Chapter 270

TIMOTHY POV

Timothy blinked, astonished and slightly unnerved to see Mr. Fitzgerald staring back at him.

"Mr. Fitzgerald, what are you doing here?" Timothy asked, a mix of surprise and suspicion in his voice.

The older man seemed reserved, his normally confident demeanor replaced by a sense of urgency. "Timothy, I've been looking for you," he replied, his tone measured but urgent.

"Looking for me?" Timothy's eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

"Come outside with me. I need to talk to you," Mr. Fitzgerald said, gesturing toward the exit.

Timothy followed him outside, his heart pounding. As they stepped through the doors, Timothy's eyes fell on a sleek car parked nearby. He turned to Mr. Fitzgerald, confusion etched on his face. "What's going on?"

"Get in the car, Timothy. No fuss," Mr. Fitzgerald instructed, his tone brooking no argument.

Timothy hesitated, a sense of foreboding settling in his stomach. "I can't just go with you. Tell me what's going on."

Mr. Fitzgerald's eyes bore into Timothy's, a hint of desperation flickering in them. "You're going to see my daughter."

Timothy's breath caught in his throat. "Your daughter?" His mind raced, trying to process the implications of those words. He took a step back, shaking his head. "I can't do this. I don't want to be a part of your family's mess anymore."

"You don't have a choice," Mr. Fitzgerald's voice hardened, his patience waning. "You owe her this much, Timothy. Get in the car."

Timothy's pulse quickened, his frustration boiling over. "I owe her nothing! I've had enough of your family's expectations, their drama. I'm done!"

Mr. Fitzgerald's expression turned steely, his patience wearing thin. "You think this is about expectations? This is about closure. For her and for you. Don't you want that?"

Timothy's jaw clenched as conflicting emotions surged within him. He was curious to hear how Stella was justify herself now that she was in a better condition, but he knew it would only lead to more lies.

"You have no idea what I want or need. Just leave me alone,” said Timothy.

The tension crackled between them. Timothy's fists clenched at his sides and his gaze bore into Mr. Fitzgerald's, a silent challenge.

"I'm not going," Timothy stated firmly, his voice unwavering.

Mr. Fitzgerald's eyes softened momentarily before hardening again. "Fine. If you won't come willingly, I'll have to insist."

Before Timothy could react, Mr. Fitzgerald reached for his arm, his grip firm. Instinctively, Timothy jerked away. "Let go of me!"

Their voices echoed in the empty parking lot, the tension escalating. Timothy glanced around, seeking an escape route.

“Timothy, please!” The desperation was more evident now, creating tension in the old man’s features. He hunched over, shoulders trembling as he regarded Timothy with wide eyes. “At least see her. She’s my…”

Hearing him succumb to tears, Timothy couldn’t help but pay attention. He’d never seen this man, so cruel and cut-throat, break down. Perhaps he could say yes now, just to pacify everyone at the moment.

Timothy sat in the passenger seat of Mr. Fitzgerald's car, the tension between them palpable. The drive to an undisclosed location had been silent, each lost in their thoughts. The only sound was the low hum of the engine as the car cut through the night.

As they arrived at a nondescript hotel, Mr. Fitzgerald turned off the engine and turned to Timothy. "We'll have to lay low for a while. Follow me," he said, stepping out of the car.

Timothy hesitated for a moment, but as he looked at Mr. Fitzgerald, a sense of resignation settled in. He knew he couldn't evade this any longer. With a heavy sigh, he followed Mr. Fitzgerald into the hotel.

Guided by Mr. Fitzgerald, they navigated through the quiet corridors until they reached a room. Mr. Fitzgerald paused and turned to Timothy, his eyes pleading. "This is where she's staying. Just… please hear her out, Timothy."

With a reluctant nod, Timothy steeled himself and knocked on the door. His heart raced as it swung open, revealing Stella standing before him.

"Timothy! I'm so glad you finally came," Stella exclaimed, her voice tinged with relief.

Timothy's expression remained stoic. "Make it quick," he said curtly, pushing past her into the room.

Stella's smile faltered, sensing the coldness in Timothy's demeanor. "Please, make yourself comfortable," she offered, gesturing toward a chair.

"That's not happening," Timothy retorted sharply, folding his arms across his chest. "You have a lot of explaining to do, especially after what you did to Evie."

Stella's face paled at the mention of Evie's name. "They're trying to charge me with attempted murder and kidnapping," she admitted, desperation creeping into her voice.

Timothy's eyes narrowed. "It serves you right," he replied bitterly, his anger simmering just beneath the surface.

"Timothy, please," Stella pleaded, her voice shaking. "I need your help. You have to speak in my favor, explain to them that I could never plot a murder in my condition."

"Why should I help you after everything?" Timothy's voice cracked with emotion, memories of the past flooding back, reopening old wounds.

Stella took a step closer, her eyes pleading for understanding. "I made mistakes, terrible mistakes, but I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I was scared, lost... Please, Timothy, you know me. You know I'm not capable of what they're accusing me of."

Timothy wavered, torn between his anger and the faint glimmer of the friendship they once shared. "I don't know anything anymore," he admitted, his voice softer now, filled with conflict.

"You know I never wanted to hurt anyone, especially not Evie," Stella implored, tears welling up in her eyes. "I'll do anything to make it right, to make amends. Please, Timothy, I need you."

A surge of resistance coursed through Timothy. "I don't want anything from you," he snapped, his voice firm and resolute.

Determined to leave, Timothy turned towards the door, his hand reaching for the knob. But before he could escape, Stella's cries pierced the air. She lunged forward, attempting to physically restrain him.

"Let go!" Timothy's voice was sharp as he tried to evade her grasp, his muscles tensed with a growing panic.

Stella had gone wild, kicking and screaming as she latched onto him.

“Timothy, please! They can bring me down for this, and I’ll never see the light of day. Think of my baby!”

“Stella, stop!” Timothy cried out, hissing as her nails dug into the skin of his arms. He lifted them up, attempting to shield himself from her.

But in a moment of sheer desperation, she sank her teeth into Timothy's arm. Pain shot through him, but he resisted the urge to retaliate, focusing on freeing himself.

Timothy managed to throw Stella off, his heart pounding in his chest as he darted towards the door. He gripped the handle, pulling it shut behind him, the echo of Stella's cries reverberating in the hallway.

"Timothy, wait! Please, don't leave me!" Stella's voice was laced with desperation and anguish, her pleas echoing through the corridor.

With his heart racing and his mind reeling, Timothy leaned against the door, pressing his weight to keep it closed. Stella banged on the other side, her cries turning into gut-wrenching sobs. The struggle against the door intensified as she fought to break free.

"Let me out, Timothy! Please, I need your help!" Stella's voice was wrought with agony, her pounding against the door growing more frantic.

"I can't help you, Stella," Timothy called through the door, his chest tightening. "I'm sorry."

He hesitated for a moment, contemplating his next move, torn between pity and self-preservation. The weight of the situation pressed heavily upon him, but he knew he had to leave. He stepped away from the door, his footsteps quickening as he hurried down the corridor.

The cries from Stella faded into the distance as he made his escape. As he reached the exit of the hotel, the cool night air washed over him, offering a fleeting sense of relief.

Timothy paused, his breaths coming in ragged gasps, the sting of Stella's bite still throbbing in his arm. He looked around the parking lot and nearly cursed when his suspicions were confirmed.

Mr. Fitzgerald had already left.