How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 103

Elodie's expression shifted, just a flicker, but enough for Sylvie to notice.

She glanced at Sylvie in disbelief, but Sylvie merely returned her gaze with a graceful, composed smile—cool, self-assured, and unmistakably proud. There wasn't a hint of pretense in her manner.

Grady's brows drew together as he turned to Elodie. "Ms. Thorne, did you check the artist's signature? Every piece displayed in the Warwick Gallery is a genuine work of art. There's really no need to force this cultured persona, Ms. Thorne. Better that than making yourself a laughingstock."

No one could miss the implication in his words.

He was openly accusing Elodie of trying to ride on someone else's coattails, pretending a connection to Sylvie's mother and claiming the honor as her own.

Sylvie understood Grady's meaning too. He was suggesting that Elodie's vanity had gotten the better of her.

And, truth be told, Sylvie didn't disagree.

She didn't call Elodie out directly, though. Instead, she spoke gently, her tone almost soothing. "This was the first painting my mother sold before she moved abroad. I never expected to see it here, but…" She turned to Elodie, her lips curving in a polite, unhurried smile. "I must thank you for your good taste, Ms. Thorne."

Elodie was at a loss—she simply couldn't believe it. The odds of such a coincidence were impossible. Her mother's painting had gone missing years ago, and now, by some miracle, a piece by Selma appeared here, fetching a high price. It just didn't add up.

If her suspicions were right, Selma's painting might be linked to the scandal that had marred her mother's graduation project all those years ago.

But Elodie quickly regained her composure. After all, Selma had only been able to break into elite circles and win the admiration of wealthy patrons—eventually earning her green card—thanks to her mother's support. Selma had climbed to the top, collecting one honor after another, all by stepping on her mother.

Elodie knew better than to make a scene. There was no point in arguing, especially when the painting so clearly bore Selma's signature.

She recovered fast, her voice calm and measured. "I truly admire this piece. Would you help me get in touch with Mr. Warwick? I'm willing to pay handsomely for it."

After all, this painting was evidence—a clue she needed to uncover the truth.

"I'll be taking this painting," Sylvie interjected coolly.

Her tone was assertive, completely disregarding Elodie's earlier request.

Elodie turned to look at her.

Sylvie met her gaze, her words gentle but her eyes dismissive. "I'm sorry, but this painting means a great deal to my mother. I'd like to return it to her."