How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

She gazed at the small bedside lamp off to the side, her mind wanderingnoveldrama

restlessly, picturing what her daughter might look like. Would she resemble her more, or would she take after Jarrod?

She'd heard people say daughters often look like their fathers.

The thought made her glance up at Jarrod's profile, quiet and composed in the dim light.

His features were striking-sharp yet harmonious, his nose high and elegant but not harsh, a single mole at the bridge giving him a hint of mystery. His eyelids were perfectly creased, and his lips, set against his pale skin, looked almost vividly red. Every detail of his face seemed carefully carved, refined to the last line.

She'd always known-there weren't many faces out there to rival Jarrod's.

If their daughter looked like him...

Well, there'd be nothing to complain about.

She must have stared too long. Her gaze lingered, almost unwittingly, on his lips for a few heartbeats.

Realizing it a moment too late, Elodie's spine stiffened. She averted her eyes quickly, feeling a warm flush creep up to her ears.

She shut her eyes, determined to clear her mind of all these tangled thoughts.

The second her eyelids closed, Jarrod glanced over, catching that awkward, flustered expression of hers for a split second.

A silent, fleeting smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

The next morning, Elodie woke to find the other side of the bed empty.

She rubbed her eyes and sat up. "Jarrod?"

No answer from the bathroom either.

She went to freshen up. As she changed, she lifted her shirt before the dressing mirror, checking her abdomen. The small incision had almost completely healed, though the scar would take more time to fade.

She still needed to stay on her medication for a while-antibiotics, hormone supplements, all to prevent complications and balance her recovery. The full course would take some time to finish. She just had to push through a little longer.

Once dressed, she headed downstairs.

Cara was already bustling about the kitchen.

The housekeeper smiled, eyes crinkling. "Morning, Mrs. Silverstein. Did you sleep well?"

Elodie nodded. "Where's Jarrod?"

She glanced at the clock-surprised to see it was already nine. She almost never slept in this late.

Cara began setting out breakfast. "Mr. Silverstein asked me not to wake you. He had some urgent business at the office."

Elodie let it go, though a little crestfallen.

She'd gone to bed excited at the thought of seeing a photo of her daughter this morning. The anticipation had filled her dreams,

and it was all she could think about when she woke up.

Now that he was at the office, that would have to wait.

She sat down, checked her phone. There was an important meeting today-a session with several pilots to conduct a detailed review of the aircraft Nothing too formal, organized by VistaLink

nove

Technologies, at a private club near their offices.

She had to be there before ten.

Thankfully, her recovery had gone well, and she didn't feel weak at all. In fact, having something to do made her feel more at ease.

After breakfast, just before heading out, Elodie sent Jarrod a message: [Let me know when you're done, or just send me the photo when you can.]

That was all she cared about at the moment.

Still, she couldn't help but wonder, with him barely recovered himself, why he was rushing off to work so soon.

When she stepped outside, she realized her car wasn't there. But today, a driver was waiting at the door. As soon as he saw her, he stepped forward. "Where to, ma'am? I'll take you."

Normally, there wasn't a driver stationed at the house.

Elodie understood-Jarrod must have guessed she'd have business today and

arranged it in advance.

It saved her the trouble, at least. She gave the address and climbed in.

Jarrod arrived at The Silverstein Group's headquarters.

Word of his return had already spread through the office. The atmosphere was

tense; people couldn't help but feel on edge.