How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

There would be more caution from now on.

And as it turned out, that was the right call.

Sprague truly was ruthless-he'd tried to use the Quinn family to get Jarrod killed, hoping that a corpse would be his ticket home.

If Jarrod had actually died out there, in that war-torn region, who would be held responsible?

With the Silverstein Group left leaderless, the second branch of the family would inevitably seize power. If Sprague rose to the top, Watts would profit alongside him.

It was all connected, one link after another.

Elodie had always known Jarrod to be a cautious man with a mind as deep as a well, but seeing just how far ahead he'd planned still left her quietly impressed.

Especially now, with Watts utterly defeated.

Because of her, Watts could never return home. Even Eaton Aldridge would think twice before letting Watts back into the country. If Watts were ever held to account, it would stain Eaton's political record-a scandal with far-reaching consequences.

Both Watts and Patricia had been thoroughly ruined.

From now on, both of them would be under Jarrod's control: one forever barred from returning home to fulfill his ambitions, the other trapped in a cage she'd never escape, so long as Jarrod willed it and Watts remained in exile.

It put an end to a whole host of future problems.

No room for error.

No lingering threats.

the first time, Elodie finally felt a

drift for a moment, until suddenly

for the collar of

to his chest to stop her.

shot him a look. "Quit covering up. Move

deliberate slowness,

had closed up, and the scar on his chest had faded to a pale line. There was still some healing to do, but nothing

more than twenty days, he'd come

a breath, reassured. She'd worried that Jarrod might have suffered

most of what had happened when Fleming went to

go when Jarrod caught her by

bet

looked up at him, suddenly aware of how

in the

between them, warm and

he tightened

on her face, tracing every inch, drifting from her lips to

between them, weaving through every

never been able to handle that look of his-the way his

was nothing crude about it, never too obvious-just the right

have

But now...

make a move, Elodie leaned in, stopping just short of his