How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elodie hadn't been looking well lately.

She'd noticed it herself the last time-now, she'd fainted again.

Did Jarrod... know about any of this?

Elodie didn't sleep a wink that night.

When morning came, she felt drained, her nerves frayed. The looming issue with the gallery hung over her like a guillotine, impossible to ignore. She couldn't shake the feeling that things weren't over yet.

After turning it over in her mind, she decided to take matters into her own hands.

She called Jarrod, but whatever he was doing, he didn't pick up. Or maybe-he just didn't want to.

Either way, Elodie no longer cared about the why.

She headed straight for The Silverstein Group.

She'd worked there for three years-long enough that the receptionist recognized her. Elodie phoned Keith in the executive office; his voice was as chilly as ever. "Mr. Silverstein is busy, Ms. Thorne. You'll have to wait."

Elodie made her way upstairs and settled into the lounge.

bother with

well. In the past, she'd made a point to befriend them—lunches, coffee breaks, a

pleased to see her, and after some small talk, one of them said, "You might

in with a wink. "More like the apple of his

with work to see her. He was with Sylvie—and

like she owns the place. No restrictions, no

god—are we talking about some office

like a spectator

make appointments and wait her

out, untouchable. Everyone else

of tea, then hurried off, leaving her

and went from the executive suite, but

steadying breath, Elodie realized she couldn't just sit here forever.

still busy?" she

in hand, and gave a crooked smile. "You're

that supposed

Silverstein didn't know you were waiting. He left with Ms. Fielding

there was no

being here? Or had Jarrod known, and simply