Page 33 of Claim

I couldn’t lie. If I did and she discovered it later, I wouldn’t just burn myself; I’d drag her with me. And minimising it would be just as bad. Disingenuous. A crack she’d spot immediately. But if I framed it emotionally, if I made it about love, she’d shut the file and Razor would remain exactly where he was, untouched by anything resembling a real defence.

So I answered the only way that kept all of us standing.

“I knew he operated in a criminal world. I didn’t know the extent of his alleged involvement or the level of scrutiny already on him. Once I understood that, I disengaged. Completely.” I held her gaze, not rushing the next part. “What I know now comes from the papers. Observation. Watching how the Crown has moved since his arrest. That knowledge is professional, not personal.”

She stared at me. Hard. Not weighing whether I was telling the truth but considering whether what I was offering was usable.

This was a risk. I knew that. A gamble.

But I also knew Imogen.

I knew the cases that drew her in. Not innocence-versus-guilt fairy tales, but imbalance. Overreach. The state flexing where it shouldn’t because it could. David and Goliath, dressed up as procedure. And this had that in spades. It wasn’t about whether he was good or bad. It was about whether the system was behaving itself.

That was what fed her.

“You understand,” she glanced down at the file again, “that if I take this on, I take control.”

“Yes.”

No hesitation. No bargaining.

That, at least, was something I could give her cleanly.

“You do nothing without instruction.”

“I won’t.”

“And if I think you’re compromised at any point—”

“You’ll remove me.”

“I don’t need you to care about him. I need you to dismantle him if necessary. Advise him to plead if that’s where it lands. To stand up in court and make submissions that hurt.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?” Her voice was level. “Because that’s where people like you fail. You argue for the man you know, not the case in front of you.”

I held her gaze. “If I couldn’t do that, I wouldn’t be here.”

A pause.

“And if I conclude you shouldn’t act?”

“Then I step back and I stay stepped back.”

She regarded me with the same stillness she reserved for witnesses who thought they were doing well. “Let’s be clear.” She tapped the desk with her finger. “This isn’t about whether you slept with him. It’s about whether you still see him as a person you need to protect. Because those are not the same thing.”

“I understand the distinction.”

“Do you?” She let her chair fall forwards again. “When did it end?”

I hesitated for half a beat too long. “The night he was arrested.”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “So it didn’t end by choice.”

“No.”

“But you haven’t seen him since?”