How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 143

He'd always looked at her through tinted lenses.

But now…

Joseph found himself studying Elodie's expression again.

Her face was calm as frost, utterly devoid of emotion. The polite warmth she once showed them was gone, replaced by a chill that kept everyone at arm's length.

Elodie… wasn't the same.

"I'm staying with my grandmother," Elodie answered simply, not bothering to explain further.

Joseph was a little surprised, but he could tell she had no intention of chatting.

As for the reason behind her attitude…

He understood. He really did.

Ding—

They reached the floor. Elodie turned, gave Joseph a polite nod, and stepped out.

Joseph watched her disappear around the corner before the elevator doors slid shut again.

He stood there for a long moment, rubbing his temples with a wry smile.

He had to admit he felt a little odd.

Elodie barely acknowledged him, yet he found himself wanting to talk to her more. It struck him, suddenly, that he'd never truly known who she was.

_

Back in Rosemary and Emile's suite, the hotel had delivered a beautiful fruit platter. Rosemary, positively beaming, called Elodie over. "Come have a snack, Elodie. The concierge just told me there's a bonfire party at ten tonight. Do you want to go?"

As Elodie walked over, Emile was already holding out a forkful of kiwi for her. She took a bite and then replied, "Depends how long these reports take. You and Grandma should go and enjoy yourselves—start the year off right."

Rosemary gave her a mock scold. "Working even on New Year's Eve? Honestly, Elodie, you're turning into a real workaholic."

Emile just smiled, unwilling to criticize. "Come on, Rosemary, you know how determined Elodie is—she always gives a hundred percent. If this is what she wants, we should support her."

"Is there something you need?"

Lucinda's voice was sharp. "I just checked the kitchen—why haven't you started on the desserts this year? Did you forget?"

Elodie's gaze was steady. "No, I didn't forget. I just didn't make them."

For years, she'd devoted herself to Jarrod's family, honing her cooking until her desserts rivaled any chef's. Lucinda loved her pastries, and every New Year's Eve, she'd insisted Elodie make enough for everyone.

Back then, Elodie had believed that if she worked hard enough, if she gave enough of herself, she would finally earn their approval.

Now…

Lucinda's moods, her likes and dislikes—they no longer mattered.

Not even Jarrod did.

None of it was her concern anymore.