How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 811

He’d tried to get in touch with Esmeralda along the way.

There was one call that actually went through.

From patchy updates, he learned Elodie wasn’t with Esmeralda—she’d somehow become separated. Worse, he hadn’t even managed to contact anyone else from Elodie’s group.

None of this boded well.

The uncertainty left Jarrod on edge, every nerve stretched taut.

Ahead, the sky glowed with the flicker of fire.

The security team he’d hired was already fanning out, searching for her.

Elodie, with her striking Asian features and undeniable beauty, would surely stand out in any crowd—easy to spot, but that also made her a target.

Jarrod’s expression was grim. This was supposed to be a safe zone, but chaos had erupted out of nowhere. No one could have predicted this.

Careful to avoid the broken rubble underfoot, he strode forward, eyes flicking constantly to his phone for updates.

There were countless places around the world plagued by hardship. Jarrod didn’t have time to worry about strangers’ struggles—right now, all he cared about was finding Elodie, and fast.

She’d always been frail, unable to withstand hardship or exposure. The thought of her out there, vulnerable, was unbearable.

Bang!

A shot rang out behind him, whistling dangerously close.

His bodyguard reacted instantly, grabbing Jarrod and pulling him into cover at lightning speed.

Jarrod scowled, ducking low into the shadows.

He peered out, scanning the distance.

Several vehicles came into view, equipped with high-end gear, flanking a center car. Whoever had fired that shot had meant business—they were coming for him.

“Mr. Silverstein, looks like they’re searching for someone,” his bodyguard said in a tense whisper. “Specifically, they seem to be looking for someone with Asian features.”

Jarrod’s eyes narrowed, a chill settling over his face.

“Can you make out who they are?” he asked quietly.

The bodyguard—an old hand with far too many gray-area contacts—leaned against the wall, peering through the gloom. “That insignia… Quinn?”

Jarrod’s eyes slowly narrowed at the name.

Quinn. How could he not recognize it?

Back then, he’d had every generation of the Fielding family investigated, leaving no secrets unturned.

He’d kept meticulous tabs on everyone they’d ever dealt with.

He knew that Sylvie and her daughter had once been connected to the Quinn family in Italy.

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