How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 173

Jarrod didn't argue.

But Elodie had changed, in some subtle way, and he noticed.

Now, from across the room, he stared at her—watching every flicker of emotion

on her face, searching for what was real.

The silence between them was broken by the shrill ring of his phone.

It was a call from the office.

He reached for it, meaning to answer right away, but hesitated, glancing at Elodie. "Do you mind if I take this?"

It was as if he needed her permission.

Elodie couldn't care less about his tone. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead as a sharp pain twisted through her abdomen-fierce and sudden. She nearly lost control. In the dim light, her lips went even paler, and her breath trembled as she managed a faint nod.

Jarrod turned aside to take the call.

A man's voice came through: "Mr. Silverstein, Ms. Fielding's been adjusting the data all day, but she can't get the tests right. She refuses to leave, hasn't eaten a thing. Honestly, it looks like she won't go home until it's finished..."

Jarrod frowned, just slightly.

to reach her bag for her medication by the door. Summoning the last of her

conversation, his voice tense, and didn't hear

with her body. Gritting her teeth, she reached out and grabbed

around to snatch his coat from the couch. His movements were abrupt and rushed. As he grabbed his coat, her hand was brushed aside, roughly, without a

striding toward the door. "Something urgent's come up. Get

opened

left behind, swayed a little from the force of

gone, already out of

even

curling into herself on the sofa, trying to make her body as small as possible-anything to dull the pain that tore through

passed before it eased enough

the entryway, opened her bag, and, with trembling hands, shoved a handful of painkillers and her prescription pills into her mouth, swallowing

felt nothing-no anger, no resentment.

not sparing a

worked quickly.

face with cold water, steadied herself, and picked up

typed out one