How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 13

Sylvie had just earned her drone license, and she piloted the thing with effortless skill.

Every swoop and loop she pulled from the sky brought another burst of applause.

Talented, poised, completely self-assured.

No wonder, really.

It was easy to see how Jarrod could fall for her at first sight.

A woman like Sylvie—she had everything it took to turn heads and draw men in.

Elodie had to admit, even from a neutral perspective, that Sylvie was magnetic. She was gentle, confident, and composed—raised with every advantage, smart and ambitious, and beautiful to boot.

Wherever she went, the spotlight followed.

But…

Everything Sylvie had was stolen.

Her mother and Elodie's mother had once been friends. Sylvie's mom had grown up with little, and Elodie's mother had stepped in—paying her college tuition, helping her get into grad school.

But in the end…

Sylvie's mother plagiarized Elodie's mother's work.

She'd taken the research, put her own name on it, and climbed the social ladder over Elodie's mother's broken back. After landing herself a wealthy husband abroad, she disappeared—pregnant, and with everything that should have belonged to Elodie's family.

Now Sylvie was glamorous, untouchable. She didn't have to lift a finger, and everything she wanted just fell into her lap.

A cold edge crept into Elodie's eyes. It was almost laughable.

Sylvie's performance was flawless, and as soon as she left the stage, a swarm of reporters surged forward, desperate for a soundbite from her and Jarrod.

Elodie was stuck in the middle of the crowd, jostled several times as the reporters barreled past without a second glance.

Someone as insignificant as her didn't even have the chance to dodge. She stumbled, pain flaring in her ankle, but managed to steady herself.

A reporter's question drifted over the noise: "There's a real spark between you two! Are we going to hear some good news soon?"

Elodie looked up.

Jarrod had pulled Sylvie into the crook of his arm, shielding her from the press. His expression was cold, his presence enough to make the journalists hesitate. "Please, don't touch her," he said, voice low and commanding.

The female reporters giggled and exchanged glances.

"Mr. Silverstein, you treat Ms. Fielding so well! Are you two getting married? You're absolutely perfect together!"

Elodie thought she caught Jarrod's gaze flicker her way for the briefest moment.