How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 822

The revelation about the child came out of nowhere—Elodie hadn’t seen it coming at all.

Just the thought that her child, the one she’d never even met, might be in danger sent a stabbing pain through her chest. That was her only child—the one and only in her entire life. Her precious treasure, the miracle she’d carried in her heart for so long. She couldn’t tolerate even the slightest threat.

Watts knew exactly how to strike where it would hurt most. He’d gone straight for her weakest point, without mercy.

He could see her wavering, see the way her composure crumbled at the mention of the child. The way she cared so fiercely for Jarrod had always bothered him—it reflected a loyalty that wasn’t his to claim, and that stoked something dark and unpleasant inside of him.

He hated women whose hearts were occupied with someone else.

But Elodie… Elodie, he could make an exception for her. Right now, whatever instincts or obsessions he had about her outweighed his distaste for sharing a woman’s affections.

Watts stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles on his shirt left by Elodie’s desperate grip. “Good. I’m glad you’ve come around. We leave tomorrow—at the latest. Pack what you need,” he said, his voice cool and businesslike. Then he turned and walked out, leaving her staring at the window, her back rigid.

Elodie didn’t look after him. Her head felt like it was splitting open from the pressure—too many things weighing on her mind at once. She had no idea if Jarrod was even alive, let alone safe. She’d never intended to just sit here and wait for the worst, but now Watts was holding her child over her head like a threat.

She forced herself to take a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves. All she could do was pray, over and over, that Jarrod would make it through this unharmed. After everything they’d been through, after all their struggles, it couldn’t just end like this.

Her mind whirled. After a long time, she finally took out the phone she’d hidden away and tried again and again to find a signal.

Just then, footsteps sounded outside the door. Elodie quickly shoved the phone under her pillow.

It was already midday.

A housekeeper brought in her lunch—a plate of bland soup and bread. Elodie didn’t even glance at it. She couldn’t eat, and she didn’t have the energy to say a single word.

The housekeeper, whose English was decent, spoke softly: “Mr. Aldridge says you can come out for some fresh air, if you’d like.”

Elodie didn’t respond. The housekeeper left the tray and quietly exited.

Rubbing her aching temples, Elodie realized Watts must already be making arrangements for the flight. She needed to find a way—any way—to get out from under his control.

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