How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

They could all hear Elodie's tone during the phone call.

Sylvie frowned slightly, saying nothing.

Maurice let out a short laugh. "Seriously, is she pulling that damsel-in-distress act for attention again?"

"Maybe she's actually sick this time." Sylvie set down her cards, her voice cool

and even.

Maurice shrugged. "Well, she could at least respect some boundaries, especially with you still here." He wasn't surprised-Elodie was never one to stay quiet for long.

Jarrod glanced at his watch. It was just after eight in the evening.

"I'll go check on her."

Maurice caught on immediately. "Right, if you ignore her and she complains to

your grandmother later, this'll be a mess to clean up."

Sylvie pressed her lips together but didn't comment.

Jarrod's eyes remained as cold and unreadable as ever. "You two keep playing. I'll be back in a bit."

Sylvie's posture eased a little. "Alright."

Maurice grinned. "Got it. I know what you mean-just don't let her rope you into anything."

stood in the hallway, one hand in his pocket, looking down at

aside to let

there was a faint trace of women's

with

replying

her, noticing how drained she

She wasn't faking.

tone neutral. "There are three

he was taking

"...Thank you."

and looked at her, his eyes deep and distant. After a moment, he asked,

into bed, her head foggy and heavy, her whole

kettle was still heating

medicine once

her eyes and saw Jarrod still standing there, watching her as if lost in

hesitated. "You're...

at her, letting out a faint, ironic laugh. "You're quick to

done getting what

he didn't linger. He set

didn't dwell

out of sleep

room service with

soup and

order this. Is there a mistake?" she

server replied, "Mr. Silverstein requested it be brought up to