Billionaire Lawyer's Secretary - Chapter 34: Chapter 34

It was 10 PM, and two streaks—one black, one white—ripped through Veritasiton Avenue. They blasted out of the city, racing toward the winding mountain roads on the outskirts.
Elara stayed glued to Adrian's bumper. Soon they hit an empty two-laner. The racing-grade guardrails lining the highway gave it away—this was a drag strip for the rich.
Elara couldn't help but shake her head. 'Rich people and their crazy lifestyle.'
She didn't know the road. But with the path clear, she was ready to make her move. She delicately adjusted the wheel and floored the gas. The white Koenigsegg crept up alongside the McLaren.
Noticing her move, Adrian slammed his pedal down.
Elara's ride closed in on his tail again. She smirked silently, 'Adrian, you're in for it.'
At 125 mph, Elara felt like her old self. Her palms were sweaty, but her chest was finally unclenched.
About 300 feet ahead, a sharp curve loomed on her side—perfect pass opportunity.
However, Elara didn't rush. She hugged the left side of the lane till 150 feet from the turn, then hit the gas.
Adrian clocked her plan to use the curve to overtake. He edged left, blocking her path.
But Elara didn't flinch. Instead, she hit the gas harder, looking like she was ready to force a collision.
Adrian's brows shot up. 'Is this guy suicidal?'
Elara sneered silently, 'Let's see who's more afraid of dying—Mr. Silver Spoon, or me, with nothing to lose.'
At the last second before impact, the McLaren swerved right at 150 mph.
With his insane driving skills, Adrian kept the car steady, narrowly avoiding the guardrail.
Pushed to the limit, the McLaren gradually skidded to a stop. Adrian's heart pounded, but he grinned at the car ahead.
He wasn't one to call people crazy lightly. But now, he couldn't help but admire her in his mind, 'What a lunatic.'
The Koenigsegg's window rolled down. A hand stuck out, giving him the middle finger.
'This brat's got some serious guts,' Adrian thought, laughing out of anger.
The Koenigsegg roared to life and took off.
Adrian hit the gas—he wanted to meet this driver.
Along the way, the Koenigsegg didn't let up. Adrian took his time, trailing behind until he drove into a familiar café.
After pulling into a cozy courtyard and parked, Elara stepped out in a black coat. She smoothed her wind-tossed hair, locked the car, and headed inside the café.
Adrian sat in his car, momentarily stunned. Suddenly, his phone buzzed with a text: [Mr. Hartley, we ran the plates. It's registered to Julian Quinn.]
Something clicked. Adrian opened his phone and scrolled through old photos.
When Elara stepped into Tiffany Café, Julian and Ruby were already there waiting for her.
"Girl, it's past midnight. Did delivering coffee seriously take you five hours?" Ruby gaped.
Elara poured a glass of water and chugged it. "Damn. Adrian's such a headache. I nearly got myself into a mess."
Julian's temper flared up. "He strong-armed you again?"
"Nah." Elara sighed, shaking her head. "I was way too confident. I thought my personality profile from earlier would give me the upper hand. God, I was so naive."
Ruby frowned, "All your overseas training was for nothing?"
"Who knows? Maybe he's a pro at hiding." Elara slipped off her coat and sank into the sofa. "But man, this guy is crazy. Earlier on the road, he saw my car and challenged me to a race out of nowhere."
Julian raised an eyebrow. "And? You raced him?"
Elara nodded. "Duh, or I'd be back sooner."
"Who won?" Julian and Ruby asked in unison.
Elara flashed a mischievous smile. "Obviously, me—the crazier one."
"Did he realize it was you when he challenged you?" asked Julian.
Elara replied, "Dunno at first, but he tailed me here after the race. He must've seen me get out."
She took a sip of water, opened WhatsApp, and texted Alex goodnight. Suddenly, a friend request popped up. She tapped it and gasped, "Oh my God. You'll never guess who just added me."
"Who?" Ruby asked.
"Adrian Hartley!"
Ruby's jaw dropped. Julian, sprawled in the armchair, leaned forward with curiosity.
Elara accepted the friend request and waited for Adrian to say something. But ten minutes later, radio silence. She finally caved, typing: [What's up, loser?]
Adrian, fresh from the shower, checked his phone and snorted. His long fingers typed: [Tell Alex to bring the case to Anchor Law Firm tomorrow.]
"Yes! I made it!" Elara whooped. She shoved her phone at Ruby, bouncing on her toes. "See? We're not useless. We can help Alex."
Nancy had said the three of them would only slow Alex down. Those words had been eating at Elara for days—she was desperate to help him.
Next day, Alex and Elara arrived at Anchor Law Firm. Elara had spent an hour on the phone last night, practically arm-twisting him into coming.
Adrian was nowhere in sight. Instead, Eric greeted them—the same guy they'd met earlier. But this time, he was way friendlier.
"Mr. Keating, Ms. Langton," he said. "Mr. Hartley has filled me in. I'll be handling your case."
Alex got straight to it. "What's our shot here?"
Eric didn't sugarcoat it. "Truth is, the prosecution has witnesses and evidence. Your dad denies it, but without counterproof, it's an uphill battle."
Alex retorted, "But they bribed the witnesses."
"Police will vet the evidence," Eric said. "If it's tampered with, it can't be used in court."
Elara cut in, "So even if we know the Heatons set this up, that doesn't help?"
Eric shook his head. "Not without evidence. Submit anything you have to the police. If they validate it, we can use it in court."
Elara frowned, "Even you guys can't do anything about this? The Heatons are this bold to pull such kind of stunt?"
But all of Eric's answers were nothing but bullshit. He just kept giving them the same runaround—they needed solid evidence and should call the cops if they had any issues.
Before leaving, Alex asked, "If this goes to trial now, how much time is my dad looking at?"
Eric replied flatly, "For murder, if he pleads guilty or shows remorse, we can strive for a lighter sentence, probably 10 to 15 years.
"So, it's best to persuade your dad to admit the crime. This way, we can still strive for a lighter sentence. If he refuses to admit it no matter what, he might get 20 years."
"My dad didn't do it. Why would he confess?" Alex's normally calm face contorted with rage, his fists balled.
Elara's voice turned urgent. "Mr. Collins, we came here for help—real help. Why keep harping on evidence? Can't you give us something we can use?"
Eric shrugged. "Ms. Langton, I'm only on this case because Mr. Hartley ordered it. In Veritasiton, no lawyer with half a brain touches cases involving the four prominent families. These things always get settled quietly.
"Maybe you can offer the Heatons a payout—a couple hundred thousand dollars a life."
Elara laughed out of anger. "You think the Heatons need cash?"
"Look," Eric said, rubbing his temples, "you've got no settlement and no alibi, while they've got hard evidence What do you expect us to do? We're attorneys, not magicians. This case is a sure loss unless you get someone bigger than the Heatons."
Elara asked, "Bigger? Who?"
Eric nodded toward the CEO's office. "Mr. Hartley. He's the only one who can go toe-to-toe with them."