How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 15

"No need. I'm leaving," Elodie said, her patience worn thin. She had no interest in sticking around and being a third wheel.

But as she turned to go, a warm hand closed firmly around her wrist. Jarrod's gaze was cool, almost indifferent. "You stay. I'll switch rooms."

Elodie frowned, about to wrench free, but Jarrod released her first, deliberately widening the distance between them. "If you leave now, it'll be hard to explain things to my grandmother."

So that's what this was about. Elodie stared at him, incredulous. "You want me to cover for you with Sylvie? Make it easier to lie to your grandmother?"

What exactly did he take her for?

Jarrod met her eyes, adjusting his cufflinks with practiced calm. "If you hadn't come, none of this trouble would've happened."

A tight knot formed in Elodie's chest. So it was her fault, then?

Pressing her lips together, she forced herself to stay composed. "Fine. But you approve my resignation—immediately."

Jarrod's dark eyes narrowed slightly, a faint, ambiguous smirk touching his lips. "That's acceptable."

Elodie couldn't make sense of that smile.

She turned and walked straight back to her room.

No wonder Jarrod hadn't told her about coming to Mount Serene—he'd brought Sylvie here for a romantic getaway. If she'd known, she never would have come.

Rubbing her brow, Elodie tried to shake off the annoyance. She told herself she didn't care anymore, but the sting remained.

She busied herself, tidying her suitcase and checking out the guesthouse's amenities. There was a riding stable, and guests could go horseback riding with a guide. It sounded like a decent distraction.

Elodie headed straight for the stables.

She had barely arrived when she heard a woman's playful voice, "Ivan! Stop nudging me! Are you trying to be fresh or something?"

A man's lazy, teasing reply drifted over. "Blame the horse, not me."

Elodie stopped in her tracks.

She looked up, dazed. A man and woman shared a horse, the man's arm around her waist, one hand holding the reins, the other tilting her chin up for a kiss.

Her stare must have been too obvious. Ivan glanced over, his gaze darkening, a frown flickering across his face as if their romantic moment had been rudely interrupted.

Elodie's pride stung. For over a decade, Ivan had protected her, treated her as someone precious, never once saying a harsh word. He'd been her first love, the one who'd given her years of gentle affection.

Three years ago, when Ivan got into trouble, she'd agreed to marry Jarrod in exchange for Malcom's promise to reduce Ivan's sentence. Even if she'd moved on, Ivan was still family—her most important person. Now, he couldn't even muster basic courtesy; his indifference cut deeper than she cared to admit.