How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 481

When Grady's doubts echoed through the hall, even some of the audience began to waver. They all knew just how astonishing Elodie's presentation had been-by any standard, it was nothing short of world-class.

And Grady did have a point.

How old was Elodie, really? She had only just turned twenty-five. For most people, that's still the age of graduate studies or slogging through the early years of a PhD. Even among prodigies, few would have accomplished more than following in their advisor's footsteps, slowly learning the ropes.

But Elodie? She had already driven major breakthroughs in flight control systems at VistaLink Technologies, producing results that left experts in awe. Not only that, she'd authored academic papers so exceptional that even the leading minds in the field offered their praise. She was decades ahead of her peers-perhaps even ahead of what most would call genius-without the so-called years of experience most deemed necessary.

The more people thought about it, the harder it was to believe.

So when the questions started, it was inevitable that some would begin to doubt. Maybe, just maybe, Elodie was no different from everyone else—maybe she just knew how to play the game, how to claim a crown that didn't belong to her.

Out of the thousands present, some believed, and some didn't.

But they didn't know the whole story.

When Alexander spoke up, Sylvie's carefully constructed calm shattered in an instant. She couldn't hide the shock that flickered in her eyes. She tried to convince herself that Alexander didn't mean what she thought.

But Alexander, hands in his pockets, looked right at her, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Yes,” he said, "these are Elodie's own work."

Only then did Sylvie's composure break completely.

calm and untroubled, as if she had never once considered Sylvie a rival. To Sylvie,

Elodie's papers that could be valuable for the students here. They're in the

all means," the

that supposed

look. "It means we're making sure Mr. Mercer

moved quickly. When the journal covers appeared on the big screen, the crowd

in the department recognized those two papers. Professors had referenced them countless times;

the screen, her face draining of color. So that author she'd noticed during her trip to New York

papers had been

Elodie

"Ms. Fielding, do you still

even a doctoral student, so who, exactly, would have

accusations right back at him-publicly,

of fire. She said nothing. A chill crept

had never cared for Sylvie's response. All he wanted was for

students' excitement was palpable, but even

room were stunned. All eyes turned to

Sterling had taken notice of