Chapter 284

TIMOTHY POV

Timothy sat slumped in the hard metal chair, his hands cuffed behind his back. His eyes darted around the interrogation room, his breaths shallow and rapid. He refused to speak, even as they spat out question after question. The police had been interrogating him for hours, but he held firm, waiting for his lawyer to arrive.

Detective Martinez, a burly man with a stern countenance, leaned across the table. "Look, Timothy, we know you were at the scene of the crime. You can make this easier on yourself if you just cooperate."

Timothy remained silent, his jaw clenched tight. He knew the consequences of speaking without legal counsel present. Evie had given him a good amount of incite on these things.

Martinez exchanged a glance with his partner, Detective Reynolds. "Enough of this nonsense," Reynolds muttered, stepping forward.

Before Timothy could react, Reynolds lunged and grabbed him by the collar, yanking him out of the chair. Timothy winced as the handcuffs dug into his wrists, but he refused to cry out. He stared Reynolds down as the other man stood over him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Timothy exclaimed through gritted teeth as Reynolds tightened his grip, pressing him against the wall. The room spun for a moment as his head snapped back.

Martinez stepped closer, a dangerous glint in his eye. "We can do whatever it takes to get answers, Timothy. You're not leaving until you talk."

Timothy's breath hitched as Martinez's fist collided with his stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Pain shot through his body, but he suppressed a cry, his determination solidifying. His lawyer would be here soon; he just had to hold on.

"You're crossing a line!" Timothy managed to gasp, his voice strained.

But Martinez and Reynolds seemed unaffected by his protests. They exchanged a glance and moved to tighten their hold on Timothy, aiming to break his resolve through brute force.

Timothy squared his shoulders, his jaw clenched in determination as he faced the two officers standing over him. He refused to yield for a crime he had no part in. They could believe whatever narrative they wanted, but he wouldn’t cave.

One of the officers leaned in, his voice a menacing growl. "You think you can stay silent and get away with this?"

Timothy narrowed his eyes at them, hoping that his silence spoke louder than any words he could muster.

Frustration boiled within him as the officers grew rough, their hands tightening around his arms while they hauled him off the ground. As they threw him in the chair, Martinez slammed a hand on the table.

“Is this the route you want to go?” asked Martinez as he cracked his knuckles. “Because I haven’t given a good beat down in a minute.”

Just then, the door to the interrogation room burst open, and a sharp-suited lawyer stormed in, fury etched on his face. Relief washed over Timothy and he slumped in his seat.

"What the hell is going on here?" Mr. Wilkes demanded, his voice cutting through the tense atmosphere.

Martinez and Reynolds released Timothy, stepping back as the lawyer stood between them.

"I demand an explanation for this blatant disregard of my client's rights!" he barked, fixing the detectives with an intense glare.

Martinez spoke briefly, “Look. We were just-”

Mr. Wilkes swiftly produced documents, asserting Timothy's right to remain silent until legal counsel was present.

"You've violated his rights, and any information obtained during this unlawful coercion will be inadmissible," he declared firmly.

Timothy took a few ragged breaths, leaning against the table for support, his eyes locked with his lawyer's. Gratitude flooded his chest; he had arrived just in time.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Wilkes asked as he came over to Timothy.

Timothy nodded weakly, his body still trembling from the harsh blows. "Thank you for coming. They... they were going to force me to talk."

He placed a comforting hand on Timothy’s shoulder. "You did the right thing by staying silent. Now, let's focus on your defense."

The officers hesitated, exchanging dubious glances. "He's trying to use his privilege to skirt the law," Reynolds spat out, eyeing Timothy with thinly veiled disdain.

Mr. Wilke’s gaze bore into the officers with a steely determination. "My client has every right to legal representation. Any further mistreatment will be met with legal action."

The tension in the room simmered as the lawyer took charge, demanding an explanation for Timothy's arrest. The officers, however, remained obstinate, adamant in their belief that they had sufficient evidence against Timothy.

"We have footage," one officer announced smugly, a glint of triumph in his eyes.

Timothy's heart sank as the officers played the surveillance footage—a distorted view of him entering Stella's hotel room, followed by him leaving, the scene tinged with an ominous aura. His stomach churned at the implication of the visual narrative—a potential altercation with Stella.

"That doesn't prove anything," Wilkes interjected, his voice laced with skepticism. "There’s no evidence of any wrongdoing."

"We have witnesses placing him at the scene," the other officer retorted, unfazed by the lawyer's objections. “And he looked a little less calm when he was rushing out of the lady’s place like that, versus when he went in.”

Timothy's mind raced, grappling with the sudden weight of the evidence against him. He was certain that he hadn't engaged in any altercation with Stella, but the footage painted a damning picture.

"We were only talking," Timothy asserted.

The lawyer shot him a reassuring glance before turning back to the officers. "There must be a mistake. My client was wrongfully arrested for a crime you believe took place. You have no concrete evidence tying him to any crime."

“We do,” Reynolds declared "We found Timothy’s blood on Stella. Her teeth and nails contained his DNA,"

Timothy's mouth opened, words struggling to form an adequate defense, but his lawyer intervened, raising a hand to silence him. "Let me handle this," he urged, his voice steady despite the unsettling revelations.

The lawyer shifted his focus to the officers. "Stella Fitzgerald had a history of emotional instability, exacerbated by her tumultuous relationship with Evie Sinclair. There were episodes where her mental state was precarious, which could have contributed to her actions."

The officers exchanged skeptical glances, unmoved by the lawyer's explanation. "Your client isn't a stranger to violence either," one of them countered. "He shot that Bruce guy. That gives us reason to believe he's got a penchant for trouble."

Timothy clenched his fists, frustration simmering beneath the surface. "That was a mistake! I never intended—"

"Let me handle this, Timothy," the lawyer intervened firmly. "Yes, he shot Bruce, but that incident doesn't define his character. It was an unfortunate event in self-defense."

Timothy's eyes narrowed. "I met Stella, yes, but it wasn't willingly. She begged me to speak on her behalf before she was imprisoned. I decided to go so I could warn her about Evie, about staying away from her."

Martinez regarded him skeptically, hardly masking his doubt. "So, you admit meeting her," he remarked with a hint of accusation.

Timothy's jaw tensed. "Yes, but it was against my will. I was coerced into it by her father."

The lawyer interjected, "There was physical conflict between them, but it was provoked by Stella. She attacked him."

The officers remained unconvinced. "We have evidence suggesting otherwise," one of them retorted, pointing to the claw marks on Timothy's arms. "Looks like defensive wounds."

Timothy's frustration bubbled up. "Because she attacked me! I was trying to protect myself!"

The lawyer raised a hand to quell the rising tension. "This will be a matter for the judge to decide. For now, we're done here for the day."

As the officers led Timothy back to his cell, a heavy cloud of uncertainty hung over him. The weight of the evidence stacked against him threatened to crush any hope he held onto.

His lawyer, sensing Timothy's despondency, spoke quietly, "I'll do what I can. For now, getting you out on bail is our best option. We'll work from there."

Timothy nodded, even as the doubt and worry continued to claw at him.