How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 380

Despite being well into his eighties, Raleigh was as sharp and energetic as ever, his voice still carrying effortlessly through the room. The moment he spoke, the atmosphere seemed to hush, as if his words had pressed pause on the evening.

All around, heads turned—their eyes homing in on Jarrod, suspicion flickering in their glances.

It wasn’t just curiosity; it was genuine surprise.

Jarrod, however, looked entirely unfazed by Raleigh’s question.

He drummed his fingers loosely on the back of his chair. “My wife, you say?”

Even Elodie couldn’t hide her surprise at how things had suddenly turned. She had no idea why Raleigh would ask such a thing. Divorce or not, with or without that confidentiality agreement about their past marriage, the last thing she wanted was to have their former relationship dragged into the open. Instinctively, her brow knit tight, frustration clouding her eyes.

And then, just as she looked up, her gaze collided with Jarrod’s.

He glanced over, almost carelessly, but that single look made her fingers curl unconsciously against her palm. She hated this—being thrust under the spotlight, as if someone had yanked the rug out from beneath her.

But Jarrod’s attention didn’t linger. He offered only that fleeting glance before turning back to Raleigh with a faint, detached smile, waiting for what would come next.

Raleigh squinted at him. “Jarrod, weren’t you married before?”

Even Elias, who had been half-distracted, looked up—clearly caught off guard by such a revelation.

A ripple of shock ran through the gathering. “Mr. Silverstein? Married? Since when?”

“How come no one ever heard about it?”

“Is Mrs. Silverstein here tonight? Someone we know, perhaps…”

Jarrod listened to the murmurs swirling around him, his expression unchanged. He looked Raleigh straight in the eye, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Then tell me, sir, just where is this wife of mine?”

He was clearly joking—or, perhaps, denying it outright.

“Maybe you’ll be next down the aisle, Mr. Silverstein?”

Joseph shot Jarrod a concerned look, then glanced at Elodie—who, pointedly, stayed as far from Jarrod as possible. Joseph wished things were different. With Jarrod refusing to acknowledge anything, did Elodie feel exposed, or maybe even humiliated?

But Jarrod didn’t respond to any more questions; he simply let the topic die.

Elodie, meanwhile, gave a dry, almost cynical smile, as if none of this had anything to do with her. All that effort—to protect Sylvie’s reputation, to keep up appearances.

Elias happened to catch that fleeting expression on her face, and it gave him pause. Leaning over to Raleigh, he whispered, “Granddad, this really is Mr. Silverstein’s private business. Best we stay out of it.”

Raleigh frowned, a flicker of something complicated in his eyes. He looked at Jarrod once more but didn’t push further. After all, the man himself had denied it.

Jarrod, for his part, seemed utterly unbothered. He moved smoothly through the crowd, chatting with guests as though nothing had happened.

Elodie didn’t look back, nor did she join Jarrod at the head table. Linsey tried to stop her, but Elodie had already found a seat elsewhere.