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.”

managed a bitter

just

hardening. “Didn’t you

for me—even try to get close to Elodie? I’m not

talk my father into saving me, won’t

seemed to echo in

Liked her?

was true—years ago, he’d said those very words to

since he was seven that he and Patricia

blood.

Patricia hadn’t turned into the person she

only after she discovered the truth

that

out of control.

her overseas for college, just

during

had left

and volatile

diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

been there for

lowest. For two years,

of her, but

about what he thought

clung stubbornly

years

Watts clashed

as well, only

spectacularly. Both failures weighed

him, and he’d never

on.

looking at the woman in front of him, even his

and fade.

cooled, and he

hand

to be done.

Jarrod’s revenge—Patricia, I don’t