The heavy wooden doors of the courtroom creaked open with a weight that seemed to echo the years of silence, corruption, and buried truths that had brought everyone here today. The air shifted instantly. Everyone in the packed gallery rose in unison as the judge entered, his black robes trailing behind him, his face carved with gravity.

The gavel struck.

“Court is now in session.”

A silence gripped the hall, sharp and heavy. The scratching of pens on paper and the shuffle of files were the only sounds that dared break through. Reporters and media had been kept outside by strict order, but even within these four walls, the air vibrated with tension.

On one side sat Misthi, her fingers clenched tight against her lap. Her knuckles were pale, but her chin remained high—a fragile yet unbreakable defiance. Beside her sat Ekaksh , eyes glinting with a calm fire, his mere presence radiating dominance. The entire Rathore family formed a solid wall of support around Misthi, their silent strength enough to unsettle the other side.

Across them—the Chauhans, Reddys, Malhotras, and Singh's. Their faces carried masks of confidence, but the cracks of unease glimmered beneath. At the dock stood Atharv and his friends, restless, shoulders stiff with false bravado. Their lawyers bent close, whispering frantic instructions, urging calm. Yet their darting eyes betrayed fear.