How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

She clenched her fingers and said evenly, "No one wants to get a stye. Just so everyone's aware."

She didn't want to explain, nor did she feel the need to.

Jarrod studied her, his expression unreadable.

"Stop making excuses. If I hadn't caught you, you'd never have admitted it," Octavia complained, glaring at her. "This is so annoying. This is a guesthouse- everything's taken care of here. Why are you even following us around? We don't need you."

For the past three years, to escape her mother's nagging, Octavia often spent weekends or holidays at her brother's place. Elodie had always fussed over her like a housekeeper.

Octavia had gotten used to it, so she automatically assumed that Elodie was using the pretense of looking after her to stir up trouble for everyone.

"What's going on?" Queenie and Ivan came out one after the other.

Ivan glanced at the isolated, outnumbered Elodie and grinned. "Mr. Silverstein, why's the mood so tense?"

Octavia, though young, could read the room. She knew Ivan was, at least in name, Elodie's brother, so she just pursed her lips and fell silent.

But Elodie understood-Ivan was offering her a way out, a chance to move past this.

Sylvie didn't comment, just turned to Queenie. "Let's go grab a bite."

Queenie wasn't interested in the drama either, and left with Sylvie.

if he hadn't even noticed Elodie's awkward predicament. "Mr. Silverstein, I'll leave you to your family

didn't even care that Jarrod was parading his mistress around he wasn't going

to say more, but Jarrod shot her a look. The

gaze lingered on Ivan's back for a few

are you looking at?" Jarrod's cool, detached voice snapped her

and met his

was cold, emotionless. "Care to

on you," Elodie

me your phone." He almost sounded like he believed

Elodie frowned. "Why?"

her hand. His long fingers tapped the camera and opened her

was so stunned her breath trembled. "You actually think I'd sneak photos of

this supposed to be some kind of

inappropriate there-then

black eyes were cold and sharp, his tone so indifferent it made her skin prickle. "Three years ago you managed to invite the press to photograph us in bed.

still couldn't let go

taken advantage of him when he was drunk. That she'd called in the reporters to publicize their affair. That she'd forced

matter how she explained herself,

to prove

with Sylvie will make even bigger headlines?"

"She's different. If photos like that got out, it would damage her

implication was clear: there was a world of difference between her and