Page 42 of Client Privilege

“We do not dispute that Mr. Lajeunesse was injured and sought medical attention. However, we will present evidence suggesting these injuries occurred under circumstances very different from those he has described—circumstances that had nothing to do with Mr. Delaney.”

My vision blurred with tears of rage. The audacity of their lies made me want to scream.

“Your Honour, this court should recognize this case for what it is: an attempt to extract financial gain from a generous man whose only mistake was opening his home and heart to someone who ultimately betrayed his trust.”

Blackwood returned to his seat beside Marcus, who nodded solemnly as if pained by the proceedings.

“Mr. Richards, call your first witness,” Judge Patterson instructed.

Damian stood. “The plaintiff calls Professor Claude Mercier.”

My heart leapt at the name. I turned to watch Claude enter the courtroom, his familiar lanky figure and salt-and-pepper beard bringing a rush of memories from my first year at art school. He’d been the first professor to take my work seriously, to see potential beyond technical skill.

After being sworn in, Claude settled in the witness box, his eyes finding mine with a small, encouraging smile.

“Professor Mercier,” Damian began, “could you please state your occupation for the record?”

“I am a Professor of Fine Arts at the Academy Fine Arts de Montreal, where I’ve taught for twenty-three years.”

“And how do you know Alex Lajeunesse?”

Claude straightened slightly. “Alex was my student in his first year at the academy. One of the most promising young artists I’d encountered in many years.”

“Could you elaborate on that assessment?”

“Certainly.” Claude’s hands moved expressively as he spoke. “Most first-year students are still finding their voice, experimenting with techniques. Alex arrived with technical proficiency, but more importantly, with something to say. His work showed unusual emotional depth and authenticity.”

“What happened to this promising student?”

Claude’s expression darkened. “Alex stopped attending classes midway through his second year. This was shortly after he began an internship at the Gardiner Gallery in Toronto, a position for which I had recommended him for.”

“Did you attempt to contact him about his absence?”

“Multiple times.” Claude looked directly at me. “I called, emailed, even flew to Toronto and went to his apartment once. I was concerned. It was completely out of character for him to abandon his studies, especially given his talent and dedication.”

“And were you able to reach him?”

Claude shook his head. “No. Eventually, I received a formal letter from a law firm representing Marcus Delaney, instructing me to cease all contact with Alex. It stated that my ‘harassment’ was unwelcome and threatened legal action if I persisted.”

Murmurs rippled through the courtroom.

“Was this normal procedure for a student dropping out?”

“Absolutely not.” Claude’s indignation was clear. “In twenty-three years of teaching, I’ve never received a cease and desist letter for checking on a student’s welfare.”

“What was your reaction to this letter?”

“I was deeply concerned. I brought it to the dean’s attention, but ultimately, there was little we could do. The letter came from a prestigious firm, and the school didn’t want legal complications.”

“Did you have any further contact with Alex after receiving thisletter?”

Claude hesitated, glancing toward Marcus before answering. “Yes. Over a month ago, Alex called me in the middle of the night. He was clearly in distress, said he’d just left a hospital and needed help.”

“And what did you do?”

“I drove to Toronto immediately. When I found him…” Claude’s voice wavered slightly. “He was still in hospital scrubs, injured, terrified. He wouldn’t tell me exactly what happened, but I could see he was in a desperate situation.”

“How did you assist him?”

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