How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Cold sweat poured down Jarrod's back as he bent over, gasping for breath. Warm blood trickled steadily from the wound behind him—he knew the injury was deep, the pain so fierce it felt as if his chest might split open.

Malcom, meanwhile, had been knocked to the ground several times already, nearly vomiting from the force of a kick to his stomach. Still, he scrambled upright, snarling, "Back off! If you come any closer, I'll throw her down right now!"

Jarrod could feel his strength draining away with every heartbeat. He'd been running a high fever for over twenty-four hours and hadn't fully recovered. Now, this wound left his head swimming, the world turning hazy at the edges. But he refused to show any weakness.

Malcom finally tasted a twisted satisfaction at the sight. "Well, well, Mr. Silverstein -never thought I'd see you like this! Consider this payback!" He had come here because he needed something from Jarrod, but that didn't mean he would pass up the chance for revenge.

Jarrod's eyes were icy and remote as he forced himself to stand tall. "Don't hurt her. Whatever you want-I'll give it to you."

Malcom didn't waste time with more threats. He bolted up the stairs, not daring to give Jarrod even a second to regain the upper hand. He knew this man-one slip, and everything could be over.

Jarrod clutched his chest, gulping down air, then forced himself to stagger outside. He needed to make sure Elodie was safe.

From upstairs, Elodie couldn't see what was happening below. She tried to keep her voice steady as she called out, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me-just stay calm, okay?"

She had no idea what a cornered Malcom might do. Her first instinct was to protect Jarrod.

He didn't mention his wound. Drawing a silent, shaky breath, he raised his voice so she could hear: "Don't be afraid, Elodie. Trust me I won't let anything happen

to you."

Malcom had reached the third floor now, his voice shrill and ragged: "I know everything! You destroyed the Harcourt Group! Jarrod, this is what you deserve!"

Jarrod's expression turned even colder, darker. He'd never intended to reveal the truth-he'd hoped to quietly

screech of tires cut through

out of his car, his face stricken with rage and fear. "Malcom,

assembled, Malcom made his demand: "I want a hundred million dollars and safe passage out

as he braced himself against the car, eyes locked on Elodie

soon as the words left his lips, Jarrod glanced sideways at Ivan, giving him a look that conveyed

immediately. He melted into the shadows, vanishing

you'd better guarantee her safety. Otherwise, you won't be the only one ruined-no one

bristled at Ivan's words. That man, who had once needed the Harcourts' support, now dared to threaten

the moment,

conversation. "That's all

You've already

should explain your plan

was already moving

could reach the third floor in

sign of Ivan, but

thundered behind

Elodie's heart froze.

strong, and at his own age, he stood no

charging straight at Malcom and