Page 39 of Client Privilege
“Alex has health issues. I kept track of potential medications to discuss with my physician.”
“Even after he fled from you?” Victoria raised an eyebrow. “How considerate. And these entries dated after the protective order was issued?”
The jury leaned forward as Victoria flipped to the final pages.
“You’ve written here, ‘Security code 8742—front desk distracted by delivery at 3 PM.’ This refers to the Parkview Motel, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t recall.”
“You’ve noted the clerk’s schedule, which rooms have faulty locks, and—most interestingly—‘Room 23: confirmed staying minimum five nights.’” Victoria looked up. “How did you ‘confirm’ this information, Mr. Delaney?”
Marcus’s composure slipped. “I have connections throughout the city. People respect me.”
“People you paid, you mean? Like the motel manager who testified earlier that you gave him five hundred dollars for Alex’s room number?”
“That man is lying.”
Victoria picked up another evidence bag. “And these receipts for cash payments to a private investigator? Are these forgeries too?”
“I was concerned for Alex’s safety,” Marcus insisted, his voice rising slightly. “He’s unstable. I was trying to help him.”
“By writing—and I quote—‘Retrieve by whatever means necessary. No witnesses.’” Victoria held up the page for the jury to see. “Is that your definition of help, Mr. Delaney?”
“You’re twisting my words.”
“And this notation?” Victoria pointed to a particularly disturbing entry. “‘If reasoning fails, sedation may be necessary. Dosage calculations based on 65kg weight.’ Below that, you’ve listed the three different prescription medications you noted earlier with precise dosages.”
Marcus’s face flushed. “That’s not—”
“Not what it looks like?” Victoria finished. “Then please, explain to the jury why a man under a court order to stay away from Alex Lajeunesse would have detailed plans for drugging and kidnapping him.”
“I have a right to protect what’s mine,” Marcus snapped, then immediately looked as though he regretted the words.
A murmur rippled through the courtroom. Judge Collins gaveled for silence.
“What’s yours?” Victoria repeated, letting the words hang in the air. “ Mr. Lajeunesse is a person, not property.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I think it’s exactly what you meant, Mr. Delaney. Just as you meant it when you wrote here—” she flipped to the final page, “‘No matter the cost, no matter the consequences, he will return home where he belongs. I’ve invested too much to lose him now.’”
Marcus’s explanation grew increasingly convoluted as Victoria methodically cornered him with each piece of evidence.
His usual polish cracked further with each question, revealing flashes of the controlling, obsessive man beneath.
By the time she finished, sweat beaded on his forehead despite the courtroom’s chill, and his hands gripped the witness stand so tightly his knuckles had turned white.
From my seat, I watched his performance unravel—the carefully constructed facade of the concerned partner giving way to glimpses of possessive rage and arrogance. The jury saw it too; I could tell from their expressions that Victoria had accomplished exactly what she intended.
“No further questions,” Victoria said, returning to her seat with the satisfied air of a cat that had finished toying with its prey.
The rest of Marcus’s “defence” was equally disastrous. He called no witnesses, presented no evidence, and his closing statement devolved into a rant about his own importance and my insignificance that had several jurors exchanging uncomfortable glances.
The jury deliberated for less than two hours.
“On the count of assault causing bodily harm, how do you find?” Judge Collins asked.
“Guilty,” the forewoman announced.
“On the count of breaking and entering…”
“Guilty.”
“Criminal harassment…”
“Guilty. ”
“Jury tampering…”
“Guilty.”
As the verdicts continued—guilty on all counts—Marcus stood rigid, his face a mask of disbelief. When the final verdict was read, he turned to look at me, his expression twisted with such hatred that I instinctively shrank back.
“This is a travesty,” he snarled, his composure finally shattering completely. “Do you know who I am? I’ve dined with prime ministers! I’ve funded hospitals! And you believe this… this nobody over me?”
“Mr. Delaney, control yourself,” Judge Collins warned.
“This isn’t over,” Marcus spat, his gaze fixed on me. “You think you’ve won? You’re nothing without me. Nothing!”
“Remove the defendant,” Judge Collins ordered, and two court officers moved to restrain Marcus, who struggled against their grip.
“I made you!” he shouted as they dragged him toward the door. “I can destroy you just as easily!”
As the doors closed behind him, cutting off his threats, I released a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Victoria squeezed my arm gently.
“It’s over, Alex. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
I nodded, tears blurring my vision. “What happens to Buster?”
“He’s at the animal hospital being treated. You can pick him up tomorrow.”
I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by relief and exhaustion. After years of captivity and weeks of legal battles, it was finally, truly over. Marcus would go to prison. Buster would come home. And I would be free to rebuild my life without looking over my shoulder.
When I opened my eyes, I found Damian watching me from across the courtroom, his expression a mix of professional satisfaction and something deeper, more personal.
He gave me a small nod that somehow conveyed everything words couldn’t—pride, relief, and the promise of something new beginning now that this chapter had closed.
For the first time in years, I allowed myself to think about the future without fear shadowing every thought. It stretched before me, uncertain but full of possibilities that had seemed impossible just days ago.
I was free.