How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 289

Other than the familiar scent of his cologne, Elodie caught the faintest trace of women’s perfume clinging to the jacket.

Most likely, another woman had worn it before her, or at least brushed against it.

Her expression grew colder. Without a second thought, she shoved the jacket back into the crook of Jarrod’s arm.

“Thanks, but I don’t need it.”

Her movements were crisp and decisive, not bothering to disguise her distance or rejection.

Jarrod didn’t seem the least bit bothered. It was almost as if he’d anticipated Elodie’s reaction all along. He draped the jacket back over his arm with an easy grace, unphased by her attitude.

Casually, he said, “The military’s procurement tender—VistaLink Technologies is putting in a bid, aren’t they?”

Elodie paused.

So Jarrod knew about that, too.

When she didn’t respond, he pressed on. “I imagine VistaLink Technologies understands how fierce the competition will be this time. If you’re not certain you can win, it could be a costly gamble.”

“What exactly are you suggesting, Mr. Silverstein?” Elodie cut in, her voice calm and even.

Jarrod studied her cool, distant expression, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “A joint bid.”

“VistaLink Technologies could consider partnering up with Neural Intelligence. Your team has an edge in innovative tech development, while we’ll have Nexus Analytics on board to ensure technical stability. We both get what we want. It’s the optimal solution.”

Understanding dawned on Elodie.

No wonder Jarrod had suddenly come over to talk—or tried to drape his jacket over her shoulders in a show of concern. So, he wasn’t just being friendly. He was here on business, after all.

A joint bid sounded nice on the surface, but in reality, it was just a way for Neural Intelligence to seize their first big break by leveraging every available opportunity.

Elodie didn’t answer. She stepped past Jarrod and headed straight for the 3D prototype room, silently weighing her options.

“Ms. Fielding, where are you planning to submit your paper?” he asked.

Sylvie smiled modestly, without a hint of arrogance. “The Aerospace and Aeronautics Section B of the International Science Journal.”

She knew that, back in grad school, Alexander had published a paper in Section A of the same journal.

The four sections marked different rungs in the academic hierarchy. Section A was the pinnacle—mostly prestigious scholars and top-tier prodigies with years of research behind them. Section B, while a notch below, was still highly selective.

She figured, as the son of Charlie Sterling, Alexander had naturally made it to Section A with his father’s guidance. If she could get an academician to mentor her, maybe she could do the same with enough effort.

Alexander chuckled when he heard her answer, glancing instinctively at Elodie, who had just walked over and said nothing.

He’d published a paper in Section A, sure—but back in the day, Elodie had published two. That was a whole other league.

A glimmer of interest flashed in his eyes before he said, “A Section B aerospace paper, huh? You might want to have our Elodie take a look.”