Chapter 70 Leila
Leila
Never Push Your Luck
One of the fundamental rules of cross-examination is “know when to stop.” You can ruin an exceptional piece of oratorical art by asking one question at the end that derails your entire case.
Never push your luck.
Dad said it was one of the most difficult rules to master. I think, mainly, because you can’t quite grasp it as a concept until you’re older. In fact, it may be the one rule Dad never quite followed himself.
It’s been two weeks since the trial. By sheer chance, a colleague from chambers had a rental that became available just outside Durham. It’s a small, semidetached new build, everything Julian despises. I love it.
My victory in the Millman trial has sent my career skyward.
Jim has had solicitors calling him and booking me in for trials for the next year solid, and they ask for me personally.
He sat me down a few days ago and said chambers had met and decided they would support me applying for silk in the next round of applications.
Me, applying to be King’s Counsel. They think I’m good enough.
Shame my own pupilmaster never did.
That stings more than anything else. I can handle the marital betrayal—I’m hardly in a position to be upset about that. But my mentor and professional guardian? I would have expected Julian to screw his wife over, not his pupil.
That genuinely hurts.
So, I took everything he taught me and used it to defeat him—much as I did with my own dad. Rule #7: Beware the Talented Student.
Looking back on it, I can see that Julian was always a means to an end. A fast track to better cases. He elevated my career in ways I never deserved—much as Chester did—but I despised how it made me feel. At least with Chester, nobody knew how I used him to get where I was.
Julian was an unbelievably easy target; not long after his divorce, it became painful listening to his “date disasters,” but I went along with it, pretending to care, offering “advice.” It formed an excellent blueprint for what Julian wanted in a woman and who I needed to be to land him.
Don’t complain, don’t be needy, be subservient, be sexual, be compliant, don’t question anything, and don’t ever cheat, or you will be punished for it.
It worked for as long as I needed it to.
And I had wanted him, to a certain extent, at least in the beginning.
I was not immune to his confidence, his swagger, his power.
But I hadn’t counted on him being as nasty as he was.
He ended up being a hot poker that plunged into the gaping wound that hadn’t yet healed inside me, the hurt of the little girl who hadn’t yet processed what had happened to her.
Serves me right, I suppose.
He wore a mask at work, just like I did. Only Sienna knew what lay beneath it. I knew he’d cheat on me eventually. It was just a case of when.
Now, I’ve personally earned the reputation I always craved, but something about it leaves me cold. I should be elated. I’ve finally got what I wanted. I am no longer relegated to the “stupid blonde” ranks, having to play puerile mind games with misogynistic arseholes like DCI Brady.
Yet I’m disgusted by my relapse to Delilah, for how I manipulated those jurors and everyone in that courtroom.
The nightmares have started again. Every night, I see him, pinning me to the wall, so close I can smell the sweat on his skin, gloating that I am no better than him, that he might have been a bad father but at least he never killed anyone.
Not just once but three times.
That’s a heavy load to carry.
It’s a stupid thing to do. Even as I pick up the phone, I fully understand the risk I’m taking by doing it. But it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
“Davina? It’s Leila Reynolds. Listen, I need a favor.”