Love Rents A Room
Chapter 98: Peace In The Silence

Chapter 98: Peace In The Silence

Sebastian leaned in slightly. "Why don’t you let him stay for some time? Let this pan out. Who are we to stand in the way of fate?"

Philip let out a slow, measured breath.

Was it fate that Jeffrey ended up here, with her?

Jeffrey had been lost for years, wandering through life as if he were trying to outrun something he didn’t understand. But now, here he was, running toward something.

Toward her.

Perhaps it was selfish to hope Joanne could fix him, to believe she held the key to the pieces Jeffrey had lost all those years ago. But Philip also knew the weight of deception, and he feared the day she discovered the truth.

Still... fate had already entangled them.

Philip let the silence stretch between them, weighing Sebastian’s words. Finally, he exhaled, his voice low but resolute.

"For her sake, I pray you are right."

He strode toward the hospital room, pausing just before opening the door. A glance through the glass panel stopped him in his tracks.

Inside, Jeffrey stood with his back to him, leaning slightly toward Joanne, who lay nestled in crisp white sheets. But it wasn’t Jeffrey Philip focused on—it was Joanne’s face.

That smile...

Her eyes shimmered, reflecting something rare and unguarded. Happiness. Relief. Something even deeper.

Philip had seen that look before—years ago, when he first uttered Jeffrey’s name to her. The moment she heard it, the fury that had stormed across her face had vanished, replaced with something soft, something radiant.

It was the same expression she wore now. The kind of smile that only bloomed in the presence of someone dear.

She had once cared for Jeffrey. No... she had loved him.

Philip’s chest tightened. He had never suggested that marriage lightly. He had seen the way Joanne’s eyes brightened at the mention of Jeffrey even back then, and he had believed, with unwavering certainty, that she was the one person who could save his grandson from himself.

Jeffrey had ruined it.

Had they married, Philip would likely be holding his great-grandson now, watching Joanne build the life she deserved, with Jeffrey as the man he was always meant to be.

But maybe... maybe it wasn’t too late.

If Jeffrey could mend what was broken, if he could fight for what should have been...

Should he stand in the way?

"Sir..."

Sebastian’s voice pulled him from the depths of his thoughts.

"Liam Sullivan is being interrogated by the feds. They’re refusing him a phone call."

"Feds?" Philip’s expression darkened, his lips curving in a slow, knowing smile. "So... they’re going after the people who stand by her."

Sebastian swallowed. He recognized that look in Philip’s eyes—the steel-hard resolve of a man who had built an empire and defended it without hesitation.

Philip turned from the door, his decision made.

"They want to ruin her? Then are waging a war against me." His voice was quiet, lethal. "Let’s remind them who they’re dealing with."

-----

Joanne was bored. Utterly, miserably bored.

Lying on the stiff hospital bed, she stared at the ceiling, counting the tiny imperfections in the white paint. She must have dozed off at some point—maybe it was the medication—but when she woke, barely half an hour had passed. She had expected the sun to have set, the world outside to have changed. But no. Time crawled at a snail’s pace.

She was not made for this.

She wasn’t the type to take midday naps, and she certainly wasn’t the type to stay idle. Even the painkillers coursing through her system did nothing to lull her into the rest the doctors insisted she needed. If anything, they only fueled her frustration. She had trained her body to withstand far stronger substances than this—did they really think a few measly pills would knock her out?

With a sigh, she pressed the call button for the nurses.

When they finally arrived, she asked—no, demanded—to be allowed a short walk. She needed to move, to breathe. But, of course, they refused. "Doctor’s orders," they said. "You need to rest," they insisted.

Rest? How was she supposed to rest when her body felt like a coiled spring, ready to snap from sheer restlessness?

She pressed the call button again. And again. Every five minutes, her patience wearing thinner with each passing second. She didn’t like to be alone.

The nurse returned, less patient this time. "Miss, you need to~"

"I need my phone," Joanne interrupted.

"Absolutely not."

She groaned in frustration. Didn’t they understand? A lot had happened. She needed to know what was going on. Who was hurt? Who was safe? Who was handling things? But no, she was trapped in this sterile room with nothing but an IV drip and her growing irritation.

The doctor came next, armed with a slew of medical jargon meant to scare her into submission. She didn’t even pretend to listen.

Then he made a mistake.

"Jeffrey Daniels is still in the waiting room," he mentioned.

Joanne’s eyes lit up. "Bring him in."

The doctor hesitated. "It’s not visiting hours."

She stared at him. Blinked. Then slowly, deliberately, she reached for the call button again. The doctor sighed.

Thirty more minutes of relentless button abuse later, the doctor caved.

When he finally left to retrieve Jeffrey, Joanne smirked in satisfaction, sinking back against the pillows.

Finally, she was getting somewhere.

Jeffrey entered the room in a rush, his movements sharp with urgency. Joanne blinked, momentarily stunned. He looked utterly uncomposed—disheveled, tense, as if he had just walked out of a warzone. Then again, they had been through something terrible.

Her gaze drifted down, landing on his hand. His knuckles, raw and bruised, had been hastily treated, the stark white bandages contrasting against his tanned skin. The wounds would scar, no doubt.

He did that for me...

A lump formed in her throat. He was still a mess, still breathless with worry—for her.

The realization struck deep, unfolding inside her like a wave crashing against the shore. Tears welled in her eyes, blurring her vision. Without even realizing it, her lips curved into a small, tender smile.

People had cared for her before. She wasn’t a stranger to love, to loyalty. But Jeffrey—him—caring for her like this? That was something new. That was something different.

She stretched out her hand.

"Come here," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jeffrey stepped closer instantly, his concern overflowing. "Does it hurt? Do you need anything?" He stacked his questions one after another, his desperation to help almost tangible.

"No..." Joanne shook her head, the emotion thick in her voice. Her eyes, shimmering with gratitude, locked onto his. And beneath that gratitude, something deeper stirred—something she wasn’t sure she had the strength to name yet.

She took his hand in hers, her fingers gently brushing over the bandages.

And then, she simply looked at him. Just looked at him.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, she found peace in the silence.