How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 91

When Elodie called, it took her grandmother a long time to pick up.

It was only just past eight. Her grandmother had always been a bit of a night owl, fond of binge-watching dramas and scrolling through videos—never one to go to bed early.

So Elodie tried the house line instead.

One of the housekeepers answered. "Mrs. Silverstein, your grandmother hasn't been feeling well these past couple of days. She's resting now—she barely touched her dinner."

A flicker of worry crept into Elodie's voice. "What happened? Is it her blood pressure again?"

"The family doctor stopped by. He said she caught a chill, and her blood pressure's been unstable. Mrs. Silverstein, if you have time, could you come home today? We've tried to talk to her, but she won't really listen to us..."

Elodie hesitated.

She couldn't just pretend nothing was wrong now that she knew her grandmother was ill. Besides, her grandmother had always been so good to her. For both emotional and moral reasons, she ought to visit.

"I'll come over right away."

She gathered her things and set out for Silverstein Mansion.

She'd originally wanted to ask if Jarrod had come home, but now she'd have to go back and check herself.

When she arrived at the mansion, a housekeeper greeted her at the door with a pair of slippers. Elodie slipped them on and glanced into the living room, where her grandmother was lying on the sofa. The moment she heard Elodie enter, she sat up with a bright smile. "Look who's home! They told me you were coming, so I got out here to wait for you. Just got off work, sweetheart?"

Elodie relaxed a little when she saw her grandmother's color looked decent. "Grandma, are you feeling any better? I heard you haven't wanted to eat at all."

Her grandmother squeezed her hand, eyes warm. "Oh, don't worry about me. Just the usual aches and pains of old age. Missing a couple of meals is just a little cleanse for the system."

Elodie frowned gently. "That's no good. Tell you what—what would you like to eat? I'll make it for you."

"Really?" Her grandmother's face lit up. "How about some oatmeal? You always make it taste the best."

Elodie smiled. "Alright, give me a few minutes."

She'd spent months honing her cooking skills for Jarrod, perfecting homestyle recipes, especially soups and porridges. Her grandmother had tasted her oatmeal before and never stopped raving about it, often craving that familiar warmth.

Elodie headed into the kitchen with practiced ease. Ever since she'd started working at VistaLink Technologies, she hardly ever cooked anymore. She no longer had to rush home on her lunch break to whip up meals for Jarrod, which was a relief in some ways.

But as soon as she finished preparing the oatmeal and brought it to the table, the sound of a car horn cut through the quiet.