How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 221

The old woman glanced between the two of them, then strode over and gave Jarrod Silverstein a sharp smack on the arm. "You stubborn boy, why aren't you even talking to Elodie? When are you going to fix that attitude of yours?"

She'd noticed, of course-ever since Jarrod walked in the door, his attention had been glued to a pile of books, as if they were more interesting than Elodie Thorne ever could be.

Maurice Nilsson, overhearing from the phone, chimed in with a teasing laugh, "He's just afraid if you show Ms. Thorne a little kindness, she'll get ideas and won't want to leave. Women, you know..."

"They're all soft-hearted in the end."

Especially a woman like Elodie, still so deeply in love with Jarrod.

Jarrod ignored Maurice's comment and pretended not to hear, ending the call without a word.

"What are you waiting for? Go drive Elodie to work," the old woman insisted, unwilling to let Elodie walk alone. She grabbed Jarrod by the arm and marched him toward the door.

Elodie had just closed the trunk and spoke calmly, "Grandma, it's all right. Really, there's no need to trouble anyone."

as disinterested in playing chauffeur. He offered a cool half-smile

mid-step for just a moment. Her brow

almost admired Jarrod's ability to keep

to drive her-she didn't. But every time Jarrod didn't want to do something, he always made it

her flowers inside. She'd tended these flowers for years. Back when she lived with

woman, to her mother's death, and finally to that unspeakable night with Jarrod

it was Ivan Harcourt who'd arranged for her to have

home-she could do as she pleased. Not that

the health of the leaves, making sure everything was thriving before

with the academy held a lot of promise. It would give her a valuable edge for her upcoming research publication, and be a major boost when she eventually applied for graduate

morning, Alexander Sterling pulled up to drive her to the airport. They still didn't know which other companies would be

tailored trench coat and heels. Keith, Jarrod's executive assistant, was with her, clearly there to see her off. Sylvie spotted Alexander, gave him

the sight of Keith-if Jarrod had sent someone of his rank to escort Sylvie, it spoke volumes about how much