you check the street cameras near the court, you'll see exactly what happened."

The tension in the room thickened.

The judge exhaled sharply. "Very well. We will ensure an investigation into this matter. But for now, let's proceed with the case at hand."

Mahendra swallowed hard, but for the first time in his life, he wasn't in control.

And Gurvi wasn't backing down.

As the hearing officially began, Tom Dupain was called to the stand. He walked forward with steady steps, adjusting his suit jacket before sitting down. The judge peered at him over his glasses.

"Mr. Dupain, you and your wife have been advocating for the guardianship of Gurvinder Singh. Could you explain your relationship with him and why you believe he should remain under your care?"

Tom took a deep breath, glancing toward Gurvi and Marinette before speaking. "Your Honor, Gurvinder has been living with us for months now. He's not just some boy who rents a room—he's family. My wife and I have watched over him, supported him, and cared for him as our own. And we want to legally make him a part of our family."

The opposing lawyer, representing Mahendra, stepped forward. "Mr. Dupain, while your intentions seem noble, isn't it true that Mr. Singh here has a legal guardian—his uncle? How can you justify interfering in a family matter?"

Tom's jaw tightened. "With all due respect, sir, family doesn't treat their own like slaves. Gurvinder was subjected to years of forced labor, physical abuse, and neglect. My wife and I aren't interfering—we're saving him."

Murmurs spread across the courtroom. Mahendra shifted in his seat, his fingers tapping against the desk.

The judge raised a hand to silence the room. "Mr. Dupain, do you have any evidence of this abuse?"

Tom nodded firmly. "Yes, Your Honor. Witnesses, photographs, medical records. Everything my wife and I have gathered since Gurvi came into our care."

The courtroom doors opened, and officers entered, handing over a file to the judge. He flipped through the documents, his expression growing increasingly grim.

The opposing lawyer cleared his throat. "But Mr. Dupain, how can we be sure this isn't a case of exaggeration? That maybe Gurvinder was just… disciplined harshly?"

Tom's fists clenched at the word disciplined, but his voice remained calm. "Your Honor, I run a bakery. I've had young interns before. I know what hard work looks like, and I know what abuse looks like. What Gurvi suffered wasn't discipline—it was torture."

The judge turned toward Mahendra. "Mr. Singh, do you wish to respond to these accusations?"

Mahendra adjusted his tie, forcing a smirk. "Your Honor, I see what's happening here. This is all a clever attempt to turn my nephew against me. He was a troubled boy, running away, fighting. Of course, I had to discipline him. But I never abused him."

Gurvi's fists tightened, his breathing shallow. Marinette placed a hand over his, grounding him.

The judge nodded. "Understood. We will hear further evidence. Call the next witness."

And so, the battle for the truth continued.

Mahendra walked to the stand, straightening his suit with an air of confidence. He acted as if he had already won, as if his words alone could rewrite history. The judge looked at him sternly.

"Mr. Mahendra Singh, you are being accused of child abuse, forced labor, and endangering a minor. How do you respond to these allegations?"

Mahendra scoffed, shaking his head. "Your Honor, this is all a fabrication. I raised that boy when no one else would. He is ungrateful. He has always been a troubled child, violent, disobedient. And now, because he has found sympathizers, he paints me as a villain?"

The opposing lawyer nodded. "Let's discuss that, then. What can you tell us about Gurvinder's past?"

Mahendra leaned forward, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Your Honor, let me tell you the truth about this boy. His parents? He killed them."

A stunned silence fell over the courtroom. A cold, sharp breath escaped Marinette. Gurvi, who had been gripping his knee tightly, froze.

The judge's eyes narrowed. "Explain yourself, Mr. Singh."

Mahendra nodded, as if he had been waiting for this moment. "It's all so tragic, really. My dear brother and sister-in-law died in a landslide, or so people believe. But the truth? They were with him. Only he survived. Tell me, doesn't that seem suspicious?"

Murmurs spread through the courtroom like wildfire.

Mahendra continued, his voice gaining confidence. "A boy so small, so weak, surviving a disaster that killed two grown adults? That's not luck. That's guilt. I have always suspected that he must have done something—perhaps ran off, left them behind, or worse…"

He let the last word hang in the air like poison.

Gurvi's breathing became shallow, his heartbeat loud in his ears. He had heard whispers like this before. People questioning how he had survived when his parents hadn't. He had lived with that guilt his entire life.

Marinette's hand shot up, gripping his tightly. She wouldn't let him spiral.

The lawyer raised a brow. "That's a heavy accusation, Mr. Singh. Do you have any proof?"

Mahendra spread his hands. "Proof? I only have my suspicions. But isn't it convenient that he never speaks of what happened that day?"

The judge sighed, rubbing his temples. "Enough speculation. Do you have any concrete evidence of Gurvinder committing a crime?"

Mahendra hesitated—just a fraction of a second. "No, but—"

"Then sit down." The judge's voice was firm. "You will not throw baseless accusations to deflect from the charges against you."

The murmurs turned against Mahendra now.

Gurvi finally found his voice, low and shaking with restrained fury. "You are the only monster in this courtroom."

Mahendra sneered but said nothing.

The judge straightened. "Next witness."

Sabine stepped up to the stand, her face calm but determined. She had spent months preparing for this moment, and no amount of twisting from Mahendra's lawyer would shake her.

The opposing lawyer, a slick man with a sharp suit and a colder smile, adjusted his glasses. "Mrs. Cheng, you and your husband took in Gurvinder Singh, correct?"

Sabine nodded. "Yes."

The lawyer tilted his head. "Did you ever consider that you were harboring an illegal immigrant?"

Murmurs rippled through the courtroom. Sabine didn't flinch. "Gurvinder is a child who was abandoned and abused. His legal status does not erase what he has suffered."

The lawyer smirked. "Oh, but it does raise concerns, doesn't it? If his legal status is uncertain, why should we even trust anything he says? He doesn't belong here—"

Tom stood up. "He belongs with us!" His voice boomed through the courtroom, filled with unshakable conviction. "That boy is our son."

The judge banged the gavel. "Order in the court."

The lawyer, unbothered, continued, "Mrs. Cheng, your family fought for this case. Why? What do you gain?"

Sabine's eyes softened. "A son. A chance to give him the life he deserves."

The lawyer exhaled through his nose, clearly frustrated. "But why go this far for a boy you barely knew?"

Sabine looked directly at Mahendra. "Because he went this far to destroy him."

Mahendra's jaw tightened.

The lawyer sighed and turned to the judge. "Your Honor, my client believes this entire case is a distraction from a larger issue—illegal immigration. If this boy is here under false pretenses, shouldn't we be discussing that instead?"

The judge's eyes narrowed. "Mr. Singh is here because there is evidence of abuse and exploitation. If you wish to challenge his immigration status, you can do so through the appropriate channels, but it is not the focus of this case."

The defending lawyer sat down, clearly displeased.

Sabine glanced at Marinette and Gurvi, offering them a reassuring nod before stepping down.

The fight wasn't over yet. But they weren't losing.

Mahendra walked up confidently, adjusting his suit. He had spent years lying, manipulating, and covering his tracks. He wasn't going to lose to a bunch of sentimental fools.

The defending lawyer smirked. "Mr. Mahendra, let's clear things up, shall we? You took in Gurvinder after his parents died, correct?"

Mahendra sighed, acting like a concerned guardian. "Yes, I did. Out of the goodness of my heart. I raised him, fed him, gave him shelter."

The lawyer nodded. "And yet, you're being accused of child abuse, child labor, and attempted murder. What do you say to these outrageous claims?"

Mahendra shook his head. "Lies. All lies. Gurvinder was a problematic child. He was always violent, always getting into trouble. I tried my best to raise him, but he never listened. He ran away from home and now wants to blame me for his failures."

The courtroom murmured. Some people seemed uncertain now. Could Gurvi really be the liar here?

Mahendra continued, his voice heavy with fake sadness. "I took him in when no one else would. And how does he repay me? By dragging my name through the mud?"

The defending lawyer stepped closer. "And what about his criminal history? He's been in fights, has no legal documentation, and—let's be honest—he's been involved with violence even recently. How do we know he isn't just a dangerous, ungrateful boy?"

The murmurs in the courtroom grew louder.

But then, Mahendra's lawyer smirked and added, "And let's not forget the most unbelievable part of this whole thing—he was attacked on the way here. Twenty armed men supposedly tried to kill him, and yet, here he is. Alive. Standing. How? How does a teenager survive a murder attempt like that?"

The murmurs became louder.

Mahendra nodded, playing along. "That's a good question. My nephew has always been violent. Maybe he planned it. Maybe it was just another one of his tricks to gain sympathy."

The judge raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting that Mr. Singh staged his own attack?"

Mahendra shrugged. "I'm saying nothing about Gurvinder surprises me anymore."

The public murmurs now carried doubt.

Was Gurvinder really just a victim? Or was he more dangerous than they thought?

Marinette took a deep breath as her name was called. Her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn't afraid of speaking, but this was different. This wasn't just some school presentation—this was Gurvi's future.

As she stepped onto the stand, she could feel everyone's eyes on her. The murmurs of the courtroom faded into silence.

The lawyer approached her with a calm, calculated look. "Miss Dupain-Cheng, you are a close friend of Gurvinder Singh, correct?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"How close?" The lawyer's voice had a sharp edge, as if leading her into a trap.

Marinette straightened her shoulders. "We're best friends."

The lawyer raised an eyebrow. "Best friends… or something more?"

A murmur ran through the courtroom. Marinette clenched her fists. They were trying to discredit her.

"We care about each other," she said firmly, ignoring the warmth rising in her cheeks. "But that has nothing to do with the case."

The lawyer smirked, stepping closer. "You seem quite emotional about this. How do we know you're not just defending him because of your feelings?"

Marinette's heart pounded. They were twisting everything.

She took a shaky breath and looked directly at Mahendra. She wasn't afraid anymore.

"I'm defending him because I know the truth." Her voice was clear, unwavering. "I saw the scars on his back, the way he flinched when people raised their voices. I heard the stories of how he was forced to fight like an animal just to survive. This isn't about emotions. This is about justice."

The courtroom was silent.

The lawyer adjusted his tie. "If Gurvinder's life was so terrible, why didn't he come forward earlier?"

Marinette's jaw tightened. "Because he was afraid. Because no one ever believed him."

The lawyer smirked again. "And yet, somehow, he found the courage now?"

Marinette glared at him. "Because now, he has people who won't let him suffer alone."

She turned to look at Gurvi. Their eyes met.

The lawyer sighed and crossed his arms. "One last question, Miss Dupain-Cheng."

Marinette braced herself.

"Do you truly believe Gurvinder is innocent?"

She didn't hesitate.

"With every piece of my heart."

The courtroom erupted into murmurs again.

Mahendra walked up to the stand, his face carefully composed, but there was tension in his posture. He knew the situation was slipping from his control.

The prosecutor wasted no time. "Mr. Mahendra, earlier today, you strongly implied that Gurvinder Singh was a violent criminal, even suggesting he was responsible for his own parents' deaths. Yet, here he is, standing in this courtroom, after barely surviving a brutal attack just moments before the hearing. Do you have anything to say about that?"

Mahendra forced a scoff. "It is unfortunate, but I have nothing to do with it. I did not order any attack."

The prosecutor leaned forward. "Strange, isn't it? A young man who was already set to appear in court—a man you claim is the real criminal—was nearly murdered on his way here. And yet, despite suffering grievous wounds, he still chose to come and testify. Almost as if he knew he had to fight for his truth. But tell me, Mr. Mahendra… why would a guilty man do that?"

Mahendra clenched his jaw. "I wouldn't know. Maybe it's a desperate act to gain sympathy."

The prosecutor didn't back down. "Or maybe it's because he has nothing to hide. Unlike you."

Mahendra narrowed his eyes. "I have done nothing wrong."

The prosecutor smirked. "We'll let the evidence speak for itself, then." He turned to the judge. "Your Honor, we would now like to present further testimony regarding Mahendra's past crimes and his treatment of Gurvinder Singh."

Mahendra stiffened. He knew what was coming. And for the first time in years, he felt fear.

The judge adjusted his glasses and looked over the courtroom. "Given the intensity of this case and the serious allegations at hand, the court will now take a lunch break. We will reconvene shortly to hear Gurvinder Singh's testimony and review any further evidence."

A murmur spread through the room as people slowly stood up. Tom and Sabine immediately rushed to Gurvi's side, their eyes filled with concern. Marinette stuck close to him, her hand gripping his tightly, as if afraid to let go.

Mahendra exhaled, trying to mask his irritation, but the slight clench of his jaw gave him away. He knew the next part of the hearing could be disastrous for him.

As the court emptied for the break, Alya, Nino, Adrien, and several of their classmates approached Gurvi. "Dude, are you okay?" Nino asked, his voice laced with worry.

"You look like you just walked out of a war," Adrien added, eyeing the dried blood on Gurvi's clothes.

Gurvi exhaled, running a hand over his face. "It feels like I did."

Marinette squeezed his arm. "You don't have to do this right now. You can rest—"

He cut her off with a small smile. "No, Mari. I have to finish this. I have to end it."

She nodded, eyes filled with unsaid emotions. She knew he wasn't just talking about the court case. He was fighting for his life, his freedom, and his future.