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.”

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

was beginning to feel like… a friend. Or, at the very least, his presence didn’t make me want to puke

a moment, he spoke, his voice low and soft. “Can I

I shrugged. “Go on.”

cleared his throat. “You

between a document and my wine glass. Raising an eyebrow, I shot him a skeptical look. I was just wearing a ratty hoodie, some equally ratty shorts, and I had my hair up in a sloppy

“A sleep-deprived

“No, studious. Focused. It’s…endearing. And, for the record, you look pretty, not like a

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

soft, echoing the gentleness in his eyes.

shoving them into a neat pile.. “I should probably head to bed. Big day

glass on the counter. “Thanks for letting me hang out for a bit. And remember, I’m

replied with a tired

silhouette fading into the

to blur for a moment, narrowing my focus to just

phase, he was legally bound to provide any and all information related

we’re in the discovery phase, I’d like to formally request all the crime scene photos and

aback by the directness of my request. “Photos and

breaking

heavily, running a hand through

pressing into a tight line. The soft ping of my phone moments later signaled the receipt of the photos. “However, just to set the record straight,” he added, shooting

at me. “No evidence? That’s highly unusual, don’t

wider. “Perhaps the perpetrator was meticulous, Miss Morgan. Not all criminals

images. Westbrook hmphed to himself and