How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue
Chapter 13
Sylvie had just earned her drone license, and she piloted the thing with effortless skill.
Every swoop and loop she pulled from the sky brought another burst of applause.
Talented, poised, completely self-assured.
No wonder, really.
It was easy to see how Jarrod could fall for her at first sight.
A woman like Sylvie-she had everything it took to turn heads and draw men in.
Elodie had to admit, even from a neutral perspective, that Sylvie was magnetic. She was gentle, confident, and composed-raised with every advantage, smart and ambitious, and beautiful to boot.
Wherever she went, the spotlight followed.
But...
Everything Sylvie had was stolen.
Her mother and Elodie's mother had once been friends. Sylvie's mom had grown up with little, and Elodie's mother had stepped in-paying her college tuition, helping her get into grad school.
But in the end...
Sylvie's mother plagiarized Elodie's mother's work.
climbed the social ladder over Elodie's mother's broken back. After landing herself a wealthy husband abroad, she
a finger, and everything she wanted just fell into
edge crept into Elodie's eyes. It was
performance was flawless, and as soon as she left the stage, a swarm of
the middle of the crowd, jostled several times as the reporters
dodge. She stumbled,
spark between you
Elodie looked up.
pulled Sylvie into the crook of his arm, shielding her from the press. His expression was cold, his presence enough to make the journalists hesitate. "Please, don't touch her," he said, voice low and
giggled and exchanged
Silverstein, you treat Ms. Fielding so well! Are
Jarrod's gaze flicker her way
What did that mean?
he warning her to
sharp, needling pain radiated up from her ankle, spreading into her stomach. She bit down on her lip and tried to stand, needing to get out of
someone grabbed
Listen, don't cause a scene. It's just an interview. Don't embarrass Sylvie―don't drag everyone down with
stared at
she'd rush over and blurt out the
her arm from Joseph's grip, her
bother replying-just turned on her heel and walked away,
after
at his hand, still tingling from where she'd pulled away,
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