Page 55 of Client Privilege

“Erratic. Sometimes charming and engaged, other times completely withdrawn. At our last fundraiser in April, he disappeared halfway through the evening without a word to anyone. Marcus was embarrassed but covered for him beautifully.”

I remembered that night with crystal clarity. Marcus had seen me speaking too animatedly with a visiting curator from New York. He’d cornered me near the restrooms, gripping my arm hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, and hissed that if I didn’t “control myself,” there would be “serious consequences” at home. I’d fled to hide in the parking garage until the panic attack subsided.

“Did Marcus ever discuss his concerns about Alex with you?”

“Yes, privately. He was worried about Alex’s mental health. He confided that Alex had a history of… emotional instability and self-harm. Marcus was trying to get him proper treatment, but Alex was resistant.”

My breath caught. Marcus had been laying groundwork for his defence long before I left—spreading lies about my mental health to explain away any injuries people might notice.

“No further questions.”

Damian approached, his expression neutral. “Mrs. Kendrick, you’ve mentioned Alex’s ‘difficult’ defence at events. Did it ever occur to you that his withdrawal might indicate distress rather than rudeness?”

“I suppose that’s possible, but—”

“In your role on the Arts Council, you’ve worked with many artists over the years. Would you say creative personalities sometimes struggle in formal social settings?”

“Yes, certainly.”

“You testified that Marcus told you Alex had a history of ‘emotional instability.’ Did you ever verify this information independently?”

“No, I had no reason to doubt Marcus.”

“Did you ever speak to Alex privately about his well-being?”

Sophia hesitated. “No, I didn’t.”

“Did Marcus ever suggest you shouldn’t speak to Alex alone?”

“Not explicitly, but he did mention Alex was uncomfortable with too much attention.”

“So your entire assessment of Alex’s mental health and the nature of their relationship comes solely from Marcus’s perspective?”

“I observed them together at many events.”

“Public events where both were on display, correct?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“No further questions.”

Blackwood called three more witnesses—all friends or colleagues of Marcus who painted similar pictures of his generosity and my apparent instability. Each testimony twisted the truth so skilfully that I began to doubt my own memories. Had I been difficult? Ungrateful? Was I remembering everything wrong?

Damian seemed to sense my spiralling thoughts. During a brief recess, he leaned close. “They’re doing exactly what we expected—character assassination by proxy. But notice what they don’t have? Anywitnesses who actually saw you and Marcus in private. Any evidence contradicting your injuries. Stay focused.”

I nodded, drawing strength from his certainty. When court resumed, Blackwood made his final announcement.

“The defence calls Marcus Delaney.”

My heart hammered as Marcus approached the stand. He looked impeccable as always—his silver hair perfectly styled, his charcoal suit tailored to emphasize his athletic build. As he was sworn in, his expression was one of dignified sorrow.

“Mr. Delaney,” Blackwood began, “could you please tell the court how you met Alex Lajeunesse?”

Marcus’s voice was measured, resonant with just the right note of nostalgia. “I met Alex at the Gardiner Gallery’s emerging artists exhibition in January 2020. His work caught my attention immediately—there was raw talent there, though it needed refinement. When I spoke with him, I was struck by his passion for art despite his obvious financial struggles.”

“How did your relationship develop?”

“Gradually. I began visiting the gallery regularly, offering guidance on his work. He was eager for mentorship—hungry for it, really. He’d had a difficult childhood, limited opportunities. I wanted to help.”

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