How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie turned and met Jarrod's somber gaze. His long fingers were pinching a folded report, and a knot tightened in her chest. Without thinking, she snatched it from his hand.

"You read it?" she demanded.

Jarrod's eyes lingered on her pale face. "Why are you so nervous?"

He explained, calm as ever, "I saw it fall out of your pocket when I walked in. Picked it up, but didn't look at it."

Elodie breathed a shallow sigh of relief, regaining her composure. "You're reading too much into it, Mr. Silverstein."

Jarrod studied her for a moment. "You've been calling me 'Mr. Silverstein' a lot lately, Elodie."

She tucked the report back into her purse. "Was there something you needed?"

She didn't bother explaining; Sylvie had brought this up just the other day, after all. And besides, they were getting divorced-calling him Mr. Silverstein was more appropriate now.

"Are you feeling alright?" Jarrod's cold gaze swept over her, an unusual hint of concern in his voice.

But Elodie knew better. His concern wasn't real. She'd just witnessed how anxious he'd been over Sylvie catching a simple cold. His polite inquiry was just that— politeness, nothing more.

It was Jarrod's way: always courteous, never truly invested. There was a time when she'd been foolish enough to be moved by that façade.

"It's nothing serious. I was just visiting my uncle," she answered coolly, out of courtesy.

sick," Jarrod said

at him, waiting for him

expression was unreadable, the ease with which he discussed his mistress with his

kept her waiting over an hour, and she caught a chill." He took out a pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, but after a moment's

Mr. Silverstein?"

think Sylvie got sick because of something she'd said to

"Why were you at VistaLink Technologies

demand an explanation—he couldn't care less why she was in the

Silverstein. I left The Silverstein Group, so naturally I have to find work elsewhere. I

scrutinized her for a

possibly

small, humorless laugh, the amusement

caught the implication instantly. To him, she'd never measure up to Sylvie. Leaving

manage just fine, Mr. Silverstein. You don't need to worry

were about to become strangers. There was

more.

for his grandmother ended up with Sylvie. He'd clearly recognized her cooking, yet chose to say nothing, silently endorsing her being turned into Sylvie's

it because he didn't care about such trivial

It was because he'd never respected

tone wasn't sharp, but the