Chapter 315

The imposing glass doors of Andy's office building loomed before me, and I squared my shoulders, determined to face the man who had caused so much turmoil in my life. As I approached the security desk, a burly guard eyed me suspiciously.

"I need to speak with Andy," I declared, my voice unwavering.

The guard raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Mr. Hayes isn't taking visitors at the moment. You'll have to schedule an appointment."

I could feel my frustration mounting. Time was of the essence, and I couldn't afford to play by the rules. "This is urgent. I won't take up much of his time. Just let him know Evie is here."

The guard remained stoic, unmoved by my plea. "I'm sorry, miss. No exceptions."

I took a deep breath, suppressing the rising anger within me. But as I turned away, a surge of determination propelled me forward. I couldn't wait for an appointment; I needed answers now. Ignoring the protests of the security guard, I marched towards the elevator and pressed the button for Andy's floor.

The reception area was deserted as I approached Andy's office. The door was slightly ajar, and a sense of urgency gripped me. I pushed the door open, and my eyes widened at the sight that unfolded before me.

Andy lay sprawled on his office couch, a whiskey bottle precariously balanced on the edge of the coffee table. The stench of alcohol permeated the air, and the dim light accentuated the disarray of his surroundings.

"Andy!" I called out, my voice echoing through the room. "We need to talk."

He didn't respond, lost in a drunken stupor. Panic set in as I rushed to his side, realizing the gravity of his state. His eyes were closed, and I shook him, desperately attempting to rouse him from his alcohol-induced slumber.

Then it hit me. He wasn't just asleep; he was blackout drunk. My mind raced as I grappled with the situation. This wasn't how I had envisioned confronting him, but I couldn't afford to wait until he was sober.

The door swung open, and security guards burst into the room, their eyes narrowing at the scene before them. "What the hell is going on here?" one of them demanded.

I shot a desperate look at Andy, hoping he would come to his senses and save me from the impending trouble. But he remained motionless on the couch, oblivious to the chaos unfolding around him.

"I really need to talk to him," I explained, my voice tinged with frustration.

The guards weren't buying it. They approached, ready to forcibly remove me from the room. Panic set in as I resisted, pleading with them to let me stay.

Just as they were about to drag me away, Andy stirred. He sat up, disheveled and bleary-eyed, casting a disdainful glance at the security guards. "Hold on, gentlemen. I wouldn't mind a bit of entertainment."

The guards hesitated, glancing at each other uncertainly. Andy waved them off, and they reluctantly retreated, leaving me alone with the drunken mess before me.

I took a step back, my gaze locked with Andy's. "What the hell, Evie? What are you doing here?" he slurred, his words barely coherent.

I hesitated, weighing my words carefully. "I need to talk to you about Timothy and the gun you gave him."

Andy's eyes narrowed, the drunken haze momentarily lifted. "Ah, so that's why you're here. You think I had something to do with what happened to Timothy?"

I nodded, my anger bubbling to the surface. "I know you gave him a gun, Andy. What were you thinking?"

He chuckled, a bitter sound that sent shivers down my spine. "Timothy needed protection. It's a dangerous world out there. I was just looking out for him."

I scoffed, incredulous at his lack of remorse. "Looking out for him? You gave him a firearm, which he’s not allowed to own! Your so-called “protection” only fueled the fire."

Andy's gaze darkened, and he leaned in, his words laced with a sinister edge. "You think you know everything, don't you, Evie? But you're just scratching the surface."

I clenched my fists, frustration and anger coursing through my veins. "What do you mean?"

He smirked, a twisted satisfaction in his eyes. "Timothy did what needed to be done. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."

I recoiled at his callousness, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place. "What greater good? What are you involved in, Andy?"

He chuckled, leaning back on the couch as if reveling in my confusion. "You're in over your head, Evie. Just like Timothy was when he decided to fuck me over with Stella."

I took a step back, the weight of the truth settling on my shoulders. "I won't let you manipulate me any longer, Andy. Whatever sick game you and your family are playing, I'm done being a pawn."

He laughed, a hollow sound that echoed through the room. "You can't escape it, Evie. The game has just begun."

The air in Andy's office hung heavy with tension as he fumbled to lock the door. Stunned by the revelation of Andy’s loose tongue, I felt a surge of anxiety and suspicion. Andy's suddenly hurried actions only heightened my unease.

"What the hell, Andy?" I demanded, my voice sharp with frustration.

Andy shot me a sidelong glance, his face contorted in a mix of annoyance and panic. "That idiot can't keep his mouth shut. I thought he understood the stakes, but I should’ve known he’d tell you."

I raised an eyebrow, my skepticism evident. "Stakes? What are you talking about, Andy? What did you do?"

He hesitated, his eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. "I didn't do anything. Timothy just got nervous, started talking. It's not my fault."

The way he deflected blame only fueled my suspicion. "Nervous about what? What's going on, Andy?"

He sighed, the weight of a guilty conscience etched on his face. "Look, Evie, I don’t know why he keeps dragging you into this mess, but since Timothy can't keep his mouth shut, I guess I have to tell you my side, since it’s only fair."

I listened intently, my anger simmering beneath the surface. "Start talking."

Andy rubbed his temples, as if trying to stave off a headache. "That gun... I found it one day. It was just lying around in my father's room."

My eyes widened at the revelation. "Your father's room? Why were you even looking around in there?"

A nervous energy emanated from Andy as he finally admitted, "I was doing my own digging. I was nervous about what really happened that night with Stella."

My heart pounded as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. "What do you mean? What happened that night?"

Andy hesitated, his eyes avoiding mine. "I saw Stella briefly before it all happened. We were arguing on the balcony. She was shouting, I was shouting. It got heated, and I... I shoved her roughly. Then I stormed off."

A chill ran down my spine as I processed his words. The balcony, the argument, the shove – it all seemed to align with the events leading to Stella's tragic fall. My mind raced, connecting the dots, and I couldn't shake the horrifying suspicion that Andy might have been the one responsible.

"You think…you think you shoved her off the balcony?" I whispered.