How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 653

Impossible to read.

After everything that had happened today-plus the looming threat that could explode at any moment-Elodie's face was an unreadable mask. "I need you to leave."

Jarrod looked at her, undeterred by her rejection. "That's not one of the choices I'm giving you."

"Jarrod, what are you doing? I never said I needed you." Her fists clenched tighter at her sides.

"But I need you." He met her gaze directly, refusing to let her retreat behind her carefully composed facade. "Elodie, I need to see you with my own eyes. I'm not the only one who got shaken up tonight."

He made no effort to hide his vulnerability.

Today had been a wake-up call for him-how suddenly things could spin out of control, how defenseless he really was against the unpredictable.

But his honesty didn't move Elodie. She knew what Jarrod was like. She had always known.

She wasn't in the mood to talk, not to him or anyone else. Her mind was too crowded with its own worries. So she simply turned her back on him, treating the infamous Mr. Silverstein as if he were invisible.

Jarrod just stood there, staring at her narrow shoulders. The collar of her shirt had slipped, revealing a patch of angry bruising on her shoulder, already starting to turn a mottled purple.

He couldn't look away from that injury. His eyes darkened with a heavy, repressed emotion.

Elodie had expected that she'd be up all night, haunted by the evening's fright and the doctor's grim words. But to her surprise, she slept soundly until morning.

When she woke, she became aware of something wrapped around her waist. She glanced down. An arm.

frowned, pried his hand away, and sat

me like that." "You fell asleep clutching my

before she could even

I'm not exactly stronger than you," Elodie said

his brow, then sat up and beat her to the door, glancing back

and headed into

pressed her

as flipping a coin, but she was

his face with cold

Elodie was gone. Even her suitcase, which she'd

She'd left.

and clean.

want to

trace of her still lingered

the side of the bed where she'd slept. He could still feel the faint warmth she'd

stayed that way for a

her flight, landing

heard what happened, barely slept a wink that night. She drove straight to the

from head to toe, face drawn tight with worry. Only when she was sure Elodie was all right did she start to pout, almost on the verge of tears. "What the hell, El? Why didn't you call Jarrod Silverstein? You're supposed to be getting revenge, not rolling over like some pushover! What

to reassure

okay, under control. Jarrod's handling things. You

an urgent

okay, it's under contret