How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 323

For a split second, you could have heard a pin drop in the vast conference room.

Sylvie’s usually gentle face registered a flash of shock before she met Elodie’s gaze—calm, cold, and unyielding. There was no room left for negotiation.

It was a long, heavy silence.

At last, Sylvie’s expression softened.

She had been right about Elodie’s character, after all.

Even at a critical project meeting, Elodie couldn’t resist dragging in personal grievances, resorting to these pitiful little tricks to defend her so-called dignity.

Sylvie leaned back in her chair, deciding she wouldn’t dignify it with a response.

Suddenly, the whole scene struck her as faintly tragic: Elodie, so starved for affection, lashing out in all the wrong places. What was the point in arguing further, really?

Just then, Elodie’s icy gaze locked with the man standing in the doorway, his dark eyes steady and inscrutable. He was watching her, thoughts impossible to read.

Jarrod stood there, Alexander just behind him.

Of all times, Elodie hadn’t expected Jarrod to walk in and witness this moment—nothing hidden, nothing spared.

Her expression stayed cool as frost as she met his eyes, refusing to look away. Whatever he thought of her, she didn’t care.

Unless Jarrod was about to leap to Sylvie’s defense and confront her right here and now, tearing away the last pretense between them, there was really nothing he could do—even if he disapproved, it made no difference.

Alexander’s face was hard to read, but there was a glint of amusement; clearly, he’d caught every word of Elodie’s bold pronouncement.

His little firebrand had grown some thorns. Anyone who crossed her these days could expect to get pricked—badly.

If it weren’t so inappropriate, he’d have applauded her right then and there.

“So, what’s going on in here?” Alexander breezed in, feigning ignorance as he pushed open the door and gestured for Jarrod to follow. “Mr. Silverstein, why don’t you come join us?”

Jarrod’s expression was inscrutable as his gaze finally slid away from Elodie. Sylvie turned to look at him, a complicated mix of resignation and composure on her face, but in the end, she said nothing about what had just happened.

Instead, she simply asked, “Jarrod, would you sit with me?”