Joanne lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind refusing to settle. She had taken her medication, just as the doctor instructed. She hadn't even thought about drinking tonight—not even a sip. That, in itself, surprised her.
What is going on with me?
Her thoughts swirled in a relentless loop, always circling back to one person.
Jeffrey.
She had her suspicions when Philip seemed unusually interested in him. The way he studied Jeffrey, the careful way he asked questions and the way he cared for him, had sparked something uneasy in her gut. But she didn't wanted to dwell on it.
Then she overheard the bodyguards talking.
They thought they were being discreet. One of them clearly didn't know the truth, but the other? He spoke with certainty. Jeffrey was Philip Winchester's grandson.
At first, she wanted to believe it was a joke. Some ridiculous story meant to tease his friend.
But doubt had already taken root.
