How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

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.

eyes mocking. "Elodie, have you forgotten

just to make

wildly out of proportion. "The cake was being shared with a

glinted with

this was her

perhaps I should 'accidentally' let slip a word or two about Ms. Fielding's

of cold sharpness crossing her

them had

dignified to throw a tantrum like this, in

"Let's talk outside."

At last.

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

toward the door, not seeming the least bit concerned about disturbing Selma's peace. It

out. In the corridor, Jarrod leaned

was even colder. "What you think is your business. I care about one thing: the outcome. Those two need to be transferred to another hospital today. I don't want them or anyone else bothering the Thorne family again. Otherwise, no one here gets

came to her family. That was her line in the