Love Rents A Room
Chapter 176: Grounded Confrontation

Chapter 176: Grounded Confrontation

Joanne took in a deep breath, summoning all the patience heaven could spare for dealing with an infuriating woman.

Heather stood before her, a rictus grin plastered across her face like she’d crowned herself Queen of the Universe after winning a war only she knew existed. Her expression screamed smug delusion, the kind that made Joanne’s teeth itch.

And then—oh no, she didn’t—Heather had the audacity to place her manipulative, perfectly manicured claws on Joanne’s shoulder, trying to steer her somewhere like a handler moving cattle.

Joanne’s entire body recoiled. The contact felt like a snake sliding over her skin.

Nope. Absolutely not.

Her adrenaline was already buzzing after the run-in with Robert Winchester, and now this circus act was testing her nerves like she was begging for a slap. Joanne yanked herself away, nearly slapping Heather’s hand in the process.

"I’d appreciate it if you respected my space," Joanne said, voice firm.

"Right!" Heather raised both hands in mock surrender. "I get it. I’m not William Belford."

Joanne’s eyes narrowed.

Excuse me?

"Pardon?" she asked coldly, brows arching high.

"What?" Heather blinked innocently.

"I asked why you mentioned William Belford’s name," Joanne pressed, voice ice-laced.

Heather, unaccustomed to pushback, scoffed and rolled her eyes. Joanne watched her roll her tongue around her cheek like she was chewing on sarcasm, then spit whatever it was into the air with a disgusting flick and a step back.

Classy.

If Robert thought this creature was elegant, he should marry her and put everyone out of their misery.

"Jeffrey’s marrying me," Heather said smugly, chin tilted, her gaze focused on her nails like she was too bored to care.

Joanne gave a dry laugh. "Delusion, thy name is Heather Nelson."

Heather’s gaze flicked up, amused and venomous all at once. "Oh, sweet buttercup... did you actually believe Jeffrey fell for you?"

Joanne tilted her head with a smile. "Well, considering he brought down a whole-ass congressman for me, I’d say... yes. He fell. Hard."

She let that sink in before continuing, eyes locked on Heather’s: "I heard Congressman Campbell was disowned by his party. There’s a federal investigation now. No longer a congressman—he’s gonna be a felon. A cautionary tale. A stain in the political history books."

The flare of fury in Heather’s eyes was immediate.

"Bitch!" Heather shrieked, raising her hand to slap her.

Joanne didn’t flinch.

She stood tall, meeting her gaze with calm defiance. People were starting to notice—the atmosphere crackled with curiosity and scandal. Joanne knew better than to swing first. In public, the first to go violent was always the villain. She had already pushed Heather to that edge. Let her jump.

But then—

"Look at this!" Heather hissed, shoving her phone in Joanne’s face.

Joanne blinked, catching her breath as her eyes landed on the screen.

A toddler. A little girl. Dark curls. Green eyes.

Heather’s voice was low, sharp. "This is our daughter. Mine and Jeffrey’s daughter."

Each word hit like a hammer. Joanne felt her heart fall straight through the floor. She stared at the screen, frozen.

The noise of the crowd grew distant.

Without a word, they drifted off to a quieter corner.

She needed a second. No—she needed the truth.

And maybe... she needed Jeffrey.

But he was nowhere to be found.

Under the shade of a tree, Joanne folded her arms and locked eyes with Heather. "So, you’re saying this is Jeffrey’s daughter?" Her tone was calm, almost too calm. "Do you have any proof?"

Heather lifted her chin, offended. "Proof? Why would I need proof? Just look at her!"

Joanne’s eyes dropped to the photo again. "This is the only picture of your daughter?" she asked, suspicious. "Show me more."

She reached for the phone, but Heather snapped it back like it was a national secret.

"What the—" Heather clutched it to her chest. "Respect my space, bitch!"

Joanne gave her a tight-lipped smile. "Fair enough." But her doubt grew deeper. What kind of mother wasn’t eager to show off their child? Red flags were practically dancing in front of her.

"When’s her birthday? Did she come on the due date? When was the due date? Actually, let’s start from the top—when was the conception?" Joanne’s words rolled out fast and sharp, like a lawyer building her case.

Heather’s expression shifted from smug to stricken in seconds. Her lips twitched, her throat bobbed, her eyes darted.

"Bitch," she hissed, voice shaking. "Do you think I’m lying?"

Joanne tilted her head. "Well... let’s walk through it, shall we? Why keep it a secret until now? Why not tell Jeffrey the moment you found out you were pregnant?"

She knew Jeffrey. If he had a child, he would’ve told her. His silence meant one thing—either Heather was lying, or someone was lying to him.

Heather’s voice got louder. "Bitch, what are you talking about?!"

"Shh." Joanne’s voice cut through like a blade. "Yelling won’t save you. Answer me."

Heather’s face contorted with fury, but Joanne stood steady, watching every twitch of her enemy’s face like a seasoned interrogator. Her instincts screamed—something wasn’t right.

"Who’s looking after your daughter now?" she asked. "How old is she? Give me something real, Heather."

Heather clenched her fists. "What’s next? You want a DNA test?"

"Oh, I know someone like you can fake one of those," Joanne said, her eyes flashing. "But you don’t look like someone who’s given birth." She observed Heather from top to bottom.

Heather scoffed, fingers twitching on her phone like she wanted to throw it.

"You’re unbelievable," she snapped.

Joanne shrugged. "Most women take that as a compliment. Especially new moms. But not you. Strange."

Heather’s jaw locked.

Because she wasn’t just angry—she was cornered.

"I did give birth. I suffered for hours and gave birth to Jeffrey’s daughter. How dare—"

"Then tell me," Joanne leaned in. "Tell me your birth story. I’m all ears. Was it daytime when labor started? How long did it last? Water break first or contractions?"

Heather’s hand cracked across Joanne’s cheek.

The sound echoed like a gunshot.

Joanne’s head turned with the impact... and then slowly, she looked back at Heather with a dangerous little smile. Her cheek stung, but she’d won. Heather just proved everything Joanne suspected.

Joanne took a breath, steady and sharp. "You just proved you’ve got something to hide."

Heather opened her mouth, but Joanne didn’t let her speak.