How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 672

At the mention of Jarrod Silverstein’s name, Elodie Thorne lowered her gaze, lost in thought for a few moments.

The call with Esmeralda Mercer had already dropped—her signal unreliable as usual.

In the main hall, Esmeralda caught sight of Jarrod, drawing the attention of several people nearby.

Patricia Aldridge arrived at almost the same time as Jarrod. After exchanging a few pleasantries with others, she made her way straight over.

Jarrod ignored everyone else, focusing solely on Esmeralda. “Where’s Elodie?”

Esmeralda could only shrug; she had no idea.

A nearby waiter, suddenly recalling something as he spotted Jarrod and Esmeralda, pointed toward the left corridor. “Are you looking for Ms. Thorne? She went to the lounge—room 3007.”

Jarrod glanced in the direction the waiter indicated.

Patricia approached, her tone brisk. “Mr. Silverstein, Ms. Mercer—haven’t seen Ms. Thorne or Mr. Sterling. Where are they?”

But Jarrod was already striding toward the lounge, not sparing anyone else so much as a glance. Right now, confirming Elodie’s pregnancy was all that mattered to him. Everything else could wait.

The waiter, as if suddenly recalling something important, called after him, “Wait, Mr. Silverstein—perhaps let me fetch her for you?”

Only then did Jarrod spare the man a glance.

Esmeralda, noticing the odd look on the waiter’s face, frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Patricia tilted her head, eyeing the waiter with interest.

He hesitated, then said, “Ms. Thorne might be busy. She’s meeting with Mr. Harcourt from TerraGreen Solutions.”

That single sentence sent a chill through the air.

Esmeralda’s expression turned cold. “And? They’re siblings, aren’t they? There’s nothing scandalous about that. No need for you to play messenger.”

Still, something felt off. Elodie had no reason to be alone with Ivan Harcourt—especially not with this waiter making a point to mention it in front of Jarrod, and with so many people within earshot. It reeked of a setup.

Esmeralda, unable to overhear their conversation, hurried ahead of Jarrod, hoping to warn Elodie first.

But just as they reached the lounge, the door swung open.

Jarrod’s steps slowed, then came to a stop.

Elodie was standing in the doorway, and behind her was Ivan Harcourt, freshly changed, tossing a shirt into the washroom and straightening his tie. The whole scene carried an odd, ambiguous air.

Ivan met Jarrod’s gaze with a sudden, easy smile. “Mr. Silverstein? Didn’t expect to see you here. Don’t get the wrong idea—nothing happened.”

If anything, that only made things sound more suspicious.

Elodie shot Ivan a frosty look—he wasn’t helping in the slightest.

Jarrod barely spared Ivan a glance before focusing on Elodie, stepping to her side. “I might not know Mr. Harcourt well,” he said calmly, “but I know my wife better than anyone. There’s no need for pointless jokes, Mr. Harcourt.”

Ivan’s smile faded, just a little.