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.

didn't bother with a

made a point to befriend them—lunches, coffee breaks, a little harmless gossip—anything to

after some small talk, one of them said, "You might be waiting a while,

guest?" another chimed in with a wink. "More like the apple of

stuck in meetings, too swamped with work to see her. He was with

The Silverstein Group like she owns the place. No restrictions, no appointments-Mr. Silverstein's door is always

god—are we talking

numbly, feeling like a spectator in

had to make appointments and wait her

out, untouchable. Everyone else cleared the way

brought Elodie a cup of tea,

went from the executive suite, but no one came to invite

a steadying breath, Elodie realized she couldn't just sit here forever. She spotted Keith rounding the corner and

Jarrod still

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

that supposed

waiting. He left with Ms. Fielding

there was no mistaking the cool calculation in

about her being here? Or had