How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 435

He had someone lead Elodie and Alexander over to one of the tables.

Meanwhile, Jarrod and Sylvie lingered, chatting a bit longer with Steene.

Alexander poured Elodie a glass of juice. "You two never actually had a wedding, did you?"

Elodie wrapped her hands around the chilled glass. "No, we didn't."

Her marriage to Jarrod had been one of necessity, a secret rushed through under the pressure of his family. Back then, Jarrod had been coldly decisive, keeping the press at bay and never letting a word about her slip out. Their shameful beginning had never seen the light of day, and during the three years she'd been Mrs. Silverstein, she'd felt as invisible as a ghost.

They'd only gotten the paperwork done in a hurry under his grandmother's insistence.

Jarrod never once mentioned making up for it with a proper ceremony.

She understood. The marriage had started off wrong; it made sense he wouldn't want a celebration.

But Alexander couldn't help but think Elodie had been hurt the most by the whole ordeal. In the end, she'd borne it all alone—the blame, the rumors, the isolation- her strength was all she had to cling to.

"He really believes you didn't set him up?" Alexander asked quietly. He knew a bit about what had happened-Esmeralda had confided in him once, unable to keep it to herself.

her head. "I doubt

Malcom Harcourt had been the one pulling the strings. Right

felt suffocated just thinking about what Elodie had been through. Just then, Jarrod and Sylvie came over

after another, and the conversation faded

about, her eyes shining with happiness. Alexander found himself wondering

atmosphere at the garden wedding was warm and lively, laughter drifting across the open lawn. Compared to ceremonies back home, it

bride's radiant smile, she felt a

was time for

fun. As she made her way toward the group, her phone

enough, Galen had run into a

Elodie tried to slip away from the crowd, but

mind switching

cheers ahead grew louder. Elodie sensed something flying toward her-probably the bouquet. Still on the phone, she instinctively reached up with

that exact moment, another hand shot out, colliding perfectly with

as she caught the bouquet, a broad palm closed gently over her hand, fitting around hers as if they'd rehearsed

to realize what had happened. She

the next moment, his eyes