Page 18 of Client Privilege

Damian

THE FORTY-SECOND floor housed only two offices—mine and Lawrence Montgomery’s.

As managing partner, Montgomery enjoyed the corner suite with its panoramic views of both the lake and the city skyline.

I’d been summoned there after hours, the timing itself a message.

Firm business conducted after the associates and support staff had left was rarely good news.

I knocked once, then entered without waiting for a response.

Montgomery sat behind his imposing mahogany desk—larger than mine by precise design—surrounded by the trappings of power.

The walls displayed framed photographs of him with prime ministers and CEOs, carefully arranged to be visible from any angle.

Awards and recognition plaques occupied custom-built shelves, illuminated by recessed lighting.

“Damian.” Montgomery didn’t stand. “Close the door.”

I complied, then took a seat across from him without waiting to be invited. Small rebellions maintained the illusion that we were equals, though we both knew the executive committee held the real power.

“Lawrence.” I kept my voice neutral. “It’s rather late for a casual chat. ”

He slid a folder across the polished surface. “The Halston acquisition. Remember that?”

“Of course.”

“Three point two million in billable hours.” He tapped the folder with a manicured finger. “That’s what your little crusade has cost this firm. So far.”

I didn’t touch the folder. “The Lajeunesse case is pro-bono. The firm approves a certain number of hours for—”

“Don’t insult my intelligence.” Montgomery’s voice remained even, but his eyes hardened. “Two hundred and seventeen hours, Damian. That’s what you’ve personally devoted to this… domestic dispute. Hours that should have gone to Halston.”

“Domestic abuse,” I corrected. “Not a dispute.”

Montgomery waved dismissively. “Whatever you want to call it. The point remains—you’ve diverted significant resources from paying clients to pursue a vendetta against Marcus Delaney.”

“It’s not a vendetta. It’s a legitimate case with substantial evidence.”

“Evidence.” He practically spat the word. “Do you have any idea who Marcus Delaney is in this city? He sits on the hospital board with me. The Arts Council with Caroline.”

I leaned forward slightly. “I’m well aware of his connections.”

“Are you?” Montgomery opened another folder. “Three clients have expressed ‘concerns’ about your availability. Westbrook Industries is considering moving their business to Blake’s. The Sutherland Group has requested another partner handle their upcoming merger.”

I absorbed this without visible reaction, though the information stung. These were clients I’d cultivated for years.

“And Judge Patterson?” I asked. “Is he also expressing ‘concerns’?”

Montgomery’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing you don’t already know. Patterson’s bias was obvious from the beginning. I wonder if that has anything to do with him being your brother-in-law.”

A flash of anger crossed Montgomery’s face. “Watch yourself, Damian. Your name may be on the letterhead, but partnership agreements can be restructured.”

“Is that a threat, Lawrence?”

“It’s reality. The firm’s executive committee is questioning your judgment. This obsession with Delaney’s boy toy—”

I stood abruptly, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Choose your next words very carefully.”

Montgomery held my gaze, then seemed to reconsider. He sighed, leaning back. “This isn’t about Delaney. Not really. It’s about stability. Predictability. The firm can’t function if partners pursue personal vendettas.”

“Is that what you think this is?”

“What else could it be? You’ve never devoted this kind of time to pro-bono work before.”

I remained standing, using the height advantage to shift the power dynamic. “You’re right about one thing, Lawrence. This isn’t just another case.”

“Finally, some honesty.”

“But not for the reasons you think.” I began pacing slowly before his desk. “What’s the most valuable currency in our profession? Beyond billable hours and retainers?”

Montgomery frowned. “Get to the point.”

“Reputation.” I stopped, resting my hands on the back of the chair. “Richards, Blackwell & Montgomery has a sterling reputation for corporate law. We’re known for aggressive negotiation, meticulous contracts, and winning at all costs.”

“Precisely. A reputation we’ve spent decades building.”

“And one that brings in certain types of clients. But what about the clients who want more than just a shark in a suit? The ones who care about ethics and social responsibility?”

Montgomery scoffed. “Those clients don’t have our kind of money.”

“The Rosenthal Foundation does. So does Green Future Investments. And Westmount Capital.” I named three potential clients the firm had been pursuing unsuccessfully. “All of whom have expressed concerns about our firm’s commitment to social justice.”

I could see the calculations happening behind Montgomery’s eyes. He was nothing if not pragmatic when it came to profit.

“You think this Lajeunesse case will attract that kind of client?”

“I know it will. The publicity from this case isn’t a liability—it’s an opportunity. We’ll be known as the firm that stood up to wealth and privilege when it was abused. The firm that believes in justice regardless of who’s on the other side.”

“Pretty words.” Montgomery drummed his fingers on the desk. “But they don’t pay the bills.”

“No, but they open doors. Doors to clients who might never have considered us before.” I leaned forward. “This case has already attracted attention from Justice Sommers, who happens to sit on the board of the Rosenthal Foundation.”

That caught his attention. Montgomery was silent for a long moment, reassessing the situation.

“The executive committee won’t be satisfied with vague promises of future business,” he finally said.

“I’m not asking them to be. I acknowledge the Halston situation, and I have a solution.

” I returned to my seat, now that I’d shifted the conversation’s direction.

“I’ll personally handle the Halston acquisition after hours.

And I’ll take a fifteen percent reduction in my quarterly profit share to offset any potential losses. ”

Montgomery’s eyebrows rose slightly—the closest he came to showing surprise. “That’s… substantial.”

“I believe in this case, Lawrence. And I believe it will benefit the firm in ways that aren’t immediately obvious.”

He studied me with new calculation in his eyes. “You really think Delaney did what the boy claims?”

“I know he did. And so do you, if you’re honest with yourself.” I held his gaze. “How many times have you seen Caroline make excuses for his behaviour at events? How many young men has he gone through over the years?”

A flicker of discomfort crossed Montgomery’s face. We both knew the rumours about Marcus’s “proteges” who seemed to vanish after a few years.

“The executive committee will be watching the outcome closely,” he said finally. “If you lose this case, Damian, there will be consequences even I can’t protect you from.”

“I understand.”

“And your offer—the profit reduction and after-hours work—I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

Montgomery closed the folders, signalling the end of our meeting. “For what it’s worth, I hope you’re right about the publicity angle. The firm could use some positive press.”

I stood, buttoning my jacket. “We’ll get it. Justice tends to make good headlines.”

As I reached the door, Montgomery called after me. “Damian?”

I paused, looking back.

“If you’re going to risk your career on this case, you’d better win.”

“I intend to.”

I found Sandra still at her desk when I returned to my office, though it was well past eight o’clock.

“How did it go?” she asked, looking up from her computer.

“About as expected.” I loosened my tie, suddenly exhausted. “Montgomery’s concerned about the bottom line. ”

“And?”

“And I offered to take a hit on my quarterly profit share. Plus I’ll be handling Halston after hours.”

Sandra’s eyes widened. “That’s a significant concession.”

“It’s worth it.” I sank into my chair, rubbing my temples. “But it means I’ll need the Lajeunesse files reorganized for maximum efficiency. We don’t have room for wasted time.”

She nodded, already making notes. “I’ll have everything ready by morning. And I’ll clear your weekend schedule to focus on Halston.”

“Thank you, Sandra.” I hesitated, then added, “Don’t mention the profit share arrangement to Alex. He already feels responsible for disrupting our practice.”

“Of course not.” She gave me a knowing look. “You really believe in this case.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “I believe in justice. Even when it’s inconvenient. Especially then. This case just reminded me of it.”

After Sandra left, I sat alone in my office, staring out at the city lights.

The financial hit I’d just accepted would be substantial—well into six figures.

My carefully managed life was becoming increasingly complicated, the neat boundaries between professional and personal blurring beyond recognition.

And yet, I felt more certain of my path than I had in years. Whatever the cost, Alex deserved justice. If Montgomery and the executive committee couldn’t see that, it was their moral failing, not mine.

I turned back to my desk and pulled the Halston files toward me. It would be a long night, but I’d meant what I said. I would win this case—not just for Alex, but for every victim silenced by wealth and power.

Some things were worth the price.