How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 328

She ignored the way Sylvie’s face fell.

With a brisk turn, Esmeralda climbed into her car. Just looking at her foolish brother made her blood boil; she slammed the gas, letting a cloud of exhaust billow behind her as she sped off down the street.

Yet, the incident left an unspoken sting in everyone’s mind—a barb that lingered long after.

Sylvie kept her gaze lowered, lost in thought.

She figured it must have been the buzz of her family’s art exhibition that set Elodie off. Maybe the spectacle got under her skin, prompting that brazen, boastful speech.

All posturing, really.

Did Elodie really think getting into this field was as easy as picking apples at the market? Anyone could just waltz in and claim a spot?

Maurice gave a low whistle, glancing over at Sylvie. “Feels like we just got hustled… What’s your take?”

Sylvie finally stepped up beside Jarrod, her tone steady and cool. “Ambition’s fine, but making grand promises in front of a crowd without considering what happens if you fail? That’s reckless—almost childish.”

She didn’t take it seriously. In truth, she looked down on it.

Still, Sylvie shot Maurice a thoughtful look. “Has she always been this unrealistic?”

Maurice hesitated, his eyes flicking to Jarrod, who stood off to the side, eyes downcast, lost in his own thoughts.

Jarrod clearly couldn’t care less about the whole spectacle. He hadn’t even glanced in Elodie’s direction as she left. Judging by his lack of reaction, he probably found her declaration laughable.

As for how Elodie used to be…

She’d always been mild, unremarkable—never one to stand out. Even Maurice thought she’d acted a bit rash today. How was she planning to save face when this all blew up? There was no doubt how things would end.

Elodie rolled down the window, letting the wind whip through her hair as she narrowed her eyes against the breeze.

Truth was, she wasn’t angry or desperate to prove herself because of the exhibition. She knew all too well how everyone loved to compare her with Sylvie—how, in those comparisons, Sylvie always seemed to come out on top. She understood exactly what Selma and her daughter were after, what effect they wanted to create.

Her public declaration that she’d also apply for the graduate program wasn’t some spur-of-the-moment boast. It was a deliberate move—a way to force Selma and Sylvie into the spotlight, to make their so-called “ambiguous support from the board,” the “slot reserved for Sylvie,” and all the whispered expectations that she’d become Mr. Sterling’s protégé, look even more obvious.

By stepping up and making her own claim, Elodie ensured that if Sylvie failed, it would be that much more humiliating. She was never one for pointless arguments. She preferred to strike at the heart of things.

If Selma and Sylvie liked to show off, she’d help them put on an even bigger show.

As for the current wave of ridicule—she wasn’t Sylvie. She didn’t have time to fret over empty gossip.

The outcome was all that mattered.