PHILIP SCOTT: THE LOST HEIR

CHAPTER 53

Philip barely slept that night. His mind raced with thoughts of what had just happened, and what lay ahead. The motel room was small and sparsely furnished, with a single bed, a rickety wooden chair, and a tiny bathroom that had seen better days. Jessica had insisted on taking the bed, leaving Philip to sleep in the chair, but neither of them got much rest.

As the first light of dawn crept through the thin curtains, Philip finally gave up on trying to sleep. He stretched out in the chair, every muscle in his body aching from the tension of the night before. Jessica stirred in the bed, blinking groggily as she sat up.

"Morning," she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "Did you sleep at all?"

"Not really," Philip admitted, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Too much on my mind."

Jessica nodded, pulling the blanket around her shoulders as she leaned against the headboard. "Me too. I can't stop thinking about what my father said. 'You're a kite dancing in a hurricane.' What did he mean