How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 132

Elodie walked to the entrance and sat on the stone steps for a moment to catch her breath.

The specialist the doctor mentioned had no set return date. Besides, if this expert was as renowned as they claimed, getting an appointment wouldn't be easy.

If only she had some way to contact him directly—maybe she could buy her uncle some precious time.

"Ms. Thorne?"

Elodie looked up.

Joseph was approaching, studying her with a concerned gaze. He noticed how pale she still looked and was reminded of the last time he'd rushed her to the hospital.

"Are you feeling unwell again?" he asked, lips pressed in a tight line.

Elodie drifted for a second, then shook her head. "No, I'm fine."

Her answer was a little curt, so she tried to soften it, asking politely, "You're here for…?"

Joseph lifted the pharmacy bag in his hand. "Freya's asthma medication. I come by to pick it up regularly."

Elodie nodded in understanding. Freya had struggled with asthma for years—her health had never been strong. Joseph, though, was a devoted brother, always looking out for her.

She and Joseph had never been close. Their past interactions were anything but friendly, leaving them with little to talk about now.

An awkward silence settled between them.

Joseph noticed it too and chose to break it. "So, what brings you to the hospital today?"

"I spoke with my uncle's doctor about treatment options," Elodie replied politely.

When Joseph first saw her sitting there, she seemed weighed down by worries. After a moment's hesitation, he asked, "Are you having trouble with something? Do you need… any help?"

Elodie glanced at him, eyes flickering with skepticism. Given Joseph's previous indifference toward her, she was surprised by his offer.

"No, it's nothing. I'm just trying to find a specialist for my uncle."

"What's his diagnosis?"

"A malignant tumor."

She lowered her eyes, visibly unsettled. With everything going on, she couldn't afford to fall apart.

Joseph looked uncertain, searching for words of comfort.

Then he fixed her with a steady look and said, "I know a leading doctor in that field. If you'd like, I can give you his contact information."

Elodie stared at him, genuinely taken aback.

There was a note of hesitation in her eyes, as if she didn't quite trust him.

Joseph caught her doubt. He pressed his lips together, pulled out his phone, and tapped a few times. A moment later, Elodie's phone buzzed.

"He's a friend of mine," Joseph explained. "He's been working abroad for years and is highly respected. Even if he can't treat your uncle himself, he has access to the best medical resources."

Elodie was silent, still processing the unexpected gesture.

A faint smile curved Joseph's lips.

The drive to VistaLink Technologies took about twenty minutes.

Elodie, exhausted after a sleepless night wracked with pain, leaned against the window, eyes closed, trying to rest. She made no effort at small talk.

Joseph glanced over and, noticing, quietly adjusted the air conditioning to a more comfortable setting.

When they arrived, Elodie opened her eyes right on cue. Joseph was already out of the car, coming around to open her door.

She didn't find it strange—boys from families like his were trained in etiquette; it was second nature to them.

"Thank you," she said, stepping out with her bag.

Maybe it was because she was still under the weather, but as soon as her feet touched the ground, a sharp cramp twisted through her lower abdomen. Elodie's face went white, her legs buckled, and she nearly collapsed.

Joseph reacted instantly, his hands catching her around the waist. Even through her cashmere coat, he could feel the delicate warmth of her body. For a split second, he froze, startled by the contact.

He looked down, about to ask if she was all right—

But heavy footsteps thundered behind them.

A cold, furious voice rang out: "What do you think you're doing?"

Joseph spun around.

He never saw the fist coming. It landed square on his jaw, sending him stumbling back a few steps.