How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 453

When Naylor saw the headline, she clicked on it instantly.

A livestream recording popped up—someone had captured the exact moment the camera lingered on Sylvie. The audio caught Jarrod’s words, clear as day: “This is my wife, Elodie.”

Jarrod himself wasn’t in the frame, but Sylvie’s reaction was—her face visibly drained of color.

The video had been reposted so many times, the quality was now a blurry mess.

Naylor scrolled through the comments.

The thread was a swarm of activity.

What made this video so fascinating was that Jarrod had come right out and introduced his wife, no hesitation, no ambiguity. He made no effort to involve Sylvie in any way.

As a result, nearly every comment speculated about Sylvie’s intentions, hinting that whatever plans she might have had, they’d clearly failed.

Most people probably had no idea who Sylvie was—but everyone knew Jarrod.

The Silverstein heir, every company or investment he touched seemed to turn to gold. He was a fixture in the finance world, and his looks didn’t hurt—he’d been the subject of interviews, and more than once his photos had gone viral just for his face and build alone.

A single candid photo of him could easily rack up hundreds of thousands of likes.

When someone like that was suddenly at the center of a scandal, the story spread like wildfire.

Yet all the video really showed was Jarrod calmly introducing his wife—there was nothing you could criticize.

So the backlash quickly shifted toward Sylvie.

Naylor checked the trending stats, frowning in confusion. “Why hasn’t the Silverstein family shut this down yet?”

—

Sylvie was already aware of what had happened.

No matter how thick-skinned she was, some of the comments still left her breathless with anger.

Yesterday, there hadn’t been a hint of drama online, and now, out of nowhere, the story was everywhere—her face exposed for all to see.

She took a deep breath, realizing this wasn’t going to be easy to fix.

She dialed Jarrod immediately.

No answer for a long time.

Meanwhile—

Selma was running into a wall herself.

Today was supposed to be a gathering with a few of the society wives.

But when she arrived, she was told—last minute—that it had been canceled.

She could see one of their cars still parked outside.

That stung.

Selma was no stranger to these games; she’d clawed her way up and knew exactly what was going on.

In this world, the men were one thing—but the wives’ circle was a world of its own, even more intricate. Over tea and cards, they’d share gossip, probe for information about each other’s families, and maneuver business deals in ways their husbands couldn’t.

But there was one thing that united them more than anything else: their attitude toward homewreckers, gold-diggers, mistresses—call them what you will.

There were no real secrets in their circles; word always got out. And today, it was clear that the wives had heard the latest rumors as well.