Love Rents A Room
Chapter 183: The Winchester Mansion

Chapter 183: The Winchester Mansion

Joanne checked on the Sullivan family later that night in the hospital. They would return home the next day. Tiptoeing into Fiona’s house with a basket full of food that filled their refrigerator, she left a note that simply said: "Rest. I’ve got your back."

When she returned home, she didn’t allow herself to sit and think.

She sat at her desk, pulled her laptop close, and opened a blank document.

And she worked.

For hours, she combed through public records, market analysis, shareholder reports, every article and statement Winchester Logistics had released over the last year.

Piece by piece, she mapped the unraveling of the company.

The warehouse scandals were only the beginning.

Procurement errors, unexplained cash flow issues, and an exodus of key mid-level managers at key locations. All signs pointed to deep-rooted mismanagement, and if it continued, the company would fall—and with it, Philip’s legacy would be trampled.

Joanne outlined a salvage plan.

Identifying and immediately firing the guilty executives.

A public apology campaign led by someone who still had goodwill with the public.

Reinvestment in labor rights and logistics optimization to restore reputation and stabilize the bleeding finances.

By dawn, her eyes burned and her hands ached, but she had it.

A real plan.

One that could work.

She closed her laptop and leaned back, staring at the ceiling through burning, tired eyes.

Was she crazy?

Maybe.

But maybe loving someone didn’t always mean holding their hand. Sometimes it meant fighting for them, even when they didn’t know. She was not going to let Jeffrey ruin his grandfather’s reputation.

And maybe... maybe it was for herself too.

She didn’t want to see another good thing die without trying.

After making sure Fiona was well cared for, and leaving Fluffy with enough food to survive a week of missing her, Joanne booked a plane ticket.

She packed lightly: just one small suitcase, her worn leather notebook, and her resolve.

When the taxi pulled up outside, she glanced back once at her little farm, the fields sleeping under a layer of frost.

The winter sun barely crested over the hills, cold and distant.

It was time.

She was going to see Philip Winchester.

Face to face.

No more waiting.

-----

This time, when Joanne stepped into the Winchester Estate, she wasn’t scared.

The last time she walked this path, it was the day before her wedding—that bright, cruel afternoon where she was introduced to the Winchester family for the first time.

No one had liked her back then. It crushed her so thoroughly she thought she might never breathe right again.

But this time, she wasn’t here to be liked. She wasn’t here for approval. She was here for a purpose.

Still, she wouldn’t lie to herself.

There was a little flutter in her chest—a stubborn, aching part of her heart that still longed to catch even the smallest glimpse of him.

Jeffrey. The man she loved, even now, even after everything.

At the gate, she gave her name to security, asking them to contact Sebastian. Not Jeffrey. Not Heather. Not anyone else.

Just Sebastian, Philip’s trusted aide. She wasn’t here to cause a scene. She only hoped they’d allow her to see Philip.

Minutes later, a small golf caddy pulled up in front of the gate, humming quietly under the grey winter morning. Joanne tucked her hands into the sleeves of her coat and stepped aboard.

The Winchester Estate sprawled out before her, a quiet empire sleeping under the misty sky. Last time, she had been too nervous to notice anything. But now... Now she saw it.

Wide, lush pastures where thoroughbreds galloped in the morning mist. Gardens meticulously tended even in the frost. A staff village tucked between old trees. A multi-level garage that looked like a full-blown automotive museum.Tennis courts gleaming like mirrors in the cold light. A gym that could have belonged to a luxury resort.

The wealth here was breathtaking, almost surreal.

And yet—it wasn’t the luxury that caught her throat. It was how permanent it all felt. A kingdom built to withstand centuries. Something she wished to build for her children one day.

Finally, the caddy slowed to a stop in front of the main house.

Or rather—what could only be described as a grand hotel masquerading as a home. A sweeping marble arch crowned the double oak doors, their dark grains polished to a mirror shine. Beyond them, the entrance opened into a sea of checkerboard marble, so pristine it almost hurt to look at. Above it all, a chandelier dripped from the ceiling like frozen starlight—so enormous it seemed capable of swallowing her whole.

Joanne stood for a second, simply breathing it in. She realized she was trembling, but not from the cold.

The doors swung open and there was Sebastian, standing tall in his perfectly pressed suit, his expression carefully neutral. Only his eyes betrayed his shock at seeing her, and at the lack of any luggage in her hands.

"Ms. Smith," he greeted her with a polite bow, smoothing away the surprise with a practiced smile.

"Sebastian," she managed with a small, steady voice. "Good to see you. I’m sorry I barged in like this... I want to meet Philip. Is he around? Where can I find him?"

She needed to be clear. She wasn’t here for anyone else. Not Jeffrey. Not Heather.

And yet... deep inside, that soft, pathetic part of her whispered—But if you happened to see him... if you happened to cross his path...

She crushed that thought before it could bloom.

Oddly, the feeling mirrored that day almost five years ago—the foolish excitement she had felt, stepping into this house, ready to build a future. She had been ready to love them all, to be part of this family.

But Jeffrey had chosen Heather.

Then.

And now.

"You’re at the right place and the right time," Sebastian said, giving her a knowing smile. He glanced meaningfully at her empty hands. "Your luggage, Miss?"

"I checked into a hotel nearby," Joanne said, returning his smile faintly.

Sebastian bowed his head again, but his sigh was almost audible. He knew Philip would never approve. Joanne had hosted them so warmly at her own home—cooked for them, welcomed them with a heart so open it hurt to think about.

Why should she stay at a hotel like a stranger?

They both knew the answer.

Jeffrey.

Sebastian didn’t say it.

Neither did she.

The heavy, unspoken truth simply hung between them like mist in the winter air.

The doors closed behind her with a hushed thud, sealing out the winter chill. A soft, comforting warmth enveloped her at once, like stepping into another world.

A staff member appeared almost immediately, taking her coat with quiet efficiency.

Sebastian led her onward, guiding her toward the grand staircase.

Of course, they had an elevator—seamlessly tucked into the architecture—but Joanne chose the stairs.

There was something majestic, almost sacred, about walking through this place on foot, feeling every marble step under her shoes, every whisper of history brushing against her skin.

They moved through a hallway so beautiful she could have sworn it belonged to a dream—crowned ceilings, gilt-framed paintings, thick velvet drapes that made even silence feel luxurious.

Finally, Sebastian stopped in front of a door and gestured her inside.

It was a bedroom.

Joanne’s heart stumbled.

Is Philip sick?

The thought gripped her with a sudden chill colder than the January air outside. If Philip were well, she would be meeting him in the study or perhaps the living room—not here, at the threshold of his bedroom.

She turned wide, anxious eyes to Sebastian.

The bedroom door opened into a small, elegant foyer, and beyond it, she could hear the frail, almost pitiful voice of the man she admired so dearly.

"I can’t do this anymore, Chrissy... Let me go..."

Joanne’s heart shattered. Her legs locked in place, a tremor racing through her.

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