Love Rents A Room
Chapter 202: The Spark That Lit Her Eyes

Chapter 202: The Spark That Lit Her Eyes

Jeffrey’s voice rang out, determined. "About Winchester Logistics, I—"

But he never finished the sentence.

A sharper, louder voice sliced through the room. Philip Winchester stood, adjusting his tailored suit with deliberate elegance, as if nothing about the last two hours had unsettled him.

"We’ll discuss this later," he declared.

Then, without sparing another glance at the family or at Jeffrey, he turned on his heel and walked out of the living room.

The air left the space like someone had opened a vacuum. Everyone stared, stunned into silence.

Christina hurried after him.

Jeffrey frowned, heart thudding in confusion. It wasn’t like Philip Winchester to leave without announcing his decision. His family—uncles, aunts, cousins—buzzed with uncertain murmurs. But Jeffrey... he knew something wasn’t right.

He followed.

His footsteps were quick, purposeful. His gut told him Philip was heading toward that room.

His room.

Joanne.

Sure enough, he found his grandfather standing at the door, hand reaching for the knob.

Jeffrey hurried and stepped in front of him, blocking the path.

"Grandpa..." he said, unsure what to say next. His palms were slightly clammy, his chest tight. "She’s sleeping."

He didn’t know how Philip would react. Joanne had pointed a gun at him. It wouldn’t surprise Jeffrey if his grandfather didn’t mind, but after what had just happened, Joanne was fragile. Shattered. A conversation with Philip Winchester might be the last thing she could handle.

Philip simply looked at him. That same unreadable stare. Unbothered. Quietly calculating. His eyes pierced through Jeffrey like they always had—as if he already knew the answer to the question he hadn’t asked yet.

"What did she say?" he asked calmly.

Jeffrey swallowed. His voice was hoarse, cracked.

"She said... she doesn’t love me anymore."

The words tasted like glass on his tongue.

He wanted so badly to blame Philip. For keeping him away. For pulling strings. For orchestrating everything from the shadows. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Philip didn’t flinch. He stood there, eyes unreadable, watching Jeffrey in silence. Then, after a long moment... he smiled.

It wasn’t a mocking smile. Nor was it warm.

It was... knowing.

"She’ll talk to me," he said simply. And with that, he stepped forward.

Before Jeffrey could stop him, Philip opened the door and slipped inside.

Jeffrey came to his senses too late and reached for the knob, but the door slammed in his face with a solid thud.

He stood frozen, his fingers resting on the cold wood, his heart pounding.

He didn’t know what would happen next.

-----

Joanne stirred at the soft click of the door and the glow of light washing into the room. Heavy footsteps followed—measured, calm. Not Jeffrey’s.

She blinked and sat up abruptly, her heart pounding. Her breath caught when her eyes confirmed what her instincts already knew.

Philip Winchester.

She wiped at her eyes and mouth quickly, as if it could erase the puffy evidence of her tears and exhaustion.

But before she could speak or sit up fully, his voice, steady and composed, reached her first. "No, no... lie down. It must have been a tiring journey to get here."

She froze.

The blood drained from her face as the weight of everything she’d done came crashing down on her. She had pointed a gun at his grandson. His favorite grandson. In front of the whole family. What had she been thinking?

No—she hadn’t been thinking at all. That was the problem.

She pulled the duvet over her head, hiding her shame, her fear, her disoriented heart.

What was she supposed to do now? Apologize? Explain? Could she even explain the wild storm of pain, love, fear, and betrayal that had pushed her to that breaking point?

But there was no judgment in Philip’s face as he looked at her—only something quiet. Something... content. His eyes, old and sharp as ever, softened. His expression was unreadable, but not cold.

He was happy.

Because in front of him sat the woman carrying the next generation of the Winchester name. And despite everything, that meant something sacred to him.

His gaze drifted to the floor and landed on the fallen ring box. His smile faltered—just slightly. He recognized it. He had seen the ring months ago, when Jeffrey had commissioned it in secret. The boy had searched for that particular diamond like a man possessed.

And now it lay forgotten on the floor.

Philip sighed inwardly. Perhaps it was better that it fell before the wedding, than after.

He sat down in the chair near the bed, slow and deliberate.

"This past year," he began, his voice low, like an old story being told, "I saw a version of Jeffrey I never thought I’d see."

Joanne peeked her head from under the duvet, curiosity cutting through her embarrassment. She looked at him fully now, blinking away the last of her haze. Philip didn’t look disappointed. Not in her. Not in Jeffrey. If anything, he seemed... intrigued.

"He became someone I couldn’t take my eyes off," Philip continued, settling deeper into the chair. "A young man with cold calculation, the mind of a tactician. Business acumen that startled even me. And confidence. A steel confidence, like he was born for this."

Joanne’s heart swelled despite herself. "He learned from you," she said, her voice soft but sure. "He watched you all his life. He went to business school, yes, but he studied you, Philip. Of course he’s better than others his age."

Philip cleared his throat to hide his smile, his eyes glinting.

There it was.

The sparkle in her voice. The light in her eyes. That stardust glow that only Jeffrey’s name could summon from her.

So she still loved him.

No matter what she said, she couldn’t not love him.

"And his confidence," Philip echoed, smiling now. "After all he did for Shamrock Logistics, he had every right to it. He handled negotiations like a man thrice his age. I didn’t have to guide him much. He sent reports, we had our weekly talks, but more often than not—I just listened. And learned."

Joanne’s smile grew. Her hands clutched the blanket against her chest. "He always had that in him. He just... never had the right chance to show it. You gave him that."

Philip’s eyes were kind, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it. "No, you gave him that."

Joanne’s lips parted, startled.

"You gave him the reason," he said, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "He became a man because he wanted to be worthy of you. I’ve never seen him so driven. So alive. You turned him from a boy lost in a legacy... into someone who could lead it."

Joanne’s throat tightened. Her hand pressed to her belly instinctively.