How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 130

Elodie tilted her head, meeting Sylvie's gaze with practiced indifference.

Sylvie stood tall, her slender neck accentuated by the heels she wore. Even though her posture was poised and elegant, there was no mistaking the cold pride in her eyes.

Everyone knew about Elodie's connection to Jarrod.

And yet, Sylvie always addressed her as "Ms. Thorne," never anything more.

As for Sylvie's earlier remark...

Was she simply stating that the seat beside Jarrod was Elodie's, or was she pointedly implying that Elodie was taking the place of Mrs. Silverstein?

Either way, the underlying message was unmistakable—a certain brand of arrogant provocation.

Elodie didn't much care what Sylvie was really thinking, but she certainly didn't have the patience to let Sylvie keep prodding her with these veiled little jabs.

"No need to worry, Ms. Fielding," Elodie replied coolly. "I have no interest in fighting you for it."

Her tone was mild, but her stance was clear.

Fighting? Worrying? Sylvie disliked those words intensely.

She had never felt threatened by Elodie, and besides, even if Elodie wanted to compete, she'd have to be truly qualified to be in the running.

Sylvie allowed herself a subtle, icy smile, then slid into the car without closing the door. She leaned toward Jarrod, eyes drifting to the open laptop on his lap.

Jarrod flicked his eyes up, giving Elodie a thoughtful, inscrutable look.

Elodie had no idea what that glance was supposed to mean, nor did she care to find out.

But she did notice that, this time, Jarrod made no attempt to shield his laptop's meeting notes from Sylvie's view. He was clearly comfortable with her seeing them—unlike earlier, when he'd been careful to keep the details from Elodie.

Elodie turned away, her expression unreadable, her mood unruffled.