How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie met Ivan's gaze. He watched her with a hint of a smile, as if he were an outsider simply waiting to see her squirm.

She tightened her grip around her fingers, feeling the last shred of hope slip away.

Elodie didn't look away. She met his eyes, giving him exactly what he wanted. "Hello, Queenie," she said, her voice steady.

Queenie's smile widened as she wrapped her arms around Ivan's waist, leaning into him with a show of affection.

Ivan paused, glanced at Elodie for a fleeting moment, then lowered his head and led Queenie into the sitting room.

"What's with the act?" Reba strode over, her voice sharp with scorn. "My brother isn't interested in a married woman."

"And as for that Ms. Fielding-the one Mr. Silverstein invited for his birthday yesterday—she's a hotshot PhD in aerospace engineering. Someone the entire business world is fighting over. How could a housewife whose only talents are cooking and warming a bed ever compete?"

"Or maybe you're just afraid you'll be kicked out, so now you want to cozy up to the Harcourts?"

This miserable marriage-everyone was just waiting to watch her fall.

Elodie's chest twisted with pain. She set the gift she'd brought down on the table. "Don't worry. However my life turns out, it's got nothing to do with the Harcourt family. After all, my name is Thorne."

Without another word, she left, not bothering to look back.

Staying any longer would only make things worse for everyone.

"She's gone?"

just in time to see Elodie's resolute figure disappearing through the

of her daze and grumbled, "Dad, did you see that attitude? She doesn't care about the Harcourts, or you. If you ask me, Mr. Silverstein is going to divorce her sooner

Jarrod's heart. The only benefit he'd ever gotten from the marriage was at the very start, when he'd leveraged the Silverstein name for a business deal. Since then, the Harcourt

wasn't it all Elodie's fault for being so useless? She couldn't even win over her

a lost cause. If I

instantly understood what he

unconsciously glanced over at Ivan, who was

feeding grapes to Queenie

a flash of

*

a small,

signed a year-long lease; the place was only

would be easy to get there if she

leaving the

block Jarrod on her

kept his number, just in case she needed to take his call

now was make it through

aside, she took a long

Meanwhile

villa. The foyer was dark; not a single light

left a lamp burning for him, greeting him at the dently taking his coat and

on certain days each