How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Seeing the situation unfold, Rosemary felt her knees go weak. She collapsed into the nearest chair, struggling to catch her breath.

Emile hurried over and gently patted her on the back. "It's all right. The surgery is going as expected. With so many leading specialists in there, nothing's going to go wrong."

But Rosemary was far from reassured. Her heart was caught in her throat, neither dropping nor settling.

Esmeralda suddenly clutched Alexander's sleeve. "Alex, there won't be any problems, right?"

She looked so pale, he could see the worry etched into every line of her face as she stared at the glowing light above the operating room door. "No," Alexander said, trying to sound steady. "Elodie's always been strong. The doctors know exactly what they're doing."

Esmeralda's heart hammered in her chest. She couldn't calm down, so she glanced across the waiting room at Jarrod.

His jaw was clenched tight, knuckles bone-white as he gripped the arms of his wheelchair. He didn't seem to notice or perhaps didn't care—that he'd strained his back so badly his hospital gown was stained red.

The sight made Esmeralda's breath hitch. For years she'd thought Jarrod was cold and indifferent, especially toward Elodie. As far as she knew, Elodie had suffered endlessly for loving him, while he'd remained unmoved. But now, in this moment, she saw something else on his face: pure, unmistakable fear.

throat painfully dry. He forced himself to stay calm. If there were any way to trade places and give Elodie his

waiting room was so taut you could almost hear it

had passed before

to their feet, moving as one

emerged, exhaustion etched on

he pulled off his mask. There were still traces of blood on his

himself forward. "How is

crowding the doorway and

barely left his lips before everyone burst into tears of

warmth return to his frozen limbs. The fist that had been squeezing his heart finally let go, and he drew a ragged, shuddering breath. It was as if he'd been pulled back from the edge of a cliff and

laugh and cry all at once, wiping at her tears with trembling hands. "I knew it—I just knew it! If something had

to contain. Ever since

woman—Sylvie—murmured a few quiet prayers of thanks, her hands clasped