Page 49 of Client Privilege

“Yes. He left my cat’s collar on my windshield with a note saying if I wanted to see Buster alive, I should come home.”

“Objection!” Blackwood stood. “Hearsay. There’s no evidence connecting this alleged note to my client.”

“Your Honour,” Damian countered, “the plaintiff will testify that he recognized Mr. Delaney’s handwriting on the note.”

“I’ll allow it,” Judge Patterson ruled reluctantly. “Continue.”

“Has Marcus continued to contact you since you left?”

“Yes. Text messages from different numbers. He even found out where I was staying — at the shelter where my attorney had arranged a room — and somehow he got my new phone number too.”

“No further questions, Your Honour.” Damian returned to his seat.

Edward Blackwood approached, his expression one of practiced concern.

“Mr. Lajeunesse, you’ve painted quite a dramatic picture for us today.” His tone was conversational, almost sympathetic. “Let’s clarify a few points, shall we?”

I tensed, preparing for the attack beneath his friendly demeanour.

“You testified that Marcus Delaney was generous in the beginning of your relationship—providing financial support, professional opportunities, housing. Is that correct?”

“Yes, but—”

“Just yes or no, please.” Blackwood smiled thinly. “And these benefits continued throughout your relationship, did they not? You lived in a luxury apartment, had access to the finest restaurants,travelled internationally—all expenses paid by Mr. Delaney?”

“Yes.”

“In fact, over the three years of your relationship, you didn’t have to work at all, did you? You were free to pursue your art without financial concerns?”

“It wasn’t freedom,” I said, feeling my control slipping. “It was another form of control.”

“Interesting perspective.” Blackwood’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Mr. Lajeunesse, before meeting Marcus Delaney, what was your financial situation?”

“I was supporting myself. Working at the gallery, selling some pieces—”

“Were you not behind on your rent? Struggling to pay student loans? Living in a basement apartment with three roommates?”

I flushed. “Yes, but many artists—”

“Just answer the questions, please.” Blackwood consulted his notes theatrically. “Now, you claim Mr. Delaney isolated you from friends and colleagues. Yet you testified that you voluntarily resigned from the gallery to focus on your art. Isn’t that correct?”

“He pressured me to quit, I was coerced.”

“Did he threaten you? Force you to sign a resignation letter?”

“Not physically, no, but—”

“Yes or no, please.”

“No,” I admitted, frustration building.

“And these rules you mentioned—the clothing, the social restrictions—isn’t it possible these were simply suggestions that you’re now re-framing as demands?”

“No, they were—”

“Objection!” Damian stood. “Counsel is badgering the witness and not allowing him to complete his answers.”

“Mr. Blackwood,” Judge Patterson said mildly, “please allow thewitness to respond fully.”