How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

4:00 PM.

Outside, the sky hung heavy and gray, and a sharp wind rattled the windowpanes.

Elodie's phone buzzed again—it was her grandmother calling.

"Gran, is everything alright?"

Rosemary hardly ever called her during work hours, not unless something urgent had come up.

There was a pause on the other end before Rosemary finally said, "Elodie, remember I mentioned selling the house a while ago? You wouldn't let me, so instead, I've put your mother's old, closed-down art gallery on the market. It's just sitting there collecting dust, and I thought it'd be better to get you some cash for it..."

She felt Elodie ought to know.

Life in the Silverstein family hadn't been easy for Elodie. Rosemary couldn't bear to see her only granddaughter looked down on, and she was certain Elodie's mother would have agreed.

Elodie's expression shifted.

So that call earlier-it was real.

"Gran, you don't need to worry about whether I have enough money. I'm working now, and my yearly bonus will be more than enough. There's no need to sell the gallery."

She knew her grandmother meant well—she simply feared Elodie would have no standing in the Silverstein family and wanted to give her something solid to hold onto.

Rosemary hesitated, then pressed on, "But the buyer's really interested and offered a good price. Maybe you could at least go take a look?"

her brow. "Alright, I'll go

sighed, saying nothing

down. She feared Elodie was suffering in her marriage, and since Elodie wouldn't let her sell the house, she'd decided to sell the gallery instead to give

quickly gathered her things, called back the buyer,

smile. "Ms. Thorne, the buyer is quite wealthy. You'll get

Elodie didn't respond.

until she was led into the

sight of the people inside,

clenched her

glanced over at her, unhurried, his gaze cool. "Got time

deep, and suddenly she

Maurice, who was idly scrolling

Sylvie seemed unsurprised, but Maurice raised an eyebrow, looking

a slow, steadying breath and walked over. "You're the

his head. "Not me. It's

had brought back dozens of paintings from abroad, and needed a permanent home for them. Sylvie, ever

figured buying a gallery was the

himself was surprised to discover

even paler, cold air filling

hadn't seen this

mother really likes the gallery's design and location. Name your

her lips into a