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.

Jarrod said

him, waiting for him

he discussed his mistress with his wife almost

went to see Alexander at VistaLink Technologies the other day. He 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 pause, slid

point, Mr. Silverstein?" Elodie met his eyes,

because of something she'd said to

irony. "Why were you at VistaLink

was only here to demand an explanation—he couldn't care less why she was in

world, Mr. Silverstein. I left The Silverstein Group, so naturally I have to find work elsewhere. I need to make a living, don't I?"

scrutinized her for a

possibly do

laugh, the amusement never reaching his

implication instantly. To him, she'd never measure up to Sylvie. Leaving The Silverstein Group was,

fine, Mr. Silverstein. You

to become strangers. There was

more.

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

because he didn't care

It was because he'd never respected her, not

sharp, but