Chapter 2205
Jason’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before settling into polite composure.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Rainsworth. Please, come in.”
They had expected guilt—hesitation, perhaps even shame. Instead, his calm welcome forced them to reassess at once.
The steadier a man appeared, the more carefully one had to guard against him.
And such composure made them uneasy. They feared their daughter might not be a match for a resolve like this.
Inside, the couple surveyed the small flat. To their surprise, everything was meticulously orderly.
Two bedrooms, a living room, a kitchen, and two bathrooms—compact, but sufficient. Phoebe’s gaze drifted instinctively toward the bedroom doors.
The larger room was softly furnished. A pink comforter lay neatly tucked, plush toys—Chelsea’s favorites—standing guard at the headboard.
The second room was stark by comparison: two folded quilts, a stack of books, and a quietly humming desktop computer.
“You two aren’t sharing a bed?” Phoebe asked bluntly.
Beside her, Kingston’s face darkened. He coughed twice, the sound heavy and awkward.
Jason nodded without hesitation. “That’s right. Chelsea sleeps in the master. I take the other.”
Phoebe’s brows lifted despite herself.
They had arrived unannounced. Jason couldn’t possibly have staged this.
Which meant his explanation was likely genuine—they truly had been sleeping apart.
Still, separate rooms proved nothing.
“Then why are you living in separate rooms?” Phoebe pressed. “I thought you’d already tied the knot.”
If they sleep apart, they’re hiding something—or worse, the man can’t perform.
Either way, Jason Whitaker was clearly not suitable husband material.
“Married?” Jason echoed.
The word cracked through the cramped flat like a porcelain cup shattering on tile.
His eyes widened, panic and disbelief warring beneath thick lashes.
“Mrs. Rainsworth, you must be mistaken,” he said, every syllable solemn and sincere. “Chelsea and I aren’t married.”
Phoebe blinked twice. “Not married?” Her voice teetered between relief and outrage.
Kingston had barely taken his seat before he sprang back up. “Are you telling the truth?”
Disbelief tightened Phoebe’s jaw; her fingers clenched around her handbag like a vise.
Jason nodded. “No, we haven’t. Who told you we were husband and wife?”
I’m still a fledgling, he thought bitterly. I haven’t built anything worthy yet. How could I ask for her hand?
Husband and wife exchanged a glance. In that brief silence, realization struck.
Their daughter had lied to them—hoping, no doubt, that a grandchild might force their approval.
Phoebe lowered her voice. “That foolish child.”
Kingston broke into a broad grin. “Thank heavens!”
Relief flooded him. His precious daughter was still unmarried—still untouched by the scruffy young man standing before him.
Watching their expressions, Jason pieced it together. Chelsea had deceived her parents—but for what reason, he couldn’t imagine.
He hurried to the kitchenette, filled two chipped glasses with water, and returned.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rainsworth, the place is humble, and I haven’t prepared any tea,” he said apologetically, setting the glasses down. “Please forgive me.”
Jason straightened, shoulders squared, awaiting judgment like a cadet before inspection.
Phoebe shot him a sharp glare. “If you know it’s humble, how can you let Chelsea live like this? Her bedroom at home is larger than this entire flat.”
Jason nodded solemnly. “I understand.”
Kingston snorted. “And it isn’t even yours. You’re renting.”
Another nod. “That’s correct. This isn’t my property.”
Then Jason met their eyes. “But please—grant me one chance. Give me one year. I’ll earn real money and give Chelsea the life she deserves.”
“One year?” Phoebe scoffed. “You’ve been courting her in secret for months. Why didn’t you spend that time proving yourself instead of wasting it on romance?”
Her words were harsh—but Jason’s circumstances were anything but ordinary.
Until recently, his foster parents had drained him of every cent. Only now had he finally severed that parasitic tie.