Others accused her of arrogance.
That evening, Sofia showed her a collection of online comments.
“People really hate you.”
Helena glanced at the screen.
“People who don’t know me.”
“Some of them know who you are.”
“That’s different.”
Sofia scrolled.
“Do you think he did it?”
Helena looked at her daughter.
“I don’t know.”
Sofia seemed surprised.
“Then why are you defending him?”
“Because the state has to prove its case.”
“Even if he did it?”
“Especially if the evidence is being tested. The rules don’t change depending on whether we like the accused.”
Sofia considered.
“But if you found out he did it?”
Helena hesitated.
The question was more complicated than her daughter realised.
A defence lawyer’s duties were not the same as a prosecutor’s. A confession could alter what counsel could ethically say or present, but representing an accused person did not require believing them innocent.
She explained this as carefully as she could.
Sofia listened.
Then asked, “Can somebody be good at their job and still do something wrong?”
Helena looked at her.
“Of course.”
Sofia nodded.
“I thought so.”
She returned to her room.
Helena stood alone in the kitchen.
The question remained with her.
Matthias was temporarily released under restrictive conditions in early spring after a procedural review and a reassessment of detention needs.
The decision caused public outrage.
Helena had argued that appropriate restrictions could address the relevant risks while the case continued.
It was a significant professional achievement.
Matthias thanked her outside the hearing room.
There were journalists nearby.
She avoided any display of familiarity.
He understood.
Only later, in a quiet corridor, did he speak to her privately.
“You’ve given me back the ability to breathe.”
Helena looked at him.
“Don’t mistake this for the end of the case.”
“I won’t.”
“You still face a serious charge.”
“I know.”
She nodded.
He watched her.
“I don’t think anyone has worked this hard for me in a very long time.”
Helena felt the remark in a way she did not want to acknowledge.
She closed her briefcase.
“That’s what you’ve retained me to do.”
He smiled faintly.
“Of course.”
She walked away.
But that evening, long after the hearing, she found herself remembering how he’d looked at her.
Not as a lawyer.
As though she were the only person in the world who had not abandoned him.
Part Two: The Exception
The first personal meeting between Helena and Matthias outside a formal legal setting occurred in Berlin.
The defence team had travelled there to examine records relating to Annika’s architectural consultancy and a series of business agreements between companies associated with the Lindholms.
Matthias had spent part of the previous year working in Berlin.
Several witnesses were based there.
Helena’s team arranged interviews and document reviews over three days.
On the second evening, Erik returned to Stockholm for another hearing.
Freja remained at the hotel preparing notes.
Helena went out for dinner alone.
The restaurant was small and dimly lit, on a side street in Charlottenburg.
She had ordered fish and a glass of wine when Matthias appeared at the entrance.
He spotted her.
Stopped.
For a moment, she considered pretending not to see him.
Then he approached.
“I didn’t know you’d be here.”
Neither did she believe him entirely.
He asked whether he could sit.
Helena looked at the empty chair.
She should have refused.
There were professional boundaries for a reason.
Instead, she said, “For a few minutes.”
He sat opposite her.
They spoke about Berlin.
The cold weather.
The buildings.
A small exhibition she’d visited earlier that afternoon.
For once, he did not mention the case.
Helena discovered that she enjoyed the absence of it.
He was well read, observant, and capable of discussing architecture with genuine knowledge rather than the vague enthusiasm of someone trying to impress her.
When the waiter brought dessert, Matthias ordered coffee.
He asked why Helena had become a lawyer.
She told him about her father, a schoolteacher who believed institutions should be challenged when they became complacent.
Matthias listened closely.
“What did he think of your career?”
“He died before the firm became successful.”
“I’m sorry.”
Helena nodded.
“He’d have been proud.”
“Would he?”
She looked at him.
“Of the work. Not necessarily of everything I’ve done to keep doing it.”
Matthias was quiet.
Then he asked about Sofia.
Helena looked away.
“She thinks I work too much.”
“Does she?”
“Probably.”
He smiled faintly.
“You don’t seem like somebody who enjoys being wrong.”
“I’m capable of it.”
“Are you?”
She laughed.
It surprised her.
For the first time in months, she felt that someone had noticed the woman beneath the professional competence.
That feeling should have worried her.
Instead, she lingered.
They stayed until the restaurant began closing.
Outside, Berlin was cold.
Matthias offered to walk with her.
She declined.
He accepted the refusal without argument.
At the taxi rank, he turned.
“Helena.”
She looked back.
“Thank you for treating me like a person.”
She stood beside the waiting taxi.
The words touched something vulnerable in her.
She nodded.
Then got into the car.
All the way to her hotel, she told herself the evening had been harmless.
