Page 82 of Client Privilege

“Sustained,” Judge Collins said. “Move on from this line of questioning, Mr. Blackwood.”

For nearly an hour, Blackwood tried to twist my words, suggesting I was opportunistic, unstable, seeking financial gain. Each question designed to paint Marcus as the victim of my manipulation.

“No further questions,” he finally said, returning to his seat.

Judge Collins called a recess, and I nearly collapsed as I left thewitness box. Outside in the hallway, Helena approached me with a paper cup of water.

“You did well in there,” she said, her eyes kind but professional.

I took the water with shaking hands. “He made me sound so calculated.”

“That’s his job. But the jury heard the recording. They saw your medical records. The police reports of the night at the motel. They know.”

Damian joined us, standing close enough that I could feel his warmth but not touching me. We’d been careful about that since I’d moved into his guest room—maintaining appropriate boundaries while the case proceeded.

“Chang is calling me next to authenticate the recording,” he said. “Then Detective Mathers. We’re building an airtight case here, Alex.”

I nodded, trying to believe him. But across the hall, I caught sight of Marcus conferring with his lawyer, his expression untroubled. How could he look so confident with that recording played in open court?

“He has something planned,” I whispered. “I know that look.”

Helena followed my gaze. “Let him try. We have facts, evidence, and truth. He has money and lies.”

“Sometimes that’s enough,” I said.

“Not this time,” Damian replied, his voice hard with certainty. “Not with me.”

The bailiff called us back in, and I returned to my seat behind Victoria. As Damian took the stand, I watched Marcus lean back in his chair, a small smile playing at his lips.

That smile terrified me more than his rage ever had.

DAMIAN’S TESTIMONY WASprecise and damning. He explained how he’drecorded the call while simultaneously contacting emergency services, described finding me being assaulted when he arrived at the motel, and confirmed the recording’s authenticity.

Helena followed, detailing the police response and subsequent investigation. She described my injuries with clinical detachment that somehow made them sound even more horrific.

“Detective Mathers, in your professional opinion, were Mr. Lajeunesse’s injuries consistent with his account of the assault?” Victoria asked.

“Completely,” Helena replied. “The bruising pattern on his neck matched a manual strangulation attempt. The door to his motel room was broken inward with force consistent with someone of Mr. Delaney’s size and strength.”

“And the recording?”

“Our technical team verified its authenticity. It has not been edited or altered in any way.”

When Victoria called her next witness, my breath caught. A small, balding man in an ill-fitting suit approached the stand.

“Please state your name for the record.”

“Gerald Aubrey.”

“And your occupation?”

“I’m a bank manager at the downtown branch of TD Canada Trust.”

Victoria handed him a document. “Can you identify this record?”

He adjusted his glasses. “This is a record of cash withdrawals from Marcus Delaney’s personal account. Two withdrawals of fifty thousand dollars each, made the day before jury selection began in the civil trial.”

The courtroom erupted in whispers. Judge Collins gaveled for order.

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