How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 102

"The Warwick family and the Whitakers-now that's a powerhouse alliance if I ever saw one."

Elodie raised her brows in mild surprise. No wonder the exhibition had such a high bar for entry. The Warwick name alone opened doors, and then there was the Whitaker network on top of that. Clearly, this wasn't the kind of event just anyone could waltz into. Even Jarrod showing up made sense now.

After finishing their tour of the first floor, Elodie and Esmeralda ascended the stairs to the second. Each gallery space had its own distinct style, a dazzling array of art on display. Elodie had always been interested in art-her mother worked in the field, after all, and she'd grown up surrounded by sketches, canvases, and the gentle scent of turpentine.

But as she wandered through the rooms on both floors, she saw nothing of her mother's work. Disappointment settled quietly in her chest.

"These paintings aren't for sale, are they?" Elodie asked.

Esmeralda—always in the know-shook her head immediately. "Nope. The Warwick collection is basically Mr. Warwick's personal passion project. Plus, he's devoted an entire section to his grandfather Raleigh's calligraphy. Really, this whole event is just an elegant excuse to expand his social circle."

That left Elodie uneasy. If she did spot her mother's painting here, how would she even begin to reclaim it?

They made their way up to the third floor.

at once, Elodie's gaze was drawn to a painting that resonated with her. She lingered before it, captivated, but since nothing here was for sale, all she could do was

she turned away, she heard Sylvie's voice from behind. "Jarrod, don't you

shoulder. Sylvie was looking

leaned down to reply, "If you like it, I can take you abroad to track down the artist and

you, but wouldn't that be too

"Not at all."

he never overlooked her wishes, always making sure she got what she wanted. If Sylvie liked a painting, Jarrod

That was the difference.

up with Esmeralda, Elodie kept scanning the walls, searching for any sign that might point back to her mother's missing

eyes caught on a canvas tucked

colors, and brushwork were nearly identical to the piece that had once hung at Fairview University: the

sought out the manager

voice steady, "I'm very interested in this

the manager could at least put her in touch with Elias, the man