His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 320 A Real Lawyer

Ella

The rhythm of my heels echoed through the polished marble hallways of the courthouse.

Today, I was representing Logan in a preliminary hearing, a chance to sit face to face with the opposing counsel and discuss the evidence that had been uncovered thus far. The evidence I had, courtesy of Logan’s credible witnesses and backed by solid statements, made me confident.

I had spent the last month working like a dog to uncover the mystery surrounding this murder, and one thing was clear: Logan was not related to the murder in any way, and I had the evidence to prove it.

This was a winnable case, and I had every intention of proving Logan’s innocence. But as I turned the corner, I froze, taken aback by the figure before me. Standing just outside the conference room was none other than Attorney Richard Westbrook.

Even among the legal fraternity, his reputation was legendary in this city. He was known for his ruthlessness in the courtroom, but also for his decades-long streak of wins. His tall frame, salt-and-pepper hair, and trademark black glasses gave him an air of authority.

Swallowing my initial shock, I walked up to him, extending my hand with genuine respect.

“Mr. Westbrook, I’m Ella Morgan,” I said, offering a polite smile. “It’s an honor to finally meet you. I’ve followed a lot of your cases and have learned quite a bit from your work.”

He looked down at my hand, then back up to meet my eyes, offering a half-smile.

“Ms. Morrigan,” he responded curtly, not returning the handshake. “Pleasure.”

I swallowed. “It’s… Morgan,” I corrected him, withdrawing my hand. Mr. Westbrook shot me an unreadable glance, almost as though he couldn’t care in the least what my real name was.

“Maybe he’s just thinking,” I said inwardly, feeling my wolf bristle at the disrespect. “He’s a busy man.”

“Or he’s a Class A Asshole,” Ema interjected. A soft growl coming from her rumbled in my mind. “God, I hate men sometimes.”

Resisting the urge to chuckle at my wolf’s annoyed demeanor, I put on a smile for Mr. Westbrook and straightened my blazer. “Well, Mr. Westbrook, I must say that you’ve been quite the role model for me,” I said, lifting my chin to meet the older man’s icy gaze. “Your biggest case-Trainer v. Lindale’-was truly amazing. The way that you pulled that final card out of your sleeve, causing the case to turn in your favor, was impressive.”

at me. Or rather, through me. “It was one of my finer works. As for you, though…I can’t say I’ve

resisting the feeling of anger bubbling up inside of me. “Ella Morgan. I’m still relatively new to the game,” I said, doing my best to maintain a neutral tone. “But I believe

briefly. “Hmm, fresh blood,” he muttered more to himself than to me. “This should be

to enter. Mr. Westbrook and his client headed in ahead of me, but Westbrook stopped midway and shot

“Where is your client?”

was nowhere to be found, and it was past time for

I heard the unmistakable sound of shoes clicking rapidly on marble, labored breathing, and someone

“Ella!”

usually neat hair was mussed, and his tie was askew. In his hand, he clutched a leather briefcase, its flap open and a few papers peeking

I could react, a smirking Mr. Westbrook, who had clearly caught sight of Logan’s hasty entrance, came into

chuckle, looking Logan up and down. “Excellent first impression, I must say.”

heel and walked into the conference room, the door closing heavily behind him. Logan made a move to follow, but

the hell, Logan?” I hissed, my hands flying to his hair, trying to smooth it back into place. “You look like you’ve been in

over him. “I’m sorry,” he panted, catching his breath. “There was an accident on the

shirt to straighten it. “Did you run from the

a

bit disheveled, but it

nodded, a grateful look in his eyes. “I promise

in close, fixing him with a stern gaze. “Good. Now get inside and don’t make a fool of yourself

briefly on Logan before settling back

a senior attorney present?” he asked condescendingly. “I was

that I had prepared for this. “Mr. Westbrook,

in his chair, steepling

the face. It was patronizing, intended to demean and undermine. Every

to lay out the