How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie and Alexander stood together, deep in conversation. Whatever they were discussing, it was impossible to miss the matching scarves wrapped around their necks-clearly a couple's set.

Really, what sort of "just friends" wear matching scarves like that?

From across the room, Jarrod glanced up and watched them.

Elodie reached out and patted Alexander's back, the gesture easy and familiar, their closeness hard to ignore.

Maurice let out a cold laugh. "I really underestimated her. She may not have any real skills, but she's certainly an expert when it comes to men."

Even Joseph frowned, casting Elodie another curious look.

He remembered the way she'd looked at him that day-cold and full of contempt. Compared to the warmth in her eyes when she looked at Alexander, it was obvious she felt very differently about the two men.

"If they're not involved, then how does she even know Alexander?" Maurice muttered, still unable to figure it out.

Alexander's company, VistaLink Technologies, had only just stabilized its footing, but his background was solid and his abilities ranked him at the very top of the field. Someone like Elodie shouldn't even have the chance to cross paths with him, let alone get close.

"Jarrod?" Maurice turned to him.

Jarrod glanced at his watch, his tone indifferent. "I'll take Sylvie home."

Sylvie, lost in thought, lingered a moment.

Jarrod had brought her here tonight to meet the industry's elite, and just by

chance, Elodie had shown up-looking intimately connected to Alexander, no lessnoveldrama

—and all of it just happened to unfold right in front of them.

Too many coincidences meant it couldn't possibly be a coincidence anymore.

"No wonder Mr. Sterling didn't meet with me today," she said quietly.

Maurice and Joseph turned toward her. "What do you mean?"

Sylvie spoke calmly, "If Elodie knows Mr. Sterling, then it all makes sense."

"Elodie's holding a grudge?" Maurice immediately jumped to the implication Sylvie left unsaid. "She's whispered something in Alexander's ear because she can't let go of what happened with you?"

"Alexander doesn't strike me as the type to let a pretty face cloud his judgment," Joseph said, genuinely surprised.

Sylvie shook her head. "Doesn't matter. My abilities will speak for themselves."

Maurice grinned, giving her a thumbs-up. "That's our Sylvie-nothing if not poised."

Jarrod stayed silent, his gaze drifting back to Elodie and Alexander.

Meanwhile, Elodie could feel a sharp gaze fixed on her, but she didn't turn around. She knew it was Jarrod, but she no longer cared.

She dropped Alexander off at his apartment. He'd had a bit to drink and, still wrapped in his scarf, waved her off before heading upstairs. Elodie watched him go, said nothing, and drove herself home.

Life felt light and easy these days. Free, even.

It was half past nine when Jarrod returned to the house he and Elodie shared.

The housekeeper was still on duty and hurried over to take his coat. "Sir, would you like me to run you a bath?"

He hesitated. Elodie used to take care of these things.

"Yes," he said curtly.

The housekeeper scurried upstairs to prepare the bath. Jarrod followed, loosening his tie as he climbed the steps, fingers working at the knot.

The bedroom was dimly lit, only the lamp beside the bed casting a warm glow. He hadn't been home in days.

The housekeeper exited the bathroom just as he entered the room.

Jarrod narrowed his eyes. "Has Mrs. Hargrove come home tonight?"

The housekeeper paused, unsure. "Mrs. Hargrove?"

"She hasn't been home these past few days," she finally admitted.

Jarrod's brow furrowed as he tossed his tie aside and glanced at Elodie's vanity. "Since when?"

As he spoke, he pulled out his phone, intending to text Elodie.

"About last Tuesday, I think."

He did the math. That was the day after Sylvie's birthday.

From that evening on, Elodie had been acting "special"—like a stranger, really.

He stood there, lost in thought for a while, lips curling into an unreadable half- smile.

In the end, he closed the chat with Elodie, thinking better of sending a message.

He headed into the bathroom.

The tub was filled with plain hot water. In the past, there would have been bath oils, something soothing for the nerves. Tonight, nothing.

Suddenly, he lost all desire for a bath.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the counter.

He glanced at the screen, then turned and strode from the room.

The housekeeper called after him, "Sir, are you going out?"

Jarrod typed out a reply, not looking up. "You can all go home. I'll be staying elsewhere tonight."