How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 490

After lunch, Jarrod excused himself and headed back to the office for some urgent business.

Sylvie made her way straight to Neural Intelligence—she had a meeting scheduled that afternoon.

Jarrod settled behind his desk, listening as Keith gave his report. Once he was clear on the day’s agenda, he closed the file, glanced up, and asked, “The Obsidian Gallery’s exhibition opens tomorrow?”

Keith quickly double-checked, “Yes, sir. Is there anything you’d like me to arrange?”

“Set up a meeting with the director. I want to see him tomorrow.”

Keith hesitated. “Are you planning to attend the exhibition yourself?”

It was rare—Mr. Silverstein’s schedule was already packed, and tomorrow was no exception.

Jarrod rubbed his brow, his tone casual. “No, I’m not attending the show. I’m taking Miss Selma to meet him, discuss a potential partnership.”

Keith immediately caught Jarrod’s drift. “Understood. I’ll make the appointment right away.”

That westside gallery—Mr. Silverstein had invested in it years back. Now it made sense; he’d been thinking ahead. With their prior investment and with Jarrod personally introducing Miss Selma to negotiate a contract, the whole process would likely be seamless.

In effect, Jarrod was handing Selma a golden opportunity—a secure, long-term arrangement. And, in doing so, he was giving Ms. Fielding a safety net as well.

—

Later that afternoon, Esmeralda burst into Elodie’s office, her face alight with excitement. “I’ve got some fantastic news!”

Elodie tore her gaze from her computer. “What’s going on?”

Esmeralda took a deep breath, thrusting her phone into Elodie’s hands. “A friend just sent me these—take a look. Isn’t this the painting you’ve been searching for?”

Elodie glanced down. Esmeralda’s friend had sent several photos, all taken inside an art gallery. And there, hanging on the wall, was the painting—Selma’s painting. The one Elodie had been trying to track down.

The next morning, just past ten, Jarrod’s other assistant, Andrea, drove Selma and Sylvie over to the gallery.

Selma was in excellent spirits. She knew what Jarrod was setting up for her—this could change everything. A partnership with the institution meant she’d provide artworks, they’d handle the business side, and her annual earnings could easily hit the millions. Her work would be featured in exhibitions all over, and she’d barely have to lift a finger.

When they arrived, Jarrod was already waiting. Sylvie spotted him first and strolled over with a smile. “Jarrod, have you been waiting long?”

He responded, “Not at all. This is Mr. Faust, the director here.”

Sylvie nodded politely, while Selma stepped forward to shake his hand. “Hello, I’m Selma. I imagine you’ve heard of me.”

Faust smiled warmly. “I have. I saw your work overseas, in fact. And with Mr. Silverstein introducing you personally, I’m sure we can work something out. Is there anything in particular you’re hoping for?”

Selma glanced at Jarrod before replying, her tone easygoing. “No special treatment needed just because of Mr. Silverstein. I’m happy to go through your usual process. If it works for you, it works for me.”

Sylvie could tell Jarrod had smoothed things over with Faust in advance. The atmosphere was positive, the conversation going smoothly—there was no need for her to intervene at all.