How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Neural Intelligence was suddenly the talk of the town again.

Elodie was well aware that the company had already signed several partnership deals. She didn't care much about that. Neural Intelligence had always had real technical clout-its growth was inevitable.

What preoccupied her was the situation with the paintings.

The next day, Elodie finally received the details for Selma's art exhibition. The event's organizers had just announced the official time and location-set for one week from now, in a rather high-profile manner. Elodie hadn't expected such an early announcement.

She glanced at the address and recognized it instantly: the museum owned by Patricia. So, Sylvie had actually managed to rent the place.

Just then, Elodie's phone rang. It was her grandmother, Rosemary. The old woman hardly ever lost her temper, but now her voice trembled with outrage. "That woman, Selma-she's back?"

Elodie's expression hardened. "Grandma, what happened?"

Rosemary's voice shook as she forced out each word. "Someone delivered an invitation to me today. Signed by Selma herself. She said she was personally inviting me to her exhibition."

As if that wasn't enough, the messenger also relayed a message: "Perhaps, after seeing my paintings, you'll remember your daughter. Perhaps they'll help you find a bridge to your memories of her."

Rosemary was so furious she could barely hold the phone. Years ago, Selma had been Winifred's closest friend. Rosemary had helped her, introduced her to people, even let her stay at their home to save on rent. Who would have thought Selma would turn out to be a smiling predator?

Right before graduation, Selma had committed plagiarism-then smeared Winifred's name, almost getting her degree revoked. And now she had the nerve to come back?

Elodie's eyes went cold as ice. Selma had silently slipped the invitation directly to her grandmother-how calculating. She couldn't show her anger, though. Steadying her voice, she soothed, "Grandma, please don't get upset. She's not worth it. I'll be home soon to see you. Let me handle this."

It took a while, but Elodie finally managed to calm Rosemary down.

Only then did Elodie's expression fully darken. Selma and Sylvie-were they really trying to stage a comeback using this mess? Was this some kind of twisted revenge?noveldrama

Elodie grabbed her things and hurried home.

Fortunately, Rosemary had weathered many storms in her life and managed to keep her composure. Still, this incident had nearly pushed Elodie past her breaking point.

She made time to sift through the paintings her mother had left behind. Many had been sold over the years, but there were still three highly finished works at home, plus a piece Jarrod had helped her recover-a painting from the same series. She organized what was left of the preliminary sketches as well.

Every artist had their own unmistakable style. Selma had been in the industry for years, and after her mother's death, Winifred's unique artistic voice had all but been swallowed by Selma.

The works Selma plagiarized were from Winifred's time at Fairview Crossing, but Selma's real claim to

fame was her copy of Winifred's ne

thesis project-a two-part

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composition. One of these paintings was now at The Royal Atelier of Fine Arts, preserved in their collection and unavailable for public exhibition. The other half's whereabouts remained a mystery; Elodie had never been able to track it down.

Thanks to Jarrod, she had recovered another painting her mother had created as

part of that same series-the very work Selma had falsely accused her mother of stealing. Now, at least, it might serve a purpose.

That was why Elodie wanted to buy back the painting Selma had copied from her mother's work. She

planned to take it to The Royal

Atelier someday, compare it directly with the one in their collection,

and with the help of the series-finally clear her mother's name.

After all, in Selma's early years, everything about her paintings-themes, style,

even color palettes-was indistinguishable from her mother's.