How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 716

Esmeralda Mercer’s words landed like a thunderclap, shattering the tension that had only just begun to settle in the room.

Jarrod Silverstein spun around, his dark eyes locking onto Elodie Thorne’s pale, drawn face. For a split second, he wondered if he’d misheard her.

A stunned silence followed, everyone reeling from the sudden revelation.

Rosemary and Emile jumped to their feet, panic etched across their faces. “What are you saying? What’s wrong with Elodie?” Rosemary demanded, her voice trembling.

Esmeralda’s eyes brimmed with tears as she glared fiercely at the Silverstein family and then shot a cold look at Patricia Aldridge, who stood nearby with a frown.

“Elodie hasn’t wronged anyone! The Silversteins shouldn’t act like they’re her saviors, as if marrying her was some great sacrifice. If it weren’t for you, maybe she wouldn’t be in this state at all…”

“Esme, enough!” Alexander Sterling, quick to react, strode over and wrapped an arm firmly around Esmeralda’s waist, all but dragging her away from the fray.

Esmeralda was practically shaking with anger—especially after Lucinda Howard’s cutting interrogation moments before. She wanted nothing more than to shout in Lucinda’s face, to call her cold and cruel for what she’d said.

Alexander kept his voice low, meant only for Esmeralda and Elodie. “This isn’t the place for this, Esme. Not in front of everyone. These are Elodie’s private matters—no need to rip open old wounds.”

His words cut through her fury, and Esmeralda’s composure returned in an instant. She darted a worried glance at Elodie.

Suddenly, Elodie found herself the focus of a dozen questioning eyes. That familiar wave of dread—like she was living on borrowed time—washed over her.

She drew a shaky breath. Pain flickered deep in her chest, her face going ashen, a bead of cold sweat forming at her hairline.

The old lady took a steadying breath, her voice decisive. “It’s okay. The party hasn’t started yet. Let’s move to the lounge and sit for a while.”

It was still early—the celebration wasn’t due to begin until noon. And besides, Patricia’s accusation about “getting rid of the baby” needed to be addressed once and for all.

Patricia, watching as the uproar suddenly subsided, was no longer curious about what came next. She had already achieved what she set out to do. Elodie “losing” the Silverstein family’s child—there was no way they would ever forgive her for that. As for Esmeralda’s talk of illness? Clearly just another excuse to shield Elodie from blame.

Patricia smirked, shot a smug glance at Elodie’s ashen face, and quietly slipped out of the room.

Jarrod felt as if something sharp was scraping at his chest, an unfamiliar terror clawing at him. At a loss for words, he gripped Elodie’s wrist tightly, as though the warmth of her skin was the only thing anchoring him to reality.

Lucinda, though unsure of the exact details, knew this was not the kind of scandal to be aired in public. Her expression turned grim as she quietly instructed the staff to look after the guests.