How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 72

"All right, take care on your way."

Elodie didn't bother to explain why she wasn't leaving with Jarrod.

She knew exactly where he was headed—straight to Sylvie.

There was no way he'd waste his precious time with Sylvie just to give her a ride home.

—

The next two days passed in silence.

Nothing from Sylvie, and Jarrod didn't reach out to Elodie, either.

She wasn't sure if this meant things were over, but with everything else demanding her attention, she found it impossible to feel at ease.

On Friday morning, Jarrod finally called. His tone was neutral, almost cold. "Octavia's had an allergic reaction again. She refuses to let the staff help and insists you were the only one who didn't make it hurt last time. Could you come take a look at her?"

Elodie pressed her lips together. "…Sure."

Octavia wasn't her responsibility. She could have said no.

But since Jarrod was asking, and this could be seen as a favor, she figured he'd have no reason to hold the gallery situation over her head anymore.

"That painting—"

"Jarrod, what do you think of this dress?" Sylvie's gentle voice floated through from his end of the line.

It was barely past nine in the morning—the busiest time of day—and he was out shopping with Sylvie?

The call disconnected abruptly.

Elodie was long used to being an afterthought.

She requested a day off and headed out to the Silverstein estate.

Octavia was pampered and sensitive, prone to allergic flare-ups at the slightest provocation. Her skin would break out in itchy, painful rashes, and she'd throw a fit at anyone who tried to treat her—doctor or staff alike.

But Elodie was careful, attentive. Over the past three years, she'd tended to Octavia more than a few times.

And Octavia had come to expect it.

Returning to the Silverstein mansion, Elodie felt a twinge of mixed emotion. She'd sworn to Jarrod she would never set foot here again, and yet, here she was, swallowing her pride because she had no choice.

He'd probably think she was pathetic.

The housekeeper met her at the door, offering her a pair of slippers.

Even Jarrod's grandmother came over to warm Elodie's hands. "She's upstairs, making a fuss. Only you seem to know how to handle that girl."