Chapter 165

Pierre Whitlaw explained nonchalantly, “My wife and her family are extremely successful business

people. They gift me all sorts o f branded items on various occasions.”

The prosecutor asked, “So, you’re saying that the government funds which entered into your account

were untouched?”

“You clearly have evidence that shows otherwise. Although I admit knowing that the missing Duke

channeled some kind of money into my account to force my silence, I do not admit knowing where the

money had come from or where it had gone to.”

“You didn’t know that the money being channeled into your account was rightfully the government’s?”

“No.”

“Neither do you know where it was spent?”

“Indeed.”

The prosecutor then said, “Let’s see if I can jog your memory, Mr Whitlaw. Perhaps the funds were spent

to help your in-laws and your wife start their businesses?”

There were oohs and ahhs from journalists before Whitlaw answered, “I admit to chipping in a small

portion.”

The prosecutor raised an eyebrow and proceeded to comment, “We have a very different definition of the

word ‘small’, Mr Whitlaw. You chipped in ninety-five percent of all their businesses, ranging between a

few hundred thousand to a million each.”

Whitlaw shrugged despite the gasps from the journalists when he said, “I’ll do anything to help my

family.” “Even if it means stealing from the government?” She pressed.

Whitlaw immediately clarified, “Allow me to rephrase. What I meant to say was: I’ll do anything legal to

help my family.”

“So, where did the millions you chipped in come from, Mr Whitlaw?”

“I assumed that it was my legit savings. I have been serving the people for a long time, since the late

King Lucas’s reign. So, I assumed that what I spent was what I earned.”

“Did you spend a cent of your salary before you met Mrs Whitlaw?”

“Yes, but very frugally.”

“The mansion you lived in, the limited edition car you owned and the designer wallets you collected at

that time?”

“Gifts from friends and my side of the family.”

“And what do you gift them in return?”

Whitlaw sighed in despair as he said, “Nothing major, I’m afraid. Being in my position, I avoid buying

them branded goods. The media has a terrible way of portraying such purchases made by a minister.”

She went on, “Would you say that you return their gifts by helping them stay afloat if their businesses

struggle?”

“Indeed.” Whitlaw responded affirmatively.

“How do you help?”

“I offer solutions, workable ones.”

The prosecutor’s eyes bore into Whitlaw’s own as she questioned, “Such as?”

“Well, I’d introduce them to friends who can help turn their businesses around, I’d.”

“Offer money?”

“Sometimes.”

“In the millions?”

“I don’t know the exact figure. It varies greatly.”

“I have to agree that it does.” The prosecutor flipped the page over as she said in a loud and clear voice,

“It varies between a million t o a billion.” Silence ensued, and the prosecutor continued, “You said that

you helped your wife start her business?”

“Yes.”

“What does she do?”

“She designs the most beautiful jewellery.”

“How’s her jewellery business?”

“It’s doing quite well, as far as I know. It just celebrated its fourteenth anniversary three weeks ago. She

has quite the talent.”

His wife’s lips curled up into an arrogant smile when she felt everyone’s stare on her. Mis Whitlaw finally

got the attention she had been craving for ever since she entered the courtroom. She made sure she

dressed well for the cameras. But everyone’s eyes kept going to the plain-looking wolf for some reason.

Now, Mrs Whitlaw had the attention she rightfully deserved. Seducing Pierre Whitlaw was the best

investment she had ever made for herself and her family.

The prosecutor proceeded to say, “Mr Whitlaw, I don’t know about her talent in jewellery design but her

talent in keeping her business afloat despite the years of deficit proves to be extraordinary, even

impossible, I must say.”

‘A woman of multiple talents. She turns the impossible to the possible.”

“If that is so, why did you pour millions into her bank account every month as soon as her business was

close to bankruptcy, which was…she checked the figure and said, “…twelve years ago until your

accounts were frozen last week?”

“I didn’t make such transactions.”

“Everything is in black and white. This document clearly states that the transactions were made from

your bank account to hers, minister.”

That doesn’t mean I made the transfer. You should check with my bankers.”

“We have, Mr Whitlaw. And what we found is that you used your thumbprint to verify each transaction

before the funds were disbursed into Mrs Whitlaw’s account. Are you saying that someone may have

stolen your thumbprint?”

“I’m simply saying that I have no recollection of such a transfer, prosecutor.”

“Do you have any recollection of Mrs Whitlaw promising you sexual intercourse over the phone after

you’ve made each transfer?” A few journalists and reporters accidentally snorted, and earned stern

glares from Judge Cook. Mrs Whitlaw stiffened visibly. She was warned about this portion of evidence

that the prosecution had against her husband but it didn’t make it any easier to appear unperturbed when

she was feeling embarrassed on the inside. Weren’t their phone calls supposed to be private?

“Mr Whitlaw, do you have any such recollection?” The prosecutor pressed the minister.

Whitlaw’s lips trembled before he uttered a fearful, “N-No.”

“And what about…”

Suddenly, Mr Clark stood and said, “My Lord, I ask that the court adjourn for a few minutes. My client’s

doctors had advised that he’d be given a five-minute break after twenty minutes of questioning. Here’s

the recommendation letter.” Mi Clark ignored the enraged prosecutor, and handed a single sheet of

paper to the judge. Judge Cook skimmed through it while the prosecutor scowled at the defense counsel.

Pierre Whitlaw was praying to the Goddess, asking her to forgive him for any misdeeds he committed in

the past and spare him by granting him an adjournment now.

Unfortunately for Whitlaw, the head of the courtroom was Judge Cook, not the Moon Goddess. The

judge handed the letter back to a very hopeful Mr Clark and firmly declared, “Request denied, Mr Clark.

The prosecution may proceed with questioning.”

The hope in Mr Clark’s eyes shattered as he stammered, “B-But, my Lor-”

Judge Cook’s eyes were partially onyx when it bore into Mr Clark’s lilac ones as the old man said, “Need

I teach you how to read a simple recommendation letter, Mr Clark?! It says that your client only requires

such breaks if he is suffering from blurring vision, nausea, cold sweat AND weakened physique! Look at

your own client, Mr Clark! Is he exhibiting any such symptoms?!”

Mr Clark stammered when he gave one final shot when his client was begging him through his eyes. “M-

My Lord, m-my client isn’t exhibiting any such symptoms right now because…he took his medication this

morning, and the symptoms may return soon if he isn’t given a break.”

Judge Cook took a deep breath to control his internal fury before looking at the minister and asked, “Do

you have your medication with you, Mr Whitlaw?”

“Y-Yes, judge.” Whitlaw answered doubtfully. Mr Clark pressed his eyes closed in dismay at the wrong

answer his client had chosen to give

Judge Cook then said, “Good, Bailiff, fetch Mr Whitlaw some water, please. He’ll take his medication here

and we can continue with the questioning.” Mr Clark had hoped that Whitlaw would be smart enough to

say that his medication was not with him so that Judge Cook would grant an adjournment. But clearly,

Whitlaw did not exhibit such intelligence.”

As Judge Cook started tapping his pen, the bailiff immediately dashed to the cooler in the courtroom,

extracted a polystyrene cup and filled it with warm water before bringing it to Whitlaw. The minister got

out the strip of tablets from his pocket, extracted a pill before putting it into his mouth and drowning it

down with water while everyone waited.

Judge Cook’s pen stopped tapping when he heard Whitlaw drowning down the last of the water in his

mouth. “Well, now that that’s settled. Prosecutor, proceed.”

Whitlaw was getting fearful now. His demeanor got everyone curious. He seemed okay the entire

morning. Sure. Firm. Hopeful. Why did he and his lawyer look like they were going to be knocked down

by a big baseball bat that they couldn’t escape from?

The prosecutor ignored the two men and continued her line of questioning, “Mr Whitlaw, if you don’t

recall making bank transactions to any of your family members, do you at least recall the ones made to a

woman by the name of Zina Pova?”

“What?!” Mrs Whitlaw’s hushed exclamation was heard by everyone in the courtroom as her eyes

widened and her relaxed posture tensed up. When Lucianne turned to look at her with everyone else,

what she saw behind the stunning woman’s eyes was shock, betrayal and, most of all, anger!