How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 717

They arranged for a private lounge.

The main party slipped away quietly, as if choreographed.

Today, no matter what, everything had to be laid bare.

Esmeralda watched the scene unfold, hastily wiping the corner of her eye before pulling free from Alexander’s grasp. “I’m going too.”

It was obvious—this was a trial for Elodie.

This time, Alexander didn’t try to stop her. Since they’d already decided to make a clean break, there was no point in pretending this was merely “family business behind closed doors.” At this point, who did Elodie truly have left on her side? Only he and Esmeralda could still stand up for her.

Jarrod held tightly to Elodie’s wrist, silent. She could feel how cold his fingers were.

As they left, Maurice Nilsson and his companions noticed, casting curious glances from afar.

Before they could process what was happening, Ivan Harcourt arrived.

He knew Elodie would be here today and had come to check in. Spotting Maurice, he strode over. “Mr. Nilsson, are Mr. Silverstein and Elodie not here?”

Maurice glanced at him and nodded toward the lounge. “They just went that way. Not sure what’s going on.”

Ivan looked in the indicated direction. He hadn’t told Queenie Jett about today; he’d hoped to clear up these messy affairs first, then have a proper conversation with Elodie…

Inside the lounge, the tension thickened as everyone’s gaze settled on Elodie.

Several voices broke the silence at once.

“Tell your grandmother—what’s going on with your health?”

“You need to explain about the baby, don’t you?” Lucinda pressed.

Jarrod, watching her, saw how she clenched her fists, how her posture remained ramrod straight, as if nothing in the world could ever break her.

He was the first to notice the flush in her eyes, the calm overlaying her pain.

A sense of dread rose in his throat, tightening his chest.

And then, just as he feared, Elodie looked straight at Rosemary and Emile. She spoke with the vulnerability of a child forced to pretend nothing was wrong. “I… I’ve had cancer. For a long time.”

The moment her words fell, the room went utterly silent.

It was as if Jarrod had been struck by lightning. The usual cool detachment on his face turned to stone; every trace of color vanished.

It felt like a thousand needles piercing him at once—pain so immediate and overwhelming it left him breathless, his heart threatening to stop.

His ears rang. His world narrowed to a single, desperate hope: that he had somehow misheard her.