How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 270

Elodie returned home.

She unpacked everything from her bag, laying it all out on the table.

Sitting right on top was the share transfer agreement for Nexus Analytics.

Jarrod had always been generous when it came to this sort of thing. With a contract like this, she’d be earning millions in dividends every year. Even if she decided to do nothing but indulge herself for the rest of her life, she’d never have to worry about money.

He’d suddenly handed over shares in Nexus Analytics to her.

Elodie just chalked it up to him wanting to give her a bit more compensation.

She put all the paperwork neatly into the cabinet, then picked up her divorce certificate and snapped a photo of it before opening the drawer to put it away.

But then her eyes landed on a small keepsake inside.

It was a fertility charm, given to her and Jarrod at her great-aunt’s grandson’s christening. She’d tucked it away and forgotten about it.

Her fingers brushed over it. The lightness she’d felt after the divorce now gave way to a strange, bittersweet ache.

Almost unconsciously, she rested her hand on her abdomen.

In two months, she’d be undergoing a total hysterectomy—after that, she’d never have the chance to have a child.

It was a fact she’d come to accept. There was no choice.

Elodie stared at the little charm for a long time.

Finally, she traced it gently with her fingers, then placed both the divorce certificate and the charm back into the drawer.

She supposed it would serve as a kind of memento.

She messaged her friends’ group chat, letting them know the divorce was official.

Esmeralda was the most exuberant, flooding the chat with a string of celebratory messages.

Alexander, ever the peacekeeper, waited until the commotion died down before adding, “Drinks on me tonight—to celebrate your escape from purgatory.”

Elodie smiled.

She replied with a simple “Sounds good,” then lay down to rest for a bit.

Soon enough, it was time to go.

With some effort, Elodie got up and headed to the café Joseph had chosen.

He’d texted her the address: “No rush, take your time. He’s a good guy—just chat, see how you feel about him.”