How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Patricia was completely shaken by what had happened.

She just couldn't understand how she'd ended up like this. She came from the

best possible background—her father was a man of power, her mother one of the

country's rare self-made businesswomen—so how on earth had she fallen so far?

All she could do was clutch at the bars between them, fingers tangled in Watts's

sleeve, her eyes red as she stared at him. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t

you? Watts, you know me—I can’t survive in a place like that! It’s torture! And for

three whole years?”

She had never, in all her life, felt this kind of fear.

Never could she have imagined tripping up over something like this. If it hadn’t

been Jarrod who was caught with the banned substances, she would have

walked away untouched. But the night before she left for her art show abroad,

Jarrod had pushed her too far. She’d let her emotions get the best of her, let

herself spiral out of control—and, just her luck, that was the night she got caught

red-handed.

Watts glanced down at Patricia’s grip, noticing how she’d wrinkled his shirt sleeve.

His obsessive nature recoiled at the sight; he hated things like this, and Patricia

knew it—she just never cared. Only her own feelings ever mattered.

“If there was a way out,” he said, indulging her just one last time, “do you really

think you’d still be here? I warned you ages ago: you and Jarrod were never right

for each other. You trying to dominate him was always doomed to fail.”

eyes were bloodshot, but she managed a

I just wanted to

her voice hardening. “Didn’t you

close to Elodie? I’m not going

talk my father into

words seemed to echo

Liked her?

said

seven that he and

blood.

then, Patricia hadn’t turned into the person she was

truth about herself

left the country. From that moment

out of control.

her overseas for college, just

during Patricia’s

Jarrod had

and volatile she

diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

been there for her,

her lowest. For

of her,

about what he thought

clung

wasting years

clashed with

well, only

spectacularly. Both failures weighed

him, and he’d never

on.

in front of him, even his feelings seemed to

and fade.

cooled, and he

her hand off

nothing to be

Jarrod’s revenge—Patricia, I don’t