Page 40 of Claim

Mercer clasped his hands over the file. “This is your call.”

My call.

I looked at Tristan again.

He was still. Controlled. Present in a way that hurt worse than absence.

“So before I ask anything else.” Mercer pulled me back. “Do you consent to us discussing your case today and to us considering whether to take conduct of your defence?”

I looked at him. Then back at Tristan.

I thought he nodded. Gave me the barest inclination of his head for me to say yes. Or maybe I invented it because I didn’t know what the fuck he wanted from me, cause he wasn’t saying anything, and I wasn’t sure if I even wanted him to anyway, and the room was closing in.

So I waved a bruised hand. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever.”

“Great. Then, for clarity, your previous relationship has been declared internally. Boundaries are in place. If at any point you are uncomfortable with Mr Hale-Fitzroy’s presence, you say so. Immediately.”

I glanced back at Tristan.

So not just met then. ‘Previous relationship’ was now out there for the room.

I snorted, glanced away, and folded my arms to dig my fingers into my biceps. I wanted to shout. Tear the table off the floor and cross the distance between us. To grab him and shake answers out of him. What was I supposed to say here? Deny it? Confirm it? Pretend he hadn’t been in my bed, my mouth, my head?

More than that, what I wanted was for him to explain why he was here at all. Why he’d walked back into my life wearing titles and distance and restraint. Whether this was coincidence or obligation. Whether he’d told them what we were. What we’d done. What it had meant.

If it had meant anything at all.

But Tristan said nothing.

Not giving me a single fucking thing to hold on to.

So I glanced back to the other one. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Mercer nodded. “Then we proceed professionally.” He turned a page and read, and in that moment, I peeked at Tristan as he turned his gaze on Mercer, probably waiting for this to all actually start.

God, he was fucking perfect.

He hurt my eyes.

“We’re going to ask you about timelines, contact, and procedure.” Mercer looked back up. “Not guilt. No explanations. If we need those later, we’ll tell you. First, has anyone explained why your previous team stepped back?”

“They told me it was complex.”

“It is.” Mercer leant back in his chair. “Has anyone outside legal channels contacted you regarding this case?”

I frowned. “No.”

“Good. Don’t answer anyone who might.”

“Who’s likely to contact me?”

“People who want to steer this somewhere.”

“Where? Who? Gimme names.”

“I can’t do that.”

Tristan cleared his throat. “If I may?”