Those without freak powers were held in a separate hearing. The room felt smaller, quieter—Zane noticed immediately that fewer of them had been at if their role in this case mattered less.

Only five of them had been called to testify, their names flagged during earlier interviews. Besides Zane, that meant Hanna, Nelson, Yara, and Mark.

While they had all provided brief statements to the police—like most had—he knew something was going on when the courtroom door suddenly burst open before the hearing even started.

"One of the freaks accessed information," someone blurted out.

All five of them just stared at each other with furrowed eyebrows.

One of the lawyers stepped forward to speak to the person who had panicked.

Zane's first thought was simple: who had access to something useful—Scarlett or Greyson? He dismissed them both almost immediately. Neither of them fit anymore. One other name did.

"The crackheads," Zane said quietly.

"Excuse the interruption," the lawyer named Brock said.

Their own lawyer had told them that it's mainly about what jobs you did and what you did during that time.

The police had been asking questions about what happened that day or about who caused the conflict. All five of them would be the most charged out of any of them, unless they did side charges for those less involved.

It's not even much of a court hearing, but a discussion on what led to Simcoe becoming ash. It's all to pass the blame on them for the ruins of everything that has happened.

"We'd like to call up Zane Wilson," Brock said.

He approached the wooden stand.

The courtroom felt smaller than expected. Fewer spectators filled the benches, and the reduced jury made it feel less like a trial and more like a rehearsal for something worse.

Brock began his questioning with a direct approach. "Zane, many people recognize you as someone who stepped during the challenging times, particularly for your contributions to the fire department. Could you elaborate on the certain duties when providing assistance?"

"I used the firehose when houses or buildings caught fire while we still had electricity. I gave resources like blankets and pillows to the daycare when it was still there," Zane admitted.

At first, he'd led the fire department. When Jason stepped down, Zane took over completely—organizing trench system, forming response groups, and enforcing whatever rules to keep them alive.

"You took property from homes without consent or ownership verification. That is correct, isn't it?" Brock pressed.

"I've admitted it because if I hadn't, we'd be burned to death by snow or fires. I've carried bodies to be buried or dug trenches so people could stay warm when we were staring death in the face. There was a lot of blood, organs, and waste to dump out as well."

People in the small crowd looked sick as they listened.

Inflammatory Death could have killed him, but he was one of the lucky survivors. Even if it had been difficult fighting through everything, he had been the one person they would turn to for advice.

"And this happened was the storm your peers have mentioned?" Brock probed further.

Zane nodded his head. "I'll admit I've had to make cement blocks to block large holes that killed many children."

"Many of you were found to be driving underage, as the legal driving age in Canada is sixteen, but only when accompanied by an adult. We've also received reports about gun use among youth and have obtained photographs documenting some incidents."

At that moment, a television screen was rolled into view as Brock tapped the screen. It flickered to life, displaying an image of Eden holding a gun and her innocent smile.

Brock then pulled up a video recording capturing the deadly fight between Ashley, Divina, and Cassandra occurred. The footage showed as the three burned brightly in the sky while zooming in on those holding weapons on the ground.

"I've had to bury many who were shot. Without weapons, most of us wouldn't have lasted," Zane said.

"That's all," Brock said, turning off the television.

He knew this court hearing would be short compared to the ones with the freaks, where it could go on for ages with it all looping back to Ashley, Divina, and the substance.

If Bella hadn't been the sacrifice, she'd be talking about everything at Uden or what happened with Eden that sent her to isolation. Many would be here, but sacrifices had to be made for them all.

"I'd like to call Hanna Bevan," Brock announced.

Hanna rose gracefully from her seat, as she approached the the stand. She fixed her gaze on Brock, wearing a flat expression. She didn't seem impressed with how everything was going or even Brock's behaviour as a lawyer.

"Hanna," Brock began. "You didn't start helping until later on when the storm started. What types of jobs did you have to do?"

"I gave medication and helped with the burns," Hanna replied. "There were some things I couldn't help, such as one girl going through drug withdrawals."

Ilya was going through withdrawals, which was why she constantly went to the infirmary. Nobody knew how to help someone because they weren't nurses. Emma couldn't magically heal her, and refusing drugs didn't work due to a drug dealer roaming.

"Where did all this medication come from?" Brock asked.

"Not a clue," Hanna said. "They were already there when I arrived. Probably taken from the pharmacy or scavenged from homes."

Brock looked suspiciously at her, as if she had admitted to murder. Hanna would have been one who wouldn't have broken a law, unless they counted using cold medication as drugs.

"Your report ruled street-level overdose causes. Do you know where Ilya obtained these substances?"

Nobody knew except the crackhead herself who has illegal drugs. One whose mind lived in space but could get away with a crime with ease.

"I didn't until Zane told me after Ilya overdosed," Hanna stated.

The overdose cast a heavy shadow over the daycare, affecting not only the children but those who volunteered there. It was dangerous, but Layla got them and overdosed just like Ilya.

Zane didn't know if Ilya's death was a suicide, but he assumed it was not due to her drug addiction. It's a dark topic, and they shouldn't have had to learn from how young all of them were.

Then again, Mia knew about drug smuggling when she was just twelve years old. While people understood the dangers with drugs, once someone fell into the grip on addiction, it was hard to get out.

"We conducted some research on the drug, and it ended up being Xanax," Brock implied.

Rumours circulated that Mia was a drug dealer, but Zane assumed she didn't take the drugs but used them for money. If she buys and deals, she'd know a wide range of what she could give.

Zane watched Hanna keep her gaze steady. "You'd have to ask whoever dealt them about the drugs. I wasn't the seller," she said.

Brock leaned forward, his eyebrows raised. "Yes, but did you have any interactions with Mia Ortiz giving the infirmary drugs?"

Hanna shook her head. Zane knew she wasn't lying. Mia never stepped foot in the infirmary unless it was to see Bryce.

"No. Mia never gave anything to the infirmary. Everyone knew her drugs could be lethal," she finished.

Brock nodded with a sly grin before tripping backwards.

"Mr. Ross, are you okay?" the female judge asked.

Zane knew it wasn't pure tiredness that caused him to trip. He had seen him drinking coffee before this whole thing started and looked wide awake.

"Why's everything spinning?" Brock mumbled, gripping the wooden table for support.

Was his ambush on Hanna motivated by Mia's drugs? Zane knew that Mia's drugs had been burned in the fire at Uden, but she can be rationally smart when it comes to drugs.

Brock then collapsed to the ground, his cup of coffee spilling across the polished table. People from the small crowd panicked while someone called an ambulance.

"There's a drug in his coffee," someone said.

Well, Zane never expected someone in a courtroom to be drugged.

"Court is adjourned for a security and medical review," the judge said.

Zane followed the others out into the hallway, his eyes glued to the chaos inside the courtroom. Paramedics moved quickly over Brock, and a cold sense of disbelief ran through him.

"I bet he got drugs from Mia," Hanna whispered. "He keeps asking about her, but I don't know anything."

His gaze drifted toward the freaks' group returning from break. Jason's knitted eyebrows made Zane wonder if the supernatural kids even noticed the lawyer's collapse.

"You guys are already on your break?" Jason asked.

"The one lawyer passed out from drugs," Yara said.

"I had someone ask me what some drug did, but I lied," Mia whispered with a laugh. "They were sleep medications that Eden used on the housewife."

"Did you sell them?" Zane asked.

"Nope, but I know drugs like a dictionary," Mia breezed.

"They finished some statements, but adults are tense. Eden kept that hospital information about Ashley, and they are all stressed," Jason said.

Zane watched Mia stumble back over to Eden, who was wearing handcuffs.

"Doesn't that get us a breakthrough? It basically admits none of this was our fault," Nelson said.

"They are having Bella's mom speak next. Nevaeh is basically hearing everything, which is that they definitely want Greyson and me charged, along with the crackheads," Jason sighed.

"I thought they had to decide as one big group who is and isn't facing charges?" Yara inquired.

"It's about what they admit for damage, but we'd have to pay millions for all the destruction in Simcoe," Zane stated.

"Highlighter, our trial isn't over yet," Bryce called out.

They watched as River stiffly walked in the opposite direction of where the freak courtroom was located.

"They want to hold my court hearing," he trembled.

Were they even allowed to pull someone out of a court hearing for another one?

"Get the money so we can go to Dairy Queen afterwards!" Mia exclaimed.

They would be one court hearing worse than the freaks and the helpers. Zane knew that openly discussing dead bodies was a different field than revealing trauma.

River was going against his own mother because Cassandra had uploaded a memory to the police officers, which they vividly saw in their minds.

"I hope he'll be okay. He's probably one of the most talked about as well," Yara said sadly.

Their lawyer approached them and informed them that it was okay to go back in. There wouldn't be anything more eventful that Zane could think of, unless they admit that it's the pharmacy's fault in Simcoe.

As they walked back in, they noticed a different lawyer instead of Brock. Zane assumed they didn't have time to start an investigation but put it on using drugs.

"We'll start where we left off," the judge stated.

Zane wasn't sure if it would get them anywhere other than information about charges and jail time.

River sat outside the courtroom with a male lawyer named Louis. He was one of Cecile's previous lawyers in the past, but he had either left or been fired. River didn't know the details, but he knew that Louis wanted to help him fight.

This wasn't a case that could be settled with money, as some people claimed that the vivid memory was a result of Cassandra's abilities. That's why he saw some of the police officers from that day, but his body still shook with fear.

"River, I understand that this is a very stressful situation for you. You'll need to explain what happened and any other signs of abuse or unusual behaviour from your mother," Louis explained.

River's chest felt like it was being squeezed. This wasn't just stress that—it was pure terror. He buried his face in his hands, bouncing his knee so fast it felt like it might shake right off.

Every memory from those days came flooding back, when his eating disorder had taken control of him.

He had managed to overcome it when Cecile was gone, but she had warned him not to eat large portions of junk food. She had also sexually assaulted him while she was intoxicated, leaving him trembling and crying.

As the doors to the courtroom opened, River looked up. Despite gaining trust from others and finding the love he needed, he was still scared.

He slowly stood up, but his legs felt weak and shaky, as he looked around at Cecile's staff, some of whom he remembered and others whom he didn't know.

When he saw Cecile, she didn't look angry.

That was what terrified him the most.

She watched him with the same expression she used during photo shoots when he wasn't standing correctly.

He collapsed back onto his chair.

Nevaeh's father was also present.

He spotted some reporters near the back of the courtroom along with several along fashion executives pretending not to stare at him directly.

"All rise!" the male judge called out.

River had to use the table to support himself as he stood up.

The supernatural trial felt terrifying.

This felt worse somehow.

"You may be seated," the judge said.

The courtroom felt suffocatingly warm.

River's knee bounced uncontrollably beneath the table while fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Each tap of the foot felt like a tiny countdown to the nightmare he feared reliving.

He wanted Cecile to be held accountable, but a part of him wished he could vanish, hide from the memories clawing back at him.

He was a child who could be handed millions of dollars with at least four houses from different areas. The cottage, a mansion in Toronto, and two beach houses in Hawaii and Cuba. There were even jets, airplanes, and limos that could be handed to someone who hated modelling.

"We are here today for the case of Cecile Dunlop and claims of sexual assault and child abuse against her son," the judge began.

He glanced toward River gently.

"If at any point you need a recess, the court will allow it."

River nodded without looking up.

Cecile's lawyer, Tori, stood up. River knew her; she had been one of the people who had been intoxicated at the afterparty at cottage on the night of the assault.

"We would like to call River Dunlop to the stand," Tori said, causing River's eyes to widened. He wobbled as he stood up, avoiding eye contact with her until he reached the stand. "River, we want to know what you remember from that night at the summer party when that incident happened."

"There were a lot of people drunk after a celebration at some show in Toronto. I remember having cake because it was my birthday the next day, on June 8th, almost two years ago. There was dancing and snacks mainly," he said, but his mind was elsewhere.

Each word dragged him back to that night—the muffled laughter, the smell of alcohol, the sudden weight of Cecile on him.

"People mentioned seeing you leave with your mother."

River flinched slightly at the word.

Mother.

The title didn't feel right anymore.

His hands trembled uncontrollably. He clenched them in his lap, trying to push down the panic rising in his chest. Memories clawed forward: her warning about food, the sneer in her eyes, the helplessness he felt.

"Some staff told me to bring Cecile to her room because she vomited," he admitted, his voice tight.

Tori hesitated before asking the next question.

"River... what happened after you brought her to her room?" she pressed.

His heart raced as he pressed his lips together, struggling to find the will to speak.

His hands shook as he gripped the edges of the stand. "I... I brought her to her room, but..." His voice faltered.

He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but the images flooded back anyway.

He swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. "She... she pinned me against the wall. My arms were over my head, and when I asked her what she was doing... she didn't answer..."

River heard his own voice speaking but it sounded far away, like someone else was answering the questions for him.

The courtroom lights blurred together overhead.

Every detail buried for so long clawed its way to the surface.

"Then... she started removing my clothes and..."

River's voice cracked apart.

Somewhere behind him, someone quietly cursed under their breath.

Another chair creaked.

Nobody in the courtroom looked comfortable anymore.

Tears streamed down his cheeks because it was all scarring. The bubble had memories that were haunting, but the sexual assault broke something inside of him.

"Your honour, I think that's enough from him," Louis called.

"We'll answer more questions later," Tori said.

By the time he stepped down from the stand, his legs felt so weak he thought he might collapse completely.

When he sat, he put his face on the table because it was all so vivid.

Was Tori doing that on purpose, or did she want Cecile behind bars? He could barely deal with a girl poking him when everything started because of what his mother did.

"I would like to call Roger Bolton to the stand," Louis announced."Roger, word is it true that you were one of those who claimed the entire memory as your own from Cassandra Newman-Russell?" Louis inquired.

Several people in the courtroom stiffened at Cassandra's name.

Mutant abilities in legal cases were still controversial enough to make headlines.

"Every detail that River has described, but much more explicit," Roger confirmed.

"Would you consider the memory you obtained to be a form of sexual assault?" Louis probed.

"I've investigated assaults for seventeen years," Roger said carefully. "What Cassandra shared wasn't vague or dreamlike. The sensory detail was consistent with lived memory."

Tori immediately stood. "And yet those memories were transferred through a mutant ability."

"Correct," Roger replied.

"So they could theoretically be manipulated?"

The courtroom tensed.

"Thank you," Louis acknowledged.

Part of River still feared somebody would ask what he did wrong.

Why didn't he fight harder.

Why he didn't stop her.

Every time someone shuffled papers, his stomach twisted.

What if they had fake photos?

Edited recordings?

What if nobody believed him once Cecile started talking?

"I would now like to call up Joyce Walters to the stand," Tori announced.

River knew who Joyce was. It was one of Cecile's models who would lie out of any problem. She had even lied about knowing the truth about his eating disorder in order to protect Cecile's reputation, not his safety.

"Joyce, were you aware of any abuse towards Cecile's son?" Tori questioned.

"Cecile always acted kind to her son whenever I saw them together," Joyce responded.

River looked down at the brown table, knowing that it was all an act.

He remembered magazine covers calling Cecile "fashion's most devoted mother."

He almost laughed.

Almost.

"And at the party before the incident happened, did you witness Cecile getting drunk?" Tori continued.

River remembered from that party that Joyce and Cecile were in the kitchen, laughing and taking shots of vodka together.

"No, I don't," Joyce said.

"If I may, Joyce," Louis started. "People at the party claimed you were doing vodka shots with Cecile in the kitchen. Is this true?"

"Yes, but I was only a little tipsy," Joyce admitted.

River remembered her passing out on the kitchen floor and their maid having to guide her to the downstairs bedroom.

"Thank you," Tori said.

"I'd like to call Nick Wincliff," Louis said.

River recalled that Nick was their technology guy for the house. This included updating televisions and other devices to the latest version.

Louis pressed a button on the television.

It flickered twice before the footage finally appeared.

Grainy.

Black and white.

Silent.

River immediately recognized the hallway outside Cecile's bedroom.

His stomach dropped as he stared at the screen, every muscle tense.

"Nick, you are often the one who provides video cameras for the house and rooms for security, right?" Louis asked.

"Yes, I make sure that all rooms are safe, and I catch any videos or pictures if anything suspicious happens," Nick confirmed.

"Nick has provided a security tape he found during that week to check if anything suspicious happened," Louis explained as he pressed for the tape to start. "We are keeping it muted."

River couldn't stop staring at the table as he saw himself in the room, guiding Cecile inside. He shut his eyes, not wanting to watch the video, but knowing that others needed to see it.

One thought then crossed his mind: were the security cameras on during the bubble? No, that couldn't be possible because they were taken down after that party strangely, and that's why Nick was fired. It all made sense—Cecile must have bribed him off to keep quiet. This video proved that River's side of the store was true.

Louis stopped the footage mid-motion.

Silence swallowed the courtroom.

River couldn't breath for a second. Nobody was questioning him now. Nobody was calling him dramatic or unstable.

They had seen it.

"Why didn't you bring this to the police?" Louis inquired.

Nick took a deep breath before responding. "Cecile paid me not to report it because she knew I would discover the truth from the security cameras monitoring the rooms and houses," he explained.

"How much did she pay you?" Louis pressed.

"Fifty thousand dollars," Nick replied.

River stared in disbelief. That much money for a single video that exposed her crime. Wait, doesn't that mean that's a crime as well? He didn't know the laws, but wasn't it a crime covering up evidence?

"River, I'd like to ask you something," the judge started as he flinched and looked up. "Did you give your mother's consent to what she did?"

He shook his head with his eyes downcast. He didn't, because he couldn't. Even if he tried pushing her arms away or trying to get away, it didn't work. People are there to support and get Cecile out of this, but there is no way out of it.

After two more exhausting hours of testimony, River felt hollow. Every witness dragged the memories back to the surface again and again until he barely felt present anymore.

The judge adjusted his glasses before looking at the jury.

"Jury, I'd like you to make your call."

Was it this quick? Isn't Cecile supposed to talk and hear her side, or have they made their decision because she's famous?

The jury foreman stood slowly, holding a crisp sheet of paper. River felt his chest tightened as all eyes turned toward the panel.

"We have reached a decision," the juror said, pausing.

River's hands trembled, and he gripped the edge of the table. His stomach churned.

"After careful consideration," the juror continued. "We find Cecile Dunlop guilty of sexual assault of a minor, witness tampering, and obstruction of justice."

River felt a strange mix of relief and disbelief. His legs gave out slightly, and he pressed his palms to his face, trying to hold back tears. This was real. It wasn't a dream.

Cecile abruptly stood from her chair. "You can't seriously be ending without hearing my testimony."

Tori quickly grabbed her arm. "Cecile, sit down."

The judge's expression hardened. "The defence chose to waive further testimony after reviewing the evidence."

Louis rested a hand carefully on his shoulder.

"She can't hurt you anymore."

River wanted to believe him.

He really did.

All he could do was nod.

The courtroom seemed to fade around him as he tried to process what had happened. After months of fear and nightmares, Cecile had been held accountable.

He still couldn't stop shaking when Louis leaned closer.

"There's something else you need to know," he said carefully.

River wiped his eyes. "What?"

"Because of the conviction and ongoing financial investigation... Cecile's estate is being transferred in your name."

"But... I'm only fifteen," River whispered.

He thought Mia was lying when she claimed he would inherit all of his mother's money. Then again, the crackheads knew the law backwards, and they can be smart when they want to be.

Louis nodded. "Most of Cecile's estate will be placed into a protected trust until you're an adult," he explained. "But legally, you're the beneficiary."

River stared at the card in disbelief.

Houses. Cars. Businesses. More money than he could ever imagine.

None of it felt real.

He hesitated before taking the card at all.

Part of him felt guilty touching anything that had belonged to Cecile.

This wasn't about luxury. It was about freedom. For the first time in years, he could breathe. He could make choices for himself, and even think about helping others, like he planned.

"What about Cecile's fashion line?" River asked.

"You can either own the company or do whatever you want with it," Louis said.

They slowly walked out of the courtroom, but he could care less about his mother's fashion line.

"I don't want it," River said, voice trembling. "Just... get rid of it."

He didn't need that stain anymore because she had lied her way through the years about everything.

Every photoshoot suddenly felt different in hindsight.

The diets.

The criticism.

The way Cecile controlled every inch of his appearance.

None of it had been really about fashion.

"Okay, I'll call some people. Was there anything else you'd like to know?" Louis asked.

"Could I... use some of the money to build places for kids?"

Louis blinked. "What kind of places?"

"Like apartments or condos or something. For kids that don't have anywhere safe to go."

It was a plan he had in mind that Nevaeh helped him with. So many people have helped him when he thought he couldn't trust anyone.

Louis brushed a hand through his black hair, searching in thought. "We would need to talk to potential investors before moving forward," he said. "It's important that you don't use it carelessly. Plus, it's about the court's decision with your friends for charges."

River knew he could still face charges for Simcoe's destruction, but he had money.

He didn't care about limos or private jets.

He wanted stupid normal things.

Fast food after school.

Walking through a mall without cameras following him.

Buying snacks without someone criticizing his weight.

"You should get back to your hearing," Louis said.

River covered his mouth as tears finally streamed over. 

Not because he was scared anymore.

Because of years of surviving her, he didn't know what freedom was supposed to feel like.

When he pushed open the one door to the courtroom, he spotted Nevaeh on the stand. Her frown cracked into a smirk as the people stared. He brushed his tears away, holding up the card.

"Way to go, Highlighter! Everyone cheer!" Mia exclaimed loudly.

Nobody clapped, but Will just started laughing as most seemed shocked.

River quickly walked over, wiping his face and sliding the debit card into his pocket. Nevaeh climbed down from the stand to see Bella's mother walking up to answer the looming questions and tell the truth.

If there were charges, he could pay them off. They were so rich that even the whole destruction of the Simcoe would be little compared to their money. That's why he wants to build condos for the people who won't be coming to get them or for those who don't want to live with their parents.

All of it felt unreal, like a dream. His mother, who led him to an eating disorder or a crime that challenged most of his behaviour, is going to be behind bars.

How was this all real? It was dreams he had since the assault that left him trembling, and he feared facing Cecile when he modelled.

Cindy leaned close enough for only him to hear.

"You're free now."

River's throat tightened.

For the first time in years, he thought she might be right.

Our Highlighter got the justice he needed!

Did you think Bella's mother will admit the truth about the substance?