How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 162

Even though she said all the right things, her eyes never left Elodie, making her intentions perfectly clear—she wanted Elodie to step aside.

Esmeralda wasn't having any of it. She frowned and stood up, arms crossed. "Ms. Jett, if you have something to say, why not just come out with it?"

It couldn't be more obvious—they were all determined to prop up Sylvie. And why? Wasn't it just because Sylvie had Jarrod's backing? If not for him, she'd be nothing but the other woman. What was so special about her?

Queenie hadn't expected Esmeralda to be so blunt and unyielding. For a moment, she looked displeased.

Maurice, biting into an apple, chuckled. "Come on, Ms. Thorne, is it really worth it? Sylvie likes that ring, and suddenly you want it too. She wants to play the piano, and next thing we know, you're signing up for lessons?"

As far as he was concerned, Elodie must have only chosen to perform on the piano after learning Sylvie would be doing the same. It was as if she was determined to go head-to-head with her; as if she was dying to steal Sylvie's spotlight—just to catch Jarrod's attention.

Grady frowned too, thinking Elodie was in way over her head. "Do you even know what Ms. Fielding is capable of? She got her advanced certificate last year and even won an award in competition. This isn't some kids' music class where you can get by playing ‘Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.'"

If she had any sense, she'd back down now.

At that moment, Jarrod cast a glance across the room—cool, unreadable.

Elodie wasn't sure what to make of it. He looked every bit the detached aristocrat, as if none of this mattered to him. But there was something in his eyes—a hint of amusement, maybe even mockery.

It was the look a husband gives when he's quietly entertained.

Elodie pressed her lips together.

Esmeralda let out a short, sharp laugh, arms still folded. "So she's the only one who can earn an advanced certificate, and no one else? Elodie passed hers at twelve. She's a natural—has any of you seen real talent before?"

Her words hung in the air.

Only then did Sylvie let out a soft, unhurried laugh, her composure unshaken. She looked Elodie up and down, as if sizing her up.

Elodie? Certified at twelve? How come she'd never heard of it? If Elodie was so good, why had she never shown it? Was it because she didn't want to—or because she just couldn't?

It wasn't just Sylvie doubting. Maurice and Grady were both shaking their heads, amused.