Chapter 289

The sight of the officers approaching our car filled me with a knot of anxiety, their stern demeanor sending a ripple of unease through me. I glanced at Timothy, my concern mirrored in his eyes as we awaited the impending confrontation. When one of the officers signaled for us to roll down the window, I held my breath, bracing for what was to come.

"What's going on?" Timothy asked.

The officer's stern expression remained unchanged as he explained, "Mr. Hayes, as part of your bail conditions, you're not allowed to have any company over."

My heart sank at the realization, and I glanced at Timothy. "Can't this be negotiated further?" I implored. The idea of separating from Timothy felt like a heavy blow, but I knew I couldn't jeopardize his situation further.

"I'm afraid it's not up for negotiation," the officer stated firmly.

Timothy's gaze softened, and he cupped my cheek. "Evie," he began, his voice tinged with regret, "maybe it's best if you distance yourself for now."

Tears pricked my eyes, but I swallowed hard, pushing down the ache in my chest. "I’m helping you, even if I can’t always see you. People can think what they want.”

"Evie," Timothy began, a sense of resignation coloring his tone.

He didn’t say it, but I could tell how conflicted I was making him. Perhaps it wasn’t fair for me to push so hard right now. He seemed to be hurting more by me being there to witness it.

“Fine, I’ll go,” I said finally. "But I'll still come to your hockey game," I offered, hoping to maintain some semblance of connection. But Timothy seemed doubtful.

He pulled me into an embrace and kissed me softly, hardly paying our audience any mind. I clenched the material of his jacket before forcing myself to pull away.

“You going up?”

“No,” I answered. “I have some errands to run.”

He nodded. “I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely. I’m your good luck charm, remember?”

He smirked, but it fell quickly as he turned away and headed into the building. With one last wave, the door shut behind him. I turned to Quinton, who was already looking at me in anticipation.

“Some errands?” he questioned as we walked back to the car.

I turned to him, a plan already forming in my mind. "Quinton, could you escort me to John Waters' place? He's the prosecutor for Timothy's case. I need to speak with him."

Quinton nodded solemnly. "Of course."

We headed to John Waters' firm, my mind racing with possibilities. As we arrived, I approached the receptionist, determination propelling me forward. "I need to see Mr. Waters, please. It's urgent," I requested.

The receptionist eyed me with a dismissive air, but my next words seemed to pique her interest. "I'm Evie Sinclair, by the way," I stated firmly, hoping that my name might carry some weight.

Recognition flickered across the receptionist's face, her demeanor shifting slightly. "Wait here," she instructed, disappearing into the inner offices.

Minutes passed, each second feeling like an eternity as I anxiously awaited a response. Finally, the receptionist returned, her expression more accommodating this time. "Mr. Waters will see you," she announced.

I expected he to guide me to his office, but more surprisingly, John Waters walked into the room. His composed demeanor revealed little as he glanced at me. There was an air of anticipation surrounding his presence, as if he had been expecting my arrival.

"Ms. Sinclair, I presume?" John spoke, his voice measured and calm.

"Yes," I confirmed, taken aback by his apparent knowledge of me.

We made our way into his office, but any semblance of cordiality was short-lived.

"So, Evie, defending a killer now, are we? All for the sake of your own vanity?" John's words struck me like a blow, his tone dripping with disdain.

I was taken aback by the accusation, my mind racing to comprehend the insinuation. "I don't understand what you mean," I countered.

John's gaze bore into mine, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "You and Stella never saw eye to eye, did you?" he remarked, as if it were some hidden mystery. "And it wasn't too long ago that Stella was engaged to Timothy, no?"

My breath caught in my throat at the mention of Stella, memories of past tensions surfacing. "What does that have to do with anything?" I demanded.

John leaned back in his chair, a knowing smile playing at his lips. "It makes you just as suspicious.”

I scoffed in disbelief. "That's preposterous," I retorted, trying to mask my growing unease. "I have nothing to do with any of this."

"But you're deeply involved now, aren't you?" John pressed on, his words calculated. “The rebound, as they call it.”

"Why do you seem so knowledgeable about Timothy's family life?" I questioned.

John's expression remained stoic. "My father and I have had dealings with Kamran Hayes for quite some time," he revealed, his words loaded with implication.

Realization dawned on me, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "You want to destroy Timothy so that your family can acquire his family’s assets," I concluded. “No one even has all the evidence here.”

John's nonchalant shrug only added to my growing frustration. "Business is business, Evie," he quipped.

His indifference was grating on my nerves. An innocent man’s life was at stake, and here he was spouting toneless quips about the business world.

"This is purely unethical!" I protested, unable to contain my outrage any longer. “You’re being incredibly callous.”

John remained unmoved, his stance unyielding. "Timothy doesn't know much about ethics, does he?" John taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "Shooting a man in cold blood and likely throwing a woman off a building—hardly ethical behavior."

I stood there, rooted to the spot, trying to contain the fury and disbelief rising within me. Timothy, capable of such monstrous acts? It was inconceivable. The man I knew was kind, compassionate, and gentle. He could never harm another human being, let alone commit such atrocities.

But John's poison lingered, his words a constant assault on Timothy's character. I felt a surge of anger, but I knew showing my emotions would only feed into John's game.

"I'll leave now," I said tersely, trying to keep my voice steady despite the fury bubbling within.

John merely smirked, a self-satisfied gleam in his eyes. "Of course, Evie. I'm sure you have much to contemplate."

As I exited the building, I struggled to maintain my composure. John's accusations echoed in my mind, a persistent voice of doubt clawing at my convictions. But deep down, I knew Timothy could never be capable of such horrors.

I tried to push aside John's vile insinuations, focusing instead on the memories I held of Timothy—his infectious laughter, his genuine concern for others, his unwavering loyalty. Those were the truths I chose to hold onto amidst the storm of accusations.

I refused to let doubt cloud my judgment. Timothy was not the monster John portrayed him to be. I had to believe in his goodness, to trust in the man I knew him to be—a man unjustly targeted by those seeking power and greed.