How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 173

Jarrod didn't argue.

But Elodie had changed, in some subtle way, and he noticed.

Now, from across the room, he stared at her—watching every flicker of emotion on her face, searching for what was real.

The silence between them was broken by the shrill ring of his phone.

It was a call from the office.

He reached for it, meaning to answer right away, but hesitated, glancing at Elodie. "Do you mind if I take this?"

It was as if he needed her permission.

Elodie couldn't care less about his tone. Cold sweat broke out on her forehead as a sharp pain twisted through her abdomen—fierce and sudden. She nearly lost control. In the dim light, her lips went even paler, and her breath trembled as she managed a faint nod.

Jarrod turned aside to take the call.

A man's voice came through: "Mr. Silverstein, Ms. Fielding's been adjusting the data all day, but she can't get the tests right. She refuses to leave, hasn't eaten a thing. Honestly, it looks like she won't go home until it's finished…"

Jarrod frowned, just slightly.

Behind him, Elodie was drenched in sweat. She barely had the strength to reach her bag for her medication by the door. Summoning the last of her energy, she inched forward. "Jarrod…"

He seemed deep in conversation, his voice tense, and didn't hear her at all.

She didn't dare gamble with her body. Gritting her teeth, she reached out and grabbed at Jarrod's sleeve.

But the moment she touched him, Jarrod ended the call, spinning around to snatch his coat from the couch. His movements were abrupt and rushed. As he grabbed his coat, her hand was brushed aside, roughly, without a second thought.

He didn't notice her condition at all. He was already striding toward the door. "Something urgent's come up. Get some rest—don't wait up for me."

The door opened and closed.

Elodie, left behind, swayed a little from the force of being pushed aside. She looked toward the door.

Jarrod was gone, already out of sight.