How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

He'd always kept a trump card up his sleeve, just in case he could one day use it to keep Elodie under control and squeeze every last bit of value out of her.

But now, Elodie had changed so much, he barely recognized her.

"Dad, what are we supposed to do if Elodie won't budge, no matter what we try?" Reba's mood was foul, and she forced the words out through clenched teeth.

Malcom, for his part, was just as lost.

If things really blew up, there was a lot at stake for him, too.

If the Silverstein family traced everything back to him, what would happen then?

The whole affair would be an embarrassment for the Silversteins, and before they kicked Elodie out, there was no telling if they'd crush the Harcourts first.

"We'll have to play the long game."

Reba narrowed her eyes, thinking hard for a while. "Actually, I've met someone recently who might be very interested in Elodie's situation."

Malcom glanced at her.

Reba finally allowed herself a sly smile. "Dad, maybe it's time we tried a different approach. Grab what we can, while we still can."

The Silverstein Group.

The assistant walked in to report, "Mr. Silverstein, Mr. Nilsson is here."

Jarrod didn't even look up from his paperwork. "Let him in."

When Maurice Nilsson entered, Jarrod was still seated behind his desk, his posture perfectly straight. He wore a pair of rimless glasses perched on the bridge of his nose a habit he'd developed for work-his shirt sleeves rolled up just enough beneath a dark waistcoat, the sharp lines of the vest softening his stern presence with an air of refinement.

Maurice clicked his tongue.

That face could fool a lot of people, he thought.

"You've been impossible to pin down for a drink lately. I figured you were off building relationships-turns out, you're just married to your job?"

Jarrod shot him a sidelong glance. "Some of us aren't as free as you."

He wasn't the type to drown himself in parties or booze. He'd been to plenty of gatherings since he was a kid, but he'd never left one drunk.

Even when things blew up with Elodie, he refused to numb himself with alcohol.

He hated that kind of escapism. He preferred to keep his mind sharp and focus on actually solving his problems.

"I can't skip today. It's Freya's eighteenth birthday big event. Not showing up would be rude."

Jarrod paused, his cool gaze lingering on the documents before him as if he was weighing several thoughts.

"What time?"

"Seven tonight. We might as well head straight there after work."

"Alright." Jarrod stood and grabbed his jacket.

Maurice studied Jarrod's expression. "Shouldn't you invite Elodie, too?"

Jarrod's face was unreadable as he stepped into the elevator. "She wouldn't come."

The Delacroix family was throwing a coming-of-age party for their youngest, Freya, at their private country estate.

It was quite the affair.

Maun

Jarrod and Maurice arrived just as Freya, looking a little downcast, was telling her friends, "I have a sister really admire-Elodie, the one everyone's been talking about, But she's got work tonight and couldn't make it."

Maurice shot Jarrod a look that all but said, "Called it."

A few people came by to say hello, but Jarrod wasn't in the mood for

small. He slipped away to a

onave line

quietcorner and ordered a custom cocktail.

Maurice tracked him down, clinked glasses, and said, "You're off tonight. I can tell."

Jarrod gave him a cool look. "How so?"

"You're in a mood. It's obvious. Did you two... not work things out? Was it you who didn't want to, or her?"

It was a direct hit.

Jarrod glanced away, took a slow sip of his drink.noveldrama

Maurice's eyes darted, and he quickly concluded they must've had a serious fight.

Trying to lighten the mood, he offered, "How about we crack open a bottle of

whiskey? Something stronger."

Jarrod didn't answer.

To be honest, he suddenly wasn't

interested in the party a enough"

shown

his face, that was enou

He'd rather just go home.

He wanted to see how Elodie was doing.

He was about to stand up when-

འ་

"Mr. Silverstein, heading out already?" Patricia Aldridge's arrival was a surprise.

She approached with a glass of wine, clinking it lightly against his. "Care to chat?"

Maurice just watched Patricia, sizing her up, but stayed quiet.

Jarrod made it clear he had no intention of entertaining her.

Patricia kept smiling, undeterred. “Jarrod, I don't mind that you've been married before."