How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 669

She didn’t feel certain, not really.

If Elodie was planning to end the pregnancy but hadn’t told Mr. Silverstein, then something was definitely off.

Patricia couldn’t risk giving Elodie another chance to sway Ivan’s heart.

She needed a foolproof plan—one that left nothing to chance.

But then, just a single sentence changed everything.

Patricia’s head snapped up. For a moment, she couldn’t hide the shock on her face.

Elodie... was pregnant with Jarrod’s child?!

They’d been married for years and never had any children; sometimes Patricia had even forgotten about it entirely. Now, having it thrown in her face, alarms started screaming in her mind.

Queenie and Reba didn’t notice Patricia’s fleeting reaction.

Reba, in fact, felt a weight lift from her shoulders. More often than not, her thoughts aligned with Queenie’s.

She was about to ask something, but Patricia had already risen to her feet, her expression cool and distant. “Something just came to mind—I won’t intrude any longer today.”

Reba blinked in surprise. She’d been hoping to win Patricia over; having someone like her in her corner would be a huge advantage.

“That’s a shame. Let me walk you out, then. Next time, perhaps.”

Patricia didn’t bother with pleasantries. Still radiating that unapproachable aura, she turned and left, her heels clicking briskly down the hall.

Coming to the Harcourt family home today could be considered a favor on her part. She never expected to walk away with such explosive news.

—

It was late by the time Elodie left the hospital.

She’d already made the appointment with her doctor—next Saturday.

Just rip off the bandage. No more dragging this out, no more letting sentiment sway her. The sooner this was over, the better.

She wasn’t about to risk her own life for this child. She had no real choice: she needed the procedure in order to treat her illness.

The quieter she handled it, the better for everyone involved. No one else’s life would have to change because of this.

When she returned to her apartment complex, dusk was settling in.

As she stepped out of the elevator, she couldn’t help but glance toward Jarrod’s door.

He wasn’t home. Not yet, anyway.

Their “honest conversation” that afternoon had been anything but easy.

It was never simple to steel yourself before facing someone you once cared about.

It wasn’t easy, baring his soul to her the way he had. Elodie hadn’t given him any reaction at all—not even a single word of explanation.

He couldn’t help feeling unsettled.

So, he’d stayed at the office overnight.

He had a private suite there. After a quick shower, he buried himself in work.

Late morning—just past ten—he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Andrea walked in, tablet in hand, her expression grave. “Mr. Silverstein, you have an email you need to see.”

Jarrod lifted his gaze, lashes low and guarded. “What is it?”

She set the tablet in front of him.

He lowered his eyes.

Photos. Several of them.

Elodie—caught on camera, coming and going from the women’s clinic.

And underneath, a single line of text:

Congratulations, Mr. Silverstein. You’re going to be a father.