His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 321 Discovery

Ella

The moonlight streamed into the living room, casting a dim glow over the scattered papers around me.

My floor had turned into a makeshift work desk, a testament to the unyielding hours I’d spent trying to decipher every detail of the case. A nearly empty wine glass sat next to me, a small but rebellious act of indulgence for the night. I had to arm myself mentally and emotionally to go toe-to-toe with Mr. Westbrook tomorrow.

The sneering manner in which he’d dismissed me earlier had left a sting, a challenge I couldn’t ignore. Proving Logan’s innocence was paramount, but so was showing Westbrook that I was a formidable opponent.

With every document I pored over, my determination grew stronger. I wouldn’t let Westbrook’s presumptions dictate the course of this case. I was a force to be reckoned with, and I intended to make sure he knew it. As I reached for another sheet, the sudden buzz of my apartment’s intercom startled me.

Groaning softly, I got up, the joints in my legs protesting after hours of sitting. Peering at the monitor, Logan’s face greeted me. His eyes, even in the grainy display, conveyed a mixture of concern and hesitation.

“Ella?” His voice crackled over the speaker. Sighing, I pressed the button. “It’s late, Logan. What are you doing here?”

“Just…a little worried about you after earlier, that’s all,” he admitted, fidgeting with the collar of his jacket.

I hesitated for a moment, then relented, buzzing him in. As the door clicked open, I returned to my floor, settling back amidst the sea of papers.

Logan walked in, his eyes darting around the room, taking in the chaotic spread of legal documents. “Working hard, I see.”

“It’s more about working smart,” I murmured, not lifting my eyes from a particularly perplexing affidavit. “Just gearing up for tomorrow.”

Logan pulled up a barstool and perched himself on it, scrutinizing my every move. The weight of his gaze was palpable, an almost tangible pressure. “Need a hand?”

I glanced up, offering him a wry smile. “I’ve got this, Logan. But, I guess a little company won’t hurt. Since you’re here, and all.”

he accepted the wine glass I offered him. We sat in silence, punctuated only by the occasional rustle of paper and the muted clinks of our glasses. He watched, attentive and silent, as I pieced together fragments of

we had spent working together. I hated to admit it, but he almost was beginning to feel like… a friend. Or, at the very

spoke, his voice low and soft. “Can

I shrugged. “Go on.”

throat. “You look

a skeptical look. I was just wearing a ratty hoodie, some

I asked. “A sleep-deprived slob

his head. “No, studious. Focused. It’s…endearing. And, for the record,

warmth flooding my cheeks, a deep crimson that no wine could induce. “You’re delusional,” I

his eyes. “Perhaps. But I still stand by what I

scattered sheets, shoving them into a neat

“Thanks for letting me hang

remember,” I replied with a tired

his silhouette fading into the night. “Wouldn’t dream

focus to just Mr. Westbrook,

legally bound to provide any and all information related to the case. And, perhaps for the first time, I was about to use his

Westbrook,” I began, narrowing my eyes and tilting my head just slightly, “Since we’re in the discovery phase, I’d like to formally request all the crime scene photos and the entire collection of evidence your

raised a skeptical eyebrow, clearly taken aback by the directness of my request. “Photos and evidence?

not breaking eye contact. “Every

running a hand

well. I’ll have them sent to you,” he said, pulling out his phone. He tapped away for a moment, his lips pressing into a tight line. The soft ping of my phone moments later signaled the receipt of the photos.

highly unusual, don’t you think? A

smirk grew wider. “Perhaps the perpetrator was meticulous, Miss Morgan. Not all criminals leave their tools behind.

began scrolling through the images. Westbrook hmphed to himself and returned to his