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.

eyes mocking. "Elodie, have you

to make

proportion. "The cake was being shared with a

eyes glinted

now this was

half-smile. "A mistake, was it? Then perhaps I should 'accidentally' let slip a word or two about

of cold sharpness crossing her

either of them had seen Elodie

was dignified to throw

"Let's talk outside."

At last.

unreadable as he finally spoke, his voice as calm

seeming the least bit concerned about disturbing Selma's peace. It was as if

a glance as she followed him out. In the corridor,

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 to

anything except when it came to

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