Love Rents A Room
Chapter 212: Feeling Protected

Chapter 212: Feeling Protected

Joanne had never thought of herself that way. Not quite.

But... maybe Christina was right.

Maybe she wouldn’t have settled for quiet, even if she thought she would. Maybe she would’ve kept pushing. She didn’t like stagnation, after all. And Jeffrey, being who he was—brilliant, stubborn, ambitious—he’d have pushed with her. They would’ve made something together, no matter where they began.

Joanne couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at her lips. "That’s kind of you, Mrs. Winchester," she said, trying modesty. But there was pride behind it, undeniably.

Pride in herself.

Pride in Jeffrey.

Pride in the life they were building together.

Christina caught the glance Joanne threw at her own reflection again, the slight curve of her lips. The tiara glittered in her hair like it had always belonged there.

Yes. Yes.

She was the one. Christina knew it in her bones. Not just because she loved Jeffrey, not even because she was carrying his child, but because she had earned every step of this journey with sheer grit and unshakable heart.

Joanne stood there, lost in her reflection for a moment, admiring the woman she had become.

But then...

Her eyes widened.

A memory surged. Her face flushed with sudden embarrassment.

Oh God.

She had stood in this house—in that room—in front of Philip freaking Winchester himself... and said she would be the "crutch" for Winchester Logistics.

She groaned under her breath.

The sheer audacity.

Winchester Logistics was thriving under Jeffrey’s management; she was this little know-it-all, complaining about Jeffrey to his grandfather. That was not all she did. She did worse.

It was like an ant declaring to an elephant: "Lean on me if you need support."

What had she been thinking? Did she honestly say that?

As if that was not enough...

She wanted to melt into the marble floor.

Ugh.

Christina raised an eyebrow. "You’re remembering something mortifying, aren’t you?"

Joanne pressed her palm to her face and mumbled, "I told Philip I’d be the crutch for Winchester Logistics. And I walked in wielding a loaded gun... And I... Yesterday, I think I refused Jeffrey when he proposed. I don’t see the ring anymore..."

Christina blinked. Then she did something Joanne did not expect—she laughed again. A quiet, lilting laugh that seemed to dance through the vault room, echoing off polished marble and century-old glass cases like a blessing from a bygone queen.

"Oh, my dear girl..." Christina said, amusement twinkling in her eyes as she stepped closer. "You did all that, did you?"

Joanne nodded, mortified. "I’m a walking disaster."

Christina’s lips curled in that elegant, maternal way that made Joanne feel both deeply seen and gently scolded.

"No," she said softly. "You’re a woman in love, in pain, and in transition. And you stood in front of Philip Winchester, wielding a gun and your pride, to fight for your truth." She touched Joanne’s arm gently. "That takes far more courage than any diamond ever forged."

Joanne looked down, half-embarrassed, half-warmed by the kindness.

"And as for the proposal..." Christina tilted her head thoughtfully. "You think Jeffrey let you go that easily? He probably ran off with the ring because he’s planning something. You may have refused him, but I doubt he accepted it."

Joanne’s lips parted. "He did look suspiciously calm about it..."

"There you go," Christina said, her voice knowing, "My grandson doesn’t lose battles he really cares about. He used to make a lot of noise in the past, but after he returned, he’s all about action and less words. Not even I know what that boy is thinking anymore."

Joanne exhaled, part-laugh, part-groan. "Why is everything always more complicated with him?"

"Because simple men don’t fall in love with women like you." Christina’s tone was gentle, but firm. "You didn’t come into this family quietly, Joanne. You stormed into it. And now the legacy is bracing itself to keep up."

Joanne blinked, her eyes suddenly prickling.

She didn’t feel like she belonged. Not really. Not yet. Not when she kept tripping over her own pride, fear, and god-awful timing.

But for just a moment... she felt chosen.

Not just by Jeffrey.

But by them.

By her.

Joanne’s heart fluttered as she carefully returned each piece to its rightful place. Christina watched, impressed by the reverence with which she handled centuries-old treasures. Quietly, Christina noted Joanne’s carefulness—another reason she could be entrusted with so much more.

As they left the vault, Christina paused at the threshold. "You may come here anytime," she said. "And take whatever you need."

Joanne, still feeling weak, declined with a polite smile. What occasion would call for a chunk of historic jewelry, anyway? Modern pieces beckoned too, but Joanne hardly dared dream of them.

Christina, however, would not be deterred. She instructed the guard to grant Joanne unrestricted access whenever she wished, and meant it.

Joanne’s chest tightened with gratitude. This was true acceptance—no longer a visitor but part of the family.

They stepped into the hallway and froze. Greta, Jeffrey’s aunt, stood with arms folded and a look of ready confrontation. In an instant, Christina moved between them, shielding Joanne with her presence alone. Joanne felt her heart melt at the gesture.

"Really, Mom?" Greta snapped, but Christina’s quiet glare snapped her words shut.

Turning to Joanne, Christina’s expression softened into a warm smile. "Rest now," she said. "You’re exhausted."

Understanding Christ­ina’s gentle command, Joanne nodded.

Greta stood stiff in the hallway, arms folded, mouth pressed into a thin line, but her eyes flitted to Joanne—not with curiosity, but calculation.

Joanne met her gaze briefly, offered a small, respectful nod, and walked past, led by the staff Christina had summoned. She didn’t miss how Christina’s presence loomed like a wall between her and Greta, nor the quiet authority she held without raising her voice.

Back in Jeffrey’s quarters, Joanne let out a long breath the moment the door closed behind her.

Accepted. Shielded. Protected.

But also... targeted.

She knew this was only the beginning.

There would be more like Greta—skeptics, dissenters, people who would question what right she had to walk among them. She wasn’t naïve. Acceptance from Christina didn’t automatically translate to acceptance from the rest of the family. And if Greta’s reaction was any indicator, things would only grow more complicated.

Still...

Joanne walked over to the mirror, catching sight of her reflection. Her hair was slightly tousled from the tiara, her eyes still tired from the morning’s whirlwind, but her shoulders were square. Her jaw steady. Her hand moved instinctively to her stomach.

"You’re not alone," she whispered.

Then, smiling faintly, she added, "Neither am I."