His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story
Chatper 314

Chatper 314

Chapter 314 Respite

Ella

The door to the bathroom swung shut behind me with a quiet click, muffling the ambient sounds of thecourthouse’s busy hallway.

For a moment, the silence was overpowering, offering a brief respite from the chaotic world outside.Cold tiles met my stiletto heels, and I leaned over the sink, staring at my reflection. My usually vibranteyes looked dull, and trails of tears had smeared my makeup slightly. Taking a deep breath, I let theweight of my emotions wash over me.

I turned on the tap, letting the cold water rush over my hands before splashing some onto my face.Each droplet felt like a tiny balm against my heated skin, a fleeting relief from the oppressive weight ofguilt that threatened to crush me.

“Why did I ever think this was a good idea?” I whispered, the weight of my decisions bearing down onme. My wolf stirred, a familiar presence at the back of my mind.

“We wanted to make a difference, remember?” she murmured, her voice as gentle as a summerbreeze.

“But like this?” I shot back, frustration evident in my tone. “Working with the mafia? Aligning ourselveswith people like Logan Barrett for what? Career opportunities? A shot at a successful career as alawyer?”

The heaviness in my chest intensified, a sour taste lingering in my mouth. I felt sickened by the path Ihad chosen, regret gnawing at the edges of my consciousness.

“Your intentions were pure,” my wolf argued, her tone soothing. “But lately it feels like Logan tricked us.We believed he wanted to be better. Maybe he just wanted us by his side, to have us as a lawyer, touse our expertise.”

I scoffed bitterly, gripping the sink’s cool edges. “He’s a master manipulator, that’s for sure. I wish Inever met him. I… I hate him.”

“I hate him too right now. But unfortunately, he is our fated mate,” my wolf reminded me gently, a touchof sadness in the tone of her voice.

I shook my head vehemently, a few damp strands of hair sticking to my cheeks from where I splashedwater on my face. Or maybe it was from my tears.

“I’ll never mate with that jerk,” I murmured. “He’s not worthy of being our mate. Not now, not ever. And Idon’t think he’s even capable of changing.”

As if on cue, the door to the bathroom opened, letting in a sliver of light and the muffled hum of voicesfrom outside. The woman who had given the heart-wrenching testimony earlier stepped in, her face aportrait of anguish.

Her gaze locked onto mine in the mirror, and for a moment, the world seemed to stand still. With tearsshimmering in her eyes, her voice trembled with a mix of sorrow and rage. “How can you?” she asked. Iraised my eyebrows slightly, taken aback. “Pardon?”

Miss Smith’s eyes narrowed. “How can a fellow woman bring herself to side with a… a… sicko likeLogan Barrett?”

The weight of Miss Smith’s words hung heavy in the cold air of the bathroom. Her gaze, once teary andanguished, now bore into mine with a potent mixture of fury and disbelief.

“Why?” she whispered, the single word cutting through the silence like a knife. “How can you defendhim? Do you not have a conscience?”

My throat constricted, and for a moment, I felt as though I was being strangled by the weight of my ownguilt. “Miss Smith,” I began, my voice shaking. “It’s… it’s complicated.”

She took a step closer, her brown eyes searching mine. “Complicated? My son’s life is on the line.There’s nothing ‘complicated’ about that.”

My heart ached, and the walls of the bathroom

seemed to close in on me. “I wish I could help,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. “But you’re not.You’re standing beside him,” she spat, her voice dripping with contempt.

“You’re part of the very system that’s tearing my family apart.”

I looked down, unable to meet her accusing gaze. “I understand your pain,” I murmured, trying to replacethe right words. “I never wanted things to turn out like this.”

Miss Smith scoffed again. “Do you think your regrets will save my son? Do you think they’ll make up forthe hell you two are putting us through?” Her voice quivered with emotion, each word stabbing at myconscience.

“I… I went into law to help people like you,” I admitted, my voice choked with emotion. “I neverimagined I’d be on this side of the fight.”

Miss Smith paused, her fierce gaze softening slightly as she studied my face. “Then why are you?”

The question hung in the air, its weight pressing down on me. My mind raced, searching for an answer,but the truth was too convoluted, too entangled in the web of decisions and circumstances that had ledme to this point. And lawyer-client confidentiality kept me from saying more.

“I wish I had a simple answer,” I confessed, my eyes misting with tears. “But I don’t. I’m truly sorry forthe pain I’m causing you.”

She took a deep breath, attempting to compose herself. “Your apologies won’t change the situation.But maybe your actions can. If you truly regret this, then something about it.”

“I’m bound by my professional obligations,” I whispered, regret evident in my voice. “But I promise, I willtry to do what’s right.”

Miss Smith’s gaze remained fixed on me, her eyes searching for any hint of insincerity. “For my son’ssake, I hope you’re telling the truth.”

A heavy silence settled between us, the weight of our conversation lingering in the air. Slowly, MissSmith turned towards the exit, her steps faltering slightly as she walked towards the door.

“I pray you replace your conscience, Miss Morgan,” she said, pausing for a moment before leaving. “Beforeit’s too late.”

My throat tightened, words failing me. I simply stood there, staring at her, my heart aching with theweight of her condemnation. The air between us thickened with tension, and she shook her head, herexpression a mix of disappointment and fury.

Without another word, she turned and made her way out of the bathroom, leaving me alone with theecho of her words.

In the newfound silence, I leaned back against the wall, feeling the cool tiles pressing against my back.She was right. How had I let myself get caught up in this mess?

Outside, I heard the unmistakable sound of the brief recess being called to its end. A wry chucklealmost escaped my lips; fifteen minutes of intermission, and I had spent all of it crying and trying to

convince my horrible client to at least try to be a good person for five minutes, when my body really justcraved another cup of coffee more than anything.

Taking another steadying breath, I adjusted my blazer and pushed open the door. The bustling hallwayoutside greeted me, but my attention was immediately drawn to Logan, who stood a few feet away. Histall frame was unmistakable, even amidst the crowd.

But what caught my attention was his expression-pensive, contemplative, as if lost in deep thought.The stoniness in his eyes from before had now faded, and when he turned toward me, I saw somethingnew in his face. Something softer.

“Ella,” he said, sounding almost remorseful, “I’d like to talk to you.”