How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Lucinda's face froze in shock, her usually cool and striking features unraveling

into unguarded disbelief. For a long moment, she seemed at a loss for words.

Then her expression hardened, incredulity replacing confusion as she fixed Jarrod

with a stare. "Do you even hear yourself? All this over a woman? Is it really worth

it-"

"When Dad had other women, you certainly didn't react like this."

Jarrod's words cut in, leaving no room for doubt.

Back then, he'd been caught in the crossfire of their bitter relationship more times

than he could count.

He wasn't even ten when Lucinda and his father started fighting in earnest. But

both families cared deeply about appearances and reputation-their marriage

was a show of unity, so in public they played the part of a loving couple, while in

private their arguments were explosive and relentless.

He remembered thinking how exhausting it all was.

Neither of them cared about anyone but themselves, whittling away at each other,

day after day, year after year.

Jarrod knew Lucinda had suffered her share of heartbreak in marriage. But he

couldn't accept that she would knowingly hurt Elodie, standing so firm and

righteous-even though she herself had once been in such a position. Any

compassion she might have had was now locked away, unreachable.

"Jarrod!" Lucinda's voice trembled with anger, her beautiful face quivering.

Clearly, he'd struck a nerve that exposed all the rot she'd tried to hide.

He didn't want to keep arguing. The pain of the day was already pressing down on

him, suffocating. He glanced at her, his tone quiet but unyielding. "My mind's

made up. I'd appreciate it if you stayed out of my business. But even if you don't,

it won't matter."

Turning away, Jarrod called down to the driver to wait outside and take Lucinda

home when she was ready.

He didn't say another word to her.

When Jarrod stepped back into the room, Elodie was already awake. She sat

quietly in bed, responding to messages on her phone.

She looked up when she heard him come in.

Jarrod acted as if nothing had happened-as if Lucinda had never even been

there.

He walked over and gently touched Elodie's forehead.

When she'd first come to the hospital, she'd been running a fever, but now she

seemed much better.

"Do you want to talk to me about

what you're going through?" Jarrod's

voice was low, weighted with

concern. No matter how heavy his

heart felt, he needed to understand

everything-inside and out-about

Elodie's condition.

Elodie was still replaying what Jarrod had said to Lucinda. It left her shaken.

After all, her illness was obvious to anyone. Jarrod was willing to go against the

entire Silverstein family because of her?

"I've already had a few rounds of

chemo," she said quietly, her tone

matter-of-fact. "I've been lucky; I

haven't lost my hair. Other than that,

there's not much to say. Every

morning I wake up to a handful of

pills, and the

combination really

does a number on my stomach."noveldrama

She spoke evenly, without a trace of self-pity, as if describing someone else's life,

not her own.

But every word hit Jarrod like a knife to the heart.

He sat at the edge of the bed, staring at the IV in her hand. She couldn't quite

read the expression in his eyes, but she could feel the weight of his emotion.

Suddenly, Elodie felt a little lost in the face of his reaction-she'd never expected

Jarrod to care this much. "I overheard your conversation with your mother just

now," she confessed softly.

Jarrod's gaze faltered for a moment and then settled on her.

"I'm just being honest," Elodie

continued. "No one can guarantee

what will happen to me. Lately, it's

felt like I'm racing against death-

started doing things I'd always put

off, chased old dreams, went back

to the arena I loved and achieved

what I wanted. Other than the child I

never had, I don't have any real

regrets."