How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 415

Esmeralda immediately switched topics. "Didn't you just submit your paper? I actually heard some inside news from a friend-turns out Sylvie finally finished hers as well. And rumor has it she submitted to the same top-tier journal. Isn't that a coincidence?"

Elodie had known that Sylvie had been desperate to get an academician to review her work. Now, suddenly, the paper was done.

And to a top journal, no less?

"I just asked Alex," Esmeralda continued. "Alex said Sylvie has a real knack for grabbing attention. Her reputation's been iffy lately, so if she can pull off a solid academic achievement right now, it's perfect timing."

Elodie thought for a moment.

She'd only just met with Professor Waldron a few days ago, and now Sylvie's paper was finished.

Chances were... Mr. Ferguson had helped?

Mr. Ferguson, with his famously prickly temperament-could Jarrod really have convinced him?

Well, Jarrod always did have a talent for picking the perfect moment. This particular timing couldn't be better.

engagement. On the other hand, the paper was finished. It was like Jarrod

only thing Elodie couldn't figure out was whether Jarrod had asked Professor Waldron just

both of your papers are published, everyone will see the difference clear as

wasn't arrogant enough to underestimate her

Waldron's guidance, then her work

later, Esme. I've got something to take care

Esmeralda could respond, Elodie had already ended the

and fear, or to preserve that last scrap of dignity in the face of life and death, she couldn't say. She was just an ordinary person, with her own private fears, her stubborn pride that might seem laughable to others. She hadn't even fully accepted her own diagnosis, or the possibility

drew in a

she made her way back into the

was no different this

tolerance low, and the drugs were harsh. The pain was just as bad

hadn't eaten; all she could do was retch up bitter stomach

collapsed against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on

the

in a corner, painfully thin

his tracks, his gaze zeroing