Chapter 152


    The next morning, I woke up with a sense of dread that had be all too familiar. The events of


    the past few days had left me feeling tangled and confused. With a sigh, I got out of bed,


    determined to face the day ahead.


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    As I made my way to the kitchen, I noticed Aria absorbed in conversation on her phone, her


    laughter and giggles floating through the air. She had a new boyfriend, and it seemed like they were


    in the throes of a honeymoon phase. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy at the ease with which


    she had moved on, while I remained entangled in my own emotional turmoil.


    I approached her tentatively, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. “Aria, can I check the


    mail today?”


    She held up a finger, signaling for me to wait, before turning her attention back to her call. It was


    clear that her conversation was more important to her than my


    request.


    I tried to hide my irritation, offering a forced smile before walking away. The mailbox was just a short


    distance from our apartment, but the walk felt longer than usual. I couldn’t shake the feeling that I


    was trapped in a cycle of frustration and disappointment.


    As I reached the mailboxes, I hesitated for a moment, my hand hovering over the slot. I wasn’t


    expecting anything in particr, but the mundane task of checking the mail offered a temporary


    distraction from the chaos of my emotions.


    Just as I was about to insert my key into the mailbox, a voice from behind me sent a shiver down


    my spine. “Evie.”


    I froze, my heart pounding in my chest, and slowly turned around to face the one person I had been


    trying to avoid–Timothy. He stood there, his expression tense, his phone clenched in his hand.


    I swallowed hard, struggling to find my voice. “Timothy.”


    He had been in the midst of a heated conversation with Ste on the phone, and his frustration was


    palpable. The tension in the air was suffocating, and I couldn’t help but feel like an intruder in his


    world.


    Timothy hung up the phone abruptly, his gaze never leaving mine. “What are you


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    doing here?”


    I clenched my fists, my frustration boiling over. “I live here, Timothy. Just like you.”


    He let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Evie. I


    just…I’ve had a lot on my mindtely.”


    I couldn’t help the bitterness that seeped into my words. “Yeah, I can see that.”


    The silence that followed was suffused with tension, our unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a


    heavy cloud. I wanted to walk away, to put some distance between us, but I couldn’t bring myself to


    move.


    Timothy finally broke the silence, his voice weary. “Can we start over? I…I don’t want things to be


    like this between us. We were friends once.”


    “Yeah,” I said softly, meeting his eyes. “Hi, Timothy.”


    He nodded in acknowledgment, offering a warm smile. “Hi, Evie.”


    Right then, I couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t wearing his engagement ring, the absence of it


    like a ring omission in our conversation. I wondered if it was a deliberate choice or if there was a


    deeper meaning behind it.


    Before I could stop myself, the words tumbled out of my mouth. “You’re not wearing your ring.”


    Timothy’s response was immediate, his wordsced with a touch of defensiveness. “It’s for public


    appearances.”


    I nodded, though I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of bitterness at his exnation. It thought his


    rtionship with Ste had been genuine, if not a bit rocky. Here het was dismissing it as if it were


    merely a business contract and nothing deeper.


    He continued, his voice softening. I’m doing this for the child, Evie. I want the kid to have a good


    life, with both parents there for support.”


    I swallowed hard, the emotions welling up inside me. His words seemed to carry a hidden meaning,


    as if the stability extended to him as well.


    I tried to keep my demeanor cool, to maintain a fa?ade ofposure, but the urge to confide in


    Timothy about Ste and Andy gnawed at me. I had already tried to warn him once before, with the


    Erickson situation, and he hadn’t believed me


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    then. I feared he wouldn’t take my word for it this time either.


    I nodded in response to his words, my voice steady as I replied, “That’s really noble. of you.”


    He smiled, a hint of gratitude in his eyes. “I suppose. Thank you.”


    I nodded and turned to leave, though it felt like we each had more to say. As I walked away,


    clutching the package I had retrieved from the mailbox, I couldn’t escape the feeling that our


    encounter had only scratched the surface of what I may not have known.


    Back in the solitude of my apartment, I let out a long sigh and squeezed my eyes shut. Seeing


    Timothy again had left me feeling raw and exposed.


    As I walked into the living room, my eyes dropped to the package in my hands. Its presence was


    unexpected, as I hadn’t been anticipating any deliveries. I also noticed the absence of a return


    address, but against my better judgment, I decided to open it.


    Tearing open the package, I couldn’t have prepared myself for the grotesque contents that spilled


    out onto the floor. A dead raty before me, its lifeless body weathered and rotted. A note was


    attached to its leg, the words “Go back to the


    gutter


    and leave TELLA alone! XO” scrawled in jagged handwriting.


    The message sent a chill down my spine, and I gagged once the smell of dposed flesh hit me.


    Only a depraved person would go to this length, sending a dead animal’s body for the sake of two


    people who likely didn’t know of their existence.


    For a moment, I wondered if this was the work of Bruce, but then, the “XO” on the message caught


    my attention, and a different, equally disturbing, possibility surfaced. This might be the work of one


    of Timothy’s deranged fans, individuals. who had turned their obsession into a campaign of


    harassment and intimidation.


    Disgusted and horrified, I knew I had to get rid of it all. I wrapped the dead rat and the note in a


    stic bag, my hands trembling with revulsion. With the bag clenched tightly in my hand, I made my


    way to the apartment building’s dumpster.


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    The night was quiet, and a chill hung in the air. As I tossed the bag into the dumpster, I shivered


    with disgust.


    It struck me that the hardcore fans who had been relentless in shaming and harassing me had gone


    rtively quiet, outside of this. Perhaps they had been distracted by the flurry of wedding and baby


    announcements from Ste and Timothy, or maybe they had grown tired of their campaign against


    me.


    The uncertainty of the situation left me feeling more


    neasy, however. It was as if I were caught in a dangerous game with ever–shifting rules. I was


    working around powerful people with a world of influence backing them up.


    To them, I was the bug waiting to get stomped on. In that regard, Scarlett was right. If I wanted to


    survive, I was going to have to be an active yer.


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