CHAPTER 213: LOVE THAT STAYED

Christina stepped into Philip’s office with a soft smile playing on her lips. It had become his sanctuary in recent years—he preferred the quiet rhythm of his home study, only visiting his offices once a week now. He looked up from the file in his hand, and the instant he saw her expression, he set it aside.

"You look happy," he noted, his tone gentle with curiosity.

"Oh, darling," Christina sighed, sinking into the chair beside him—the one he always left open for her, no matter how busy he was. It had become their ritual. She’d drop by when the silence of the estate bored her, and he would always make space for her, even amid chaos.

"She’s the one," Christina said, meeting his gaze. "You were right."

Philip’s lips curved in quiet pride. There was no gloating—only the satisfaction of a man who’d hoped for the best and been proven correct.

"So, you spoke with her?" he asked.

Christina nodded, her eyes shimmering. "She’s so in love, Philip. You did the right thing, keeping them apart this past year. Their love—it’s real. It will endure. Like ours." She reached for his hand, and he clasped it gently, bringing it to his lips with a fond kiss.

Philip’s eyes softened, but his mind was already reliving the reasoning that led to that painful decision. A year ago, he’d doubted Jeffrey, not his ability, but his maturity. He wasn’t convinced Jeffrey deserved Joanne after what he’d put her through. But Jeffrey had proven him wrong.

While whispers circled, anticipating his downfall, Jeffrey pressed forward, with resolve in his spine, ambition in his steps, and Joanne’s memory in his heart. He hadn’t faltered. He didn’t retreat. He led Winchester Logistics to new heights, not just surviving, but dominating.

And Joanne... she had her own quiet strength.

She didn’t move on—not out of desperation, but out of certainty. Philip had seen the looks Belford’s son gave her. He waited, hoping she’d choose him. But she didn’t. Joanne’s heart never wavered. And when she sensed that something was wrong at Winchester Logistics—when whispers turned into alarms, she didn’t ignore it.

She ran here.

To him.

And she had enough grace in her heart to forgive Jeffrey.

Enough love to let him climb into her bed once more.

And now...

"We’re going to become great-grandparents," Philip said, a note of disbelief still tingling in his voice. Ever since he’d heard the news, there had been a lightness in his step, a quiet joy that bloomed inside him. At this stage in life, what more could he ask for?

"We are!" Christina’s voice lifted a whole octave with delight. "I need to start knitting. The baby will arrive early winter, won’t he?" And just like that, her thoughts spiraled into the kind of worries only she would have—about yarn types, blanket softness, and colors gentle enough for a newborn’s skin.

Philip chuckled. He wanted to tell her there was still plenty of time, but what was the point? She wouldn’t stop at one sweater anyway. She was going to vanish into her knitting nook, surrounded by patterns and threads and half-finished baby booties for months. He would barely see her.

"Joanne... I was in awe," Christina said, voice turning soft with reverence. "I remember feeling so overwhelmed when your mother first walked me through these halls. But Joanne—she has just the right balance. Enough reverence to accept the weight of this legacy, and enough pride to keep her chin raised. One moment she’s brimming with quiet pride, and the next—she’s laughing at herself."

She smiled, eyes crinkling. "She’s agonizing over the fact that she walked in here pointing a gun at Jeffrey." Christina chuckled. "I think she was worried it might cost her your love... If only she knew..."

"You didn’t tell her that you nearly shot me in front of my colleagues and half the aristocracy?" Philip arched a brow.

Christina’s cheeks flushed. "The kids don’t need to know about that..." she huffed. That scandal had lived for years—decades even. Why give it fresh legs?

"And for the record, it was your fault," she added with a theatrical pout.

Philip laughed, the memory pulling him back. "I still remember the sight of you storming into that party, bow in hand, eyes blazing. Like a warrior princess out of myth. God, you were beautiful. Until then, I’d only ever seen the elegant, demure side of you. But that night... You know how to keep me on my toes, Love..."

He narrowed his eyes, trying to recall the spark. "What even made you that angry? I’ve forgotten."

That face—fierce, radiant, full of love and fury—was one of the images he knew would flash before his eyes at the end of his life. He remembered falling even harder for her in that moment, even being a little thrilled. But the reason? Lost to time.

Christina turned her head, still pretending to pout, but a small smile curved her lips. "Was I really pretty?" she asked softly.

He nodded, gaze warm. "You were stunning." He leaned over and kissed her cheek, and she blushed like a girl.

She remembered it perfectly. Someone had whispered to her that Lady Elsa—cold, polished Lady Elsa—had claimed to be pregnant with Philip’s child. Furious, humiliated, and blind with love, she’d grabbed the archery bow she once competed with and stormed into his business party, ready to kill or cry—or both.

"I can’t believe I forgot what set you off," Philip mused. "Was it Lady Elsa?"

Christina gave him a pointed look, unimpressed. "Why don’t you ask her? You two were always so chummy. You were talking to her for hours the other day..."

Philip burst into laughter and tugged her closer. "She means nothing to me, Chrissy. You—you are my world." His voice dropped to a boyish whisper, full of affection.

And with that, her irritation melted. It always did. He was simply too lovable.

"I can’t believe I managed to marry above my station," Philip murmured, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Jeffrey too... he found someone better than him."

Christina rested her head gently against his. "I’m not above you, Philip," she whispered, exhaling a long breath. "I’m just a part of you."

"The better part," Philip said without hesitation.

Christina smiled, her heart full. This man—this impossible, wonderful man—would never let her feel small. In all their years together, through storms and seasons, he had only ever lifted her higher. And here they were, still holding hands, still choosing each other.

"Love you, darling," she said, her voice quiet with gratitude.

She truly had a wonderful life.

Philip chuckled. To anyone else, that soft, boyish sound might have seemed out of place coming from a man of his age. But to Christina, it was exactly the same laugh she had fallen in love with when she was fifteen. He was a boy back then—full of mischief and heart—and in all the ways that mattered, he hadn’t changed. At least, not with her.