How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 338

Chapter 338

Elodie's voice was steady as ice-each word clear, clipped, and utterly detached. Even in anger, she never lost control; her calm, restrained demeanor was somehow more unsettling than outright fury.

Her gaze, frosted and unyielding, was fixed squarely on Jarrod.

She didn't even bother directing her accusation at Sylvie and Selma. They weren't worth the effort. Elodie refused to stoop to their level or get dragged into a scene with them.

She knew all too well how people measured their actions by the company they kept. If not for Jarrod's silent indulgence, Selma wouldn't have dared to act this way.

Why was that?

Because even when Jarrod said nothing, his mere presence emboldened them.

So Elodie went straight to the root of the problem.

Jarrod's expression didn't change. Underneath that surface calm was the habitual indifference of someone who'd spent years not caring.

He said nothing.

thin line, her eyes mocking. "Elodie,

here just to

pale, her tone heavy with disapproval, as if Elodie was blowing things wildly out of proportion. "The cake was being shared with a lot

eyes glinted

now this was her

I should 'accidentally'

cold

was the first time either of them had seen Elodie abandon every pretense of

it was dignified to throw a tantrum like this, in front

"Let's talk outside."

At last.

his voice as calm and flat as ever, betraying nothing of his true

bit concerned about disturbing Selma's peace. It was as if Elodie's

didn't spare Sylvie or Selma so much as a glance as she followed him out. In the corridor, Jarrod leaned against the wall, looking down at her

you think is your business. I care about one thing: the outcome. Those two need to be transferred to another hospital today. I

tolerate almost anything except when it came to her family. That was her

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