How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 733

She’d just graduated, yet already her name was known across the industry.

With talent like hers, was Jarrod blind?

“I’m telling you, steer clear of him for a while. You think Jarrod’s a pushover?” Watts came downstairs, rummaged in a drawer, and tossed a bottle of pills to Patricia.

Patricia gave a sharp laugh. “What really floors me is that Jarrod actually covered for Elodie, kept quiet about her getting rid of the baby, and even shielded her from the Silversteins. If he hadn’t, how else could Elodie have secured her place in that family?”

That was what really burned her.

She was supposed to be preparing for that international art exhibition—one of the biggest events of her career.

But thanks to all this Jarrod business, her head was a mess. She could barely pick up a brush lately, and that frustration was eating her alive.

She irritably scratched at her neck and shot Watts a look. “And you? Don’t tell me you’re getting too deep in this act. Jarrod and Elodie are working you over, screwing up your plans—what are you going to do about it?”

Watts paused, remembering the way Elodie had defended Jarrod that day. Her eyes went cold.

“I’m not like you,” she said quietly. “I can’t pretend to be with someone if they’ve got someone else in their heart.”

—

When Jarrod received the update about Patricia’s whereabouts, he’d just arrived outside Rosemary’s house.

He scanned the report, slipped his phone away, and headed inside.

Rosemary refused to leave Elodie alone these days. She insisted Elodie not stay by herself, no matter what.

A housekeeper opened the door for him. Once he’d stepped in, she informed him, “Mrs. Rosemary is in the backyard. Miss Elodie is upstairs.”

He nodded his thanks and made his way up.

Elodie had just finished showering and was running a brush through her hair when her phone buzzed.

A number she didn’t recognize.

Still, old work habits died hard—she always answered unknown calls, just in case.

She was about to apply some hair oil, so she tapped speaker. “Hello, who’s this?”

“It’s Dad.” Malcom Harcourt’s voice was tense. “Elodie, do you have a moment?”

“No.”

She had no intention of reestablishing contact with Malcom and moved to hang up.

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