Love Rents A Room
Chapter 107: Philip’s Dilemma

Chapter 107: Philip’s Dilemma

Unlike her calm, measured response after her own near-death experience, this time, Joanne was in full-blown panic mode.

Nothing else in the house mattered. No one else mattered.

She didn’t hesitate—she shoved past the stunned bodyguards, barking orders at them to carry Jeffrey downstairs. Her voice was sharper, more desperate than she had ever heard it.

She knew kidney stones were painful, but not life-threatening. Her Papaw had suffered through them before, and it always took hours to pass.

But seeing Jeffrey like this—his body slack, his skin fever-hot, his breaths coming slow and labored, her mind barely functioned.

She didn’t think about Charlotte. She didn’t register Philip Winchester, who had woken up amidst the chaos.

She only knew one thing.

She had to get him to the hospital.

She barely waited for the bodyguards to settle Jeffrey in her car before she sped off, the world outside a blur.

Only when Jeffrey was safely admitted, IV fluids dripping steadily into his arm, antibiotics working their way through his system, did her mind start catching up.

She exhaled, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead.

He’s okay. He’s going to be okay.

With shaking fingers, she called home. Charlotte was awake by then. Joanne had already made breakfast, already taken care of things, so it was easy for her to settle everything and stay in the hospital.

Only then did Joanne hear the worry etched into Philip Winchester’s tone when she spoke to him.

A worry that felt... oddly personal.

It wasn’t just concern for her.

He was worried for Jeffrey. The same way he had been worried for her.

Something about it unsettled her.

But she brushed it off. Philip was an old man—maybe he saw all young people as his own grandchildren.

His grandson... Jeffrey...

Her fingers curled tightly around her phone.

For four years, ever since he ran away from their wedding, she had deliberately held back from learning anything about him. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to care.

But now, for the first time in years, curiosity burned in her chest.

What had he been doing all this time?

The thought lingered, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it.

The doctor called for her.

Jeffrey had infection, but was stable.

She sighed in relief.

Then, an hour later, Sebastian came to the hospital, Tupperware in hand.

"Mr. Winchester asked me to bring you breakfast. You cannot starve," he said.

Joanne was thankful. She was sitting simply and the exhaustion was brought out. But she didn’t want to leave Jeffrey alone. If her belly got filled, she might function a bit better.

"So... how is he doing?" Sebastian asked as Joanne ate.

His words were casual, indifferent even, but Joanne could tell—he had come because of Jeffrey.

She frowned, her mind turning over something that hadn’t occurred to her before.

Could it be possible... that Philip approved of Jeffrey?

Or...

A strange, unsettling thought took root in her mind.

Or had it been something else entirely?

-----

Philip sat in the living room, a deck of Uno cards in his hands, but his mind was nowhere in the game. His thoughts were entirely with Joanne.

He had seen that look on her face before—the sheer panic, the way everything else ceased to exist when Jeffrey was in danger.

It had been the same years ago, when Jeffrey was rushed to the hospital after nearly drowning. Philip had watched her then, just as he had now. And it made him wonder.

If he took Jeffrey away by force, if he ripped him from her life, how much would it break her?

Could he really do that to her?

"UNO!" Charlotte’s triumphant shout yanked him from his thoughts. "You lost again, Philip!" She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.

Philip chuckled, shaking his head. "I only learned this game today," he said, feigning offense. "You should see me play Poker and Hearts. No one can beat me." He gave her a wink.

Charlotte’s eyes widened. "Wait, Hearts? That’s a real game?"

Philip exhaled dramatically. "Kids these days..."

He attempted to teach her, but her attention wavered almost instantly. She was restless, bouncing her leg, sighing loudly every few minutes.

"When is Joanne coming back?" she asked, finally.

Philip gently patted her head, though his mind was elsewhere.

He was waiting for her too.

For once in his long life, he found himself unable to make a decision, because it involved Jeffrey. And Joanne.

He sighed deeply. Just then, Jonathan arrived to take Charlotte home.

Philip’s mood soured.

He didn’t acknowledge Jonathan. Didn’t want to.

How could he stand speaking to a man who had hurt Joanne so deeply?

Charlotte, upon hearing her father’s voice, bolted upstairs. She refused to leave. She demanded, pleaded, and—when that didn’t work—threw a tantrum, insisting she stay with Joanne for one more day.

Jonathan had no choice but to scoop her up and carry her out of the house.

Philip watched the entire scene, utterly entertained.

This was what he loved about this place.

He had spent his life indulging in the world’s finest luxuries, reveling in the pleasures available to men of his status.

But nothing compared to this.

The chaos. The laughter. The sound of children running through the fields.

Real, genuine life.

Jonathan hesitated at the door before offering a slight bow. "Please convey my thanks to Joanne, Sir."

Philip gave a slow nod.

He had a sharp, snarky remark poised at the tip of his tongue but held back, for Charlotte’s sake.

Instead, he simply patted the child’s head when she leaned in to kiss his cheek goodbye. She turned toward her father at last, reluctantly trudging away.

Sebastian arrived not long after with good news—Jeffrey was being discharged that evening.

Philip exhaled in relief.

Good thing he had Joanne by his side.

Still, he hated sitting around with nothing to do. Charlotte had reminded him of Poker had given him an idea.

With a smirk, he decided to hit the gambling den in town.

The old fogies there wouldn’t be happy to see me.

He could already hear them grumbling, cursing like sailors the moment he walked through the door. He always wiped them clean and those idiots always hated him for having the best luck when it involved skills too.

Good times!

Just as he stepped onto the porch, his gaze landed on Charlotte. She was sprinting across the field, Jonathan chasing after her, breathless and struggling to keep up.

Philip let out a deep, genuine chuckle.

That child truly didn’t want to go home.

And again, he found himself thinking...

This place brings me peace.

But about Joanne...