How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Everyone nearby who overheard Louisa's words couldn't help but glance in that direction.

Jarrod had indeed arrived-accompanied by Sylvie.

It was clear her position hadn't been shaken; she still came and went at Jarrod's side, her privileged treatment on full display.

Some of the more seasoned insiders in the room exchanged knowing looks, quietly speculating: between Elodie and Sylvie, who was truly more secure?

But Louisa's deliberate use of the word "husband" in front of everyone carried a pointed significance.

Who here wasn't sharp enough to catch her meaning?

It was obvious that President Barnes was slighting Sylvie's presence.

When Jarrod entered, he spotted Elodie. His gaze lingered on her for a couple of seconds, neither avoiding nor seeking her out, making it clear there was no longer any need for pretense.

He adjusted his pace and, almost naturally, made his way toward Elodie.

Sylvie frowned but chose to follow.

Watching the scene unfold, Maurice couldn't help but be taken aback.

Elodie hadn't expected Jarrod to approach her either. Her eyes sharpened just as Jarrod stopped at her side and, turning to Louisa, greeted her, "President Barnes, it's been a while."

Sylvie, fully aware of Louisa's status, offered a polite, elegant nod. "President Barnes, nice to meet you. I'm Sylvie."

Louisa's gaze settled on Jarrod. "It has been a while. Thank you, Mr. Silverstein, for gracing us with your presence at the exhibit. If there are any shortcomings in our hospitality, I hope you'll forgive us."

Only then did she spare Sylvie a fleeting glance, nodding briefly before addressing Elodie, "Feel free to look around. If you need anything, just let me know."

Louisa knew exactly what kind of woman Sylvie was and had no interest in putting on a show.

Sylvie could feel the difference in treatment-especially after she'd just witnessed Louisa and Elodie chatting so warmly.

Her brow furrowed for a moment, but she quickly composed herself.

With Louisa gone, Elodie had no desire to linger. But Jarrod happened to look at her, his tone even as he asked, "Who invited you tonight?"

The question caught her off guard.

Elodie glanced at him. “Does that have anything to do with you, Mr. Silverstein?"

Did he think her presence was the reason Sylvie felt awkward?

Jarrod could sense Elodie's indifference; she didn't even bother to feign politeness.

That was when Esmeralda, having

finished her circuit of the room,

swept over and slipped her arm through Elodie's, shooting Sylvie a sideways glance. "Looks like

someone's had enough fillers to last a lifetime—her face barely moves."

And yet she still had the nerve to show up on Jarrod's arm, putting on airs like

some highborn intellectual. Who was she trying to impress?

Sylvie, of course, caught the jab; her eyes turned icy.

Maurice arrived just in time to hear Esmeralda's comment and hurried over, laughing awkwardly. "Ms. Mercer, you really do have a sharp tongue. We're all women here-no need to be so harsh."

Esmeralda snorted. "If we're all women, why are some so intent on stealing someone else's husband?"

Maurice was momentarily at a loss for words.

He glanced at Jarrod, who remained detached, as if none of this concerned him.

Elodie had no interest in stirring up more drama at someone else's event, so she tugged Esmeralda away in another direction.

Jarrod watched Elodie's retreating figure for a moment before finally looking away.

Maurice seized the opportunity. "Don't

tand them, Sylvie. Why nonet

e trip with Jarrod soon? A

of scenery will do you good."

Sylvie's lips finally curved into a faint smile.

That was right. Jarrod had agreed to go away with her for a few days—noveldrama

Elodie overheard, but didn't slow her pace.