Love Rents A Room
Chapter 96: Admitting The Truth

Chapter 96: Admitting The Truth

Joanne wasn’t left to her thoughts for long as the Land Rover carried her back home. Jeffrey was with her, and that was enough. The distant wail of sirens filled the air—too late, as always. But she couldn’t blame them; they were out in the middle of nowhere.

Jeffrey insisted on taking her straight to the doctor, but her attention snapped to the sleek Rolls-Royce parked in her driveway.

"Philip Winchester is here?" she asked the suited men. They nodded.

Jeffrey’s grip on her hand tightened. "Will you listen to me?" he said sharply. "Let’s go to the hospital first."

Joanne hesitated. "I just need to check if I have something to serve him. It’s lunchtime, and he won’t eat if I don’t—" She stopped when she saw Jeffrey’s glare, his jaw clenched tight.

Philip Winchester needed to take his meals and medications on time. Additionally, she had to hide the moonshine in her house; otherwise, that old man would drink it all. She loved him, but not enough to sacrifice all her good moonshine to him.

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You’re hurt, and you’re thinking about feeding that old man?" His voice rose in frustration.

The security guards shifted uncomfortably, clearing their throats and avoiding eye contact. Joanne sensed something strange in the air, an unspoken tension she couldn’t quite place.

She had no way of knowing she was seated next to Philip Winchester’s grandson. Nor that the security team, aware of Jeffrey’s identity, found themselves caught in an awkward dilemma. Jeffrey had signaled them not to reveal anything to her, leaving them uncertain about whom to obey.

"It will only take a minute," Joanne said, reaching for the door handle.

Jeffrey immediately pushed it shut. He was torn. He wanted her to get medical attention, but more than that, he wasn’t ready for her to meet his grandfather—not now. Not until he had answers.

Until he had confronted Philip about that lost memory. Until he confirmed whether Joanne was the girl from his past.

Because if she was... then he had done something unforgivable.

If she was that girl, then he had unknowingly put her life in danger. And there was no one worse in this world than him.

"Start the car," Jeffrey ordered.

"No!" Joanne objected.

The security guards hesitated. Who were they supposed to obey? The woman their boss adored or his grandson?

But in the end, they knew where true power lay. The engine remained off.

"Jeffrey, he’ll be worried. I just need to show him I’m fine, then I’ll go to the doctor," she reasoned. "See... he’s already at the porch..."

Before he could say anything, she opened the door and jumped down.

Jeffrey exhaled sharply. Again, she was better than him. While he wrestled with his selfish need to fix everything, she was thinking of his grandfather’s well-being.

Maybe Philip Winchester had been right all along. Maybe Joanne was truly worthy of his love.

"Hello, Mr. Winchester!" Joanne’s smile brightened as she spotted him. Stretching out her arms, she hurried up the porch stairs. "You look dapper as always!"

Philip Winchester let out a relieved chuckle, but the tight hug he pulled her into spoke volumes. He had feared losing her.

"Oh, Poppet," he murmured, holding her close.

Joanne melted into the embrace, feeling the warmth of someone who truly cared for her. She had plenty of misgivings about his family, but Philip Winchester had never been one of them. She loved this old man—she could never bring herself to hate him, no matter what.

"I sent you an email just this morning. I would have come to meet you," she said as she looped her arm through his and led him inside. "You didn’t have to travel all this way."

Philip said nothing, only patted her hand. His silence spoke of his worry, his relief.

Outside, farmhands had gathered, whispering among themselves, their expressions a mix of awe and gratitude. Joanne had come back alive, unscathed despite the danger she had faced. Surely, they thought, a girl as kind-hearted as her was protected by some higher power. Quietly, they sent up their thanks.

Jeffrey trailed behind, his gaze locked on his grandfather. He was ready to intervene if Philip said something—anything—that might expose the truth. Joanne still didn’t know. She had no idea who Jeffrey really was. And he wasn’t ready for her to find out. Not yet.

But Joanne barely noticed Jeffrey’s tense presence. She was too busy making sure Philip was comfortable, chatting with Fiona, reassuring her that she was fine.

Jeffrey, on the other hand, was anything but fine.

"You need to go to the hospital," he reminded her for the third time, his patience thinning.

Philip, ever observant, caught the anxious edge in his grandson’s voice. He knew exactly why Jeffrey was so on edge. They needed to talk.

But Joanne wouldn’t stop.

She gave instructions to the farmhands, making sure Patrick took care of her injured horse. She moved as if nothing had happened, as if she hadn’t just come back from the brink of death.

Jeffrey clenched his jaw. Enough.

Without another word, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her toward the car.

"Jeffrey—" she started, but he wasn’t listening anymore.

He opened the door, helped her inside, and slammed it shut. Then, without another glance back, he got into the driver’s seat and sped off.

Fiona stood on the porch, watching it all unfold with an amused shake of her head.

Her husband was safe, at the crime scene dealing with the cops. She wasn’t worried—Liam could handle himself.

And Joanne? Well, Joanne was safe too.

That was all that mattered.

-----

Philip Winchester couldn’t sit still. The moment he heard where Joanne had been taken, he made his way to the hospital.

When he arrived, he found Jeffrey waiting in the dimly lit waiting room, his elbows on his knees, fingers interlocked, deep in thought.

Philip took a seat beside him. "How is she?" he asked quietly.

Jeffrey let out a slow sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Better than I expected... for what she went through." He exhaled sharply. "She has a cracked rib and some scratches. Nothing life-threatening. The doctor said she can be discharged tonight."

Philip leaned back, relief washing over him. "Thank God," he murmured.

A silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken words.

Then Jeffrey finally spoke. "About him..." His voice was measured, cautious. What had happened to Caruso wasn’t exactly above board—it needed to be handled carefully.

Philip gave a small nod, understanding the weight behind his grandson’s words. "He was a death row inmate," he said simply. "It’s unfortunate... but inevitable."

Jeffrey pressed his lips together, his gaze dropping to his hands. His fingers tightened around each other. His grandfather had agreed to take care of it.

But there was something else. Something far more important weighing on his mind.

He hesitated, then finally said, "About her..."

Philip’s expression hardened in an instant. "I forbid you from staying here with her." His voice was firm, unwavering. "She doesn’t deserve your hatred."

Jeffrey’s jaw tensed. He cleared his throat. "I’m not leaving," he said, his voice calm but resolute. "And I don’t hate her."

His fingers slowly uncurled as he finally admitted the truth—not just to his grandfather, but to himself.

"I’m in love with her."