How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 7

The next morning, the housekeeper arrived with Jarrod's younger sister, Octavia.

The girl had just turned seventeen, all long limbs and bright eyes. As soon as she walked in, she tossed her purse onto the couch without a care.

"Where's Elodie Thorne?" Octavia blinked at Jarrod, feigning innocence.

Jarrod finished knotting his tie and glanced her way. "Is that how you address people?"

Octavia pouted. "You don't even like her, so why should I call her my sister-in-law?"

Their mother had said it often enough—Elodie had married up, clinging to the Silverstein family, and ought to devote herself entirely to them. There was a word for that, wasn't there?

A glorified housekeeper?

Jarrod shot her a cold, knowing look. "Alright, out with it. What's your scheme this time?"

Octavia's eyes sparkled. "Aren't you busy today, big brother?"

"And if I am?"

"Mom's at a fashion show, Dad's out of the country, and Grandma's not well enough to come to my parent-teacher meeting." Octavia swung her legs, putting on her best pleading voice. "So let Elodie go. She eats your food, spends your money, and does nothing all day. She's got all the time in the world."

Jarrod hesitated. "You can ask her yourself."

Octavia huffed, but grinned. "She's desperate to win your approval, so she's always extra nice to me. She's the type people warn you about online—calculating, always putting on a show. Just let her know, she won't dare refuse."

Lately, Octavia had become obsessed with watching Sylvie's lectures on aerospace engineering from abroad, and her grades had slipped. She had no intention of letting her mother or brother hear about it from her teachers. Elodie, on the other hand, didn't matter; a scolding or two from the teachers wouldn't hurt her—and she'd never complain to Jarrod or their mother.

Jarrod seemed to mull it over, then shrugged on his coat and headed for the door. "Fine. I'll clear it with her."

_

Elodie woke up with a pounding headache and a low fever. These days, her body seemed to rebel at the slightest provocation; her immune system just didn't work the way it used to.

She'd already called in sick the day before, and today she meant to go to the hospital to consult her doctor about a new treatment plan.

By the time she reached the hospital lobby, her legs felt like jelly. She barely made it a few steps before her vision blurred and the floor rushed up to meet her.

"Elodie!"

A woman's voice shouted her name.