How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

They arranged for a private lounge.

The main party slipped away quietly, as if choreographed.

Today, no matter what, everything had to be laid bare.

Esmeralda watched the scene unfold, hastily wiping the corner of her eye before pulling free from Alexander's grasp. "I'm going too."

It was obvious-this was a trial for Elodie.

This time, Alexander didn't try to stop her. Since they'd already decided to make a clean break, there was no point in pretending this was merely "family business behind closed doors." At this point, who did Elodie truly have left on her side? Only he and Esmeralda could still stand up for her.

Jarrod held tightly to Elodie's wrist, silent. She could feel how cold his fingers were.

As they left, Maurice Nilsson and his companions noticed, casting curious glances from afar.

Before they could process what was happening, Ivan Harcourt arrived.

He knew Elodie would be here today and had come to check in. Spotting Maurice, he strode over. "Mr. Nilsson, are Mr. Silverstein and Elodie not here?"

him and nodded toward the lounge. "They just went that way. Not sure what's

Queenie Jett about today; he'd hoped to clear up these messy affairs

tension thickened as everyone's gaze settled on

broke the silence at

grandmother-what's going on

need to explain about the

now, "I'm not here to blame you. I just need you to be honest with us." For people her age, things like this were monumental-she cared

She's not here to answer your accusations-she's not some vessel at your disposab If

words made Elodie's

the baby, would at least tacitly allow his mother and the others to turn on

by name. Her face darkened, but what could she do when her own son sided against her so

was giving her an out. She could choose not to

But...

it in for too long. The physical torment, the relentless pressure —it was only a matter of time before

a

clenched her fists, how her posture remained ramrod straight, as if nothing in the world could ever

the flush in her