How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 371

He even shot her a cold, disdainful look, his brow furrowed.

She had tried to spare Elodie’s dignity; it was Elodie herself who had thrown it away.

“Ms. Thorne really is unflappable, isn’t she? Most people would be falling apart by now.” Grady couldn’t stand Elodie’s feigned composure. He turned away from her, softening his tone as he addressed Sylvie. “Ms. Fielding, would you mind checking the university website?”

“Sure,” Sylvie said, barely sparing Elodie a glance. She pulled out her phone and navigated to Verdant University’s official site.

Maurice, too, silently opened the site on his own phone, searching for the published results.

But as his eyes landed on the page, the smile froze on his lips. He stared, eyes going wide in shock.

Jarrod lowered his gaze, watching the page load on Sylvie’s screen.

Then, as the rankings and scores came into sharp focus…

He looked up, his eyes flicking to Elodie.

Sylvie’s face, in that same instant, went slack with disbelief. Her grip on her phone tightened suddenly.

Her breathing faltered, uneven.

She must have read it wrong. She had to have.

“What is it?” Grady hadn’t seen the page yet, but Sylvie’s face went so pale that he couldn’t help but ask, concern creeping into his voice.

Elodie just watched the group, her expression cold, a faintly mocking smile tugging at her lips.

Alexander, ever the eager instigator, piped up with ‘concerned’ curiosity, “Did you get a good look, Ms. Fielding? What’s your score? Is it about the same as Elodie’s?”

With Alexander’s words still hanging in the air, Sylvie’s lips pressed into a thin, tense line. She turned off her phone, letting her hand drop, the screen now dark.

Her mind buzzed, thoughts scattering in every direction.

469…

How could Elodie have possibly scored 469?

“Is there some mistake?” Maurice finally found his voice, staring at Elodie in utter disbelief. “You’re the top scorer? 469?”

Grady froze, then his face twisted as the realization sank in.

All around them, people stared at Elodie—who had never once tried to draw attention to herself—in stunned silence.

And the margin wasn’t even close.

It simply didn’t make sense.

Maurice was at a loss for words, shock and confusion written all over his face. He just couldn’t figure it out.

Where had things gone wrong?

He’d known Elodie for years—she’d never shown the slightest hint of brilliance. At The Silverstein Group, her work had nothing to do with their field; she spent her days clocking in and out, orbiting around Jarrod like a shadow.

A nondescript “housewife”—how could this be possible?

“Mr. Sterling, you probably don’t know Elodie that well. She’s never even had anything to do with our field,” Grady said, almost on Sylvie’s behalf, unable to accept that she could have lost to Elodie.

Abbott frowned.

How could these people be so sure they knew Elodie?

Charlie’s expression cooled, annoyance flickering in his eyes as he looked over. “So what is it, then? You doubted her before the scores came out, and now you doubt her after. Do you think this is some kind of joke?”