Chapter 258

The click of Scarlett's heels on the polished office floor lingered in the air long after she had departed. Her parting words echoed in my mind like a cryptic melody. "I have a decision to make now."

What decision? What made it more unnerving was that her decision, likely about Stella, would be riding on my confession. What had I just done?

Before I could delve deeper into Scarlett’s motivations, my office phone erupted with a series of urgent calls. Work demanded my attention, dragging me away from the puzzle Scarlett had laid at my feet.

Hours slipped by, marked by the perpetual tick-tock of the clock on my wall. The office gradually grew quiet as the day waned, but my thoughts remained turbulent, swirling with questions I couldn't articulate.

Relief washed over me when Timothy appeared at my door bearing take-out containers from our favorite spot down the street. His warm smile helped ease away the tension in my shoulders.

"Hey," Timothy greeted me, setting the bags down on my cluttered desk. "I figured you could use some fuel. I got us some dinner."

“Yum!” I stood up and pecked him on the lips. “Let’s see what we have here.”

The savory aroma of noodles and spices filled the room after we’d popped open every container of food. We didn’t bother with plates.

As we savored the meal, Timothy's gaze became probing, and he seemed to sense my stress. "What did Scarlett want earlier?"

I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. "She was asking about what happened with Stella and Bruce."

Timothy's expression shifted, a subtle tension flickering across his features. "Why would she care about that? You don't owe her any explanations, Evie."

I shook my head and stuffed my mouth with chow mein, chewing long enough to formulate a response. "It was more of a civil discussion.”

"She’s a Fitzgerld. I doubt there aren’t ulterior motives," Timothy muttered, his protectiveness flaring up. "You don't need to justify yourself to her or anyone else."

"I know," I nodded, smiling at him. "It just felt... odd. Like she was trying to nudge me toward something, and I think something might be done about Stella."

"What do you think will happen with Stella?" Timothy asked.

I shrugged, wrestling with conflicting thoughts. "I wish I knew. Scarlett mentioned making a decision about something, so it sounds like Stella’s in trouble."

“Oh.” Timothy's jaw tensed.

I set aside my emptied carton and heaved a sigh. My headache seemed to be going away now that my belly was full, but the tension never left. “I’m just worried this is all going to blow up in my face.”

"I won’t let it,” came his quick response. His eyes narrowed. “They have nothing on you. That was all Bruce and Stella’s doing.”

"I know. It was just hard telling her everything. I’m sure she never imagined her own flesh and blood doing something so vile.”

The dim office lights cast elongated shadows across the walls. They made Timothy's expression look more intense as he slouched over and rubbed his jaw.

"I couldn’t believe it either, honestly," he said finally.

His words only fueled the question that had popped up in my mind. "Did she say anything to you when you found her? You mentioned finding her in the basement.”

Timothy's gaze softened. "She was barely hanging on," he began. "She’d bled out a lot, but I did as much as I could, and I tried to get some information out of her."

My breath caught in my throat, the image flooding back into my mind. "You kept her alive."

"Yeah," Timothy replied, his eyes glazing over. "Called the ambulance right away. She barely made it. It's a miracle she survived."

My mind reeled at the revelation. "That was noble of you," I murmured, struck by his compassion. “Even after all she’d done.”

“Was it?” Timothy shook his head, a somber smile playing at his lips. "Maybe. But honestly, after everything that happened, I couldn’t have blamed you if you weren't as generous in that position. She didn’t seem to care at all that she’d harmed you."

His words rattled me, stirring a torrent of conflicting emotions. Guilt intertwined with a sense of relief that someone had been there for Stella. She had a life growing inside of her, regardless of whatever dangers she wanted to get herself into.

"But don’t worry about her," Timothy added. "She can afford the best care. You had every right to look out for yourself in that situation."

I grappled with a sense of unease, my fingers tangling together. "Yeah, but do I seem okay?" The question slipped out before I could stop it.

Timothy's gaze lingered on me, his eyes scanning over me. "You look like the successful woman you were always meant to be," he replied earnestly.

I managed a faint smile, though my doubts lingered. Aria seemed adamant about me seeking help, but how much could someone truly help me? I wasn’t exactly enthralled by the idea of digging into my past with a complete stranger.

I decide to switch the subject, sensing Timothy’s discomfort. He seemed to be thinking deeply about it as well, and I didn’t want to ruin our night with yet another depressing topic. As we tossed away our trash, I decided to lighten the mood.

"You know," I remarked with a light chuckle, "I could get used to having your company around the office more often."

Timothy grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Oh, so I'm becoming your new office mascot now, am I?"

I laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet corridor as we made our way toward the exit. "Well, If you wanted, I could check and see if we have some spare pom-poms stashed away somewhere."

“Uh, I was thinking more along the lines of wearing an animal costume,” he said with a snort. “What’s your favorite animal?”

I lifted an eyebrow and smirked at him. “Plan on wearing a bunny costume?”

“Bunny’s can be cool,” he said, though I saw the blush creep up on his cheeks. “They’re fast…”

“Maybe just stick with the pom-poms,” I said, giggling.

Our footsteps echoed through the empty corridor, mingling with our laughter as we stepped out into the dimly lit parking lot. But the serenity shattered in an instant.

My heart lurched in panic as my eyes caught sight of a shadowy figure by Timothy's car, hunched over with something glinting in their hand. Before I could react, there was the unmistakable sound of metal swiping through the air, following by the hiss of air escaping his tires.

"No!" I gasped, clutching Timothy as the stranger began to stand.

In a heartbeat, Timothy reacted, swift and decisive. He lunged toward the assailant, his movements fluid and practiced. Without waiting a beat, the stranger bolted.

But Timothy was faster.

In a blur of movement, he tackled the fleeing figure, sending them crashing to the ground. My breath caught in my throat as the scuffle unfolded before me, an unsettling mix of adrenaline and dread coursing through my veins.

As Timothy wrestled with the assailant, they struggled against his firm grip, attempting to conceal their identity beneath a hooded jacket. With a swift, practiced motion, Timothy unveiled their face, and his skin pales.

"Andy?!" I exclaimed.