How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 498

Joseph’s words sounded more like empty persuasion than any genuine plea—he never once gave his real feelings away.

But at this point, Elodie could hardly fail to see what he was really thinking. He couldn’t even speak to her without holding something back.

She looked at him, her gaze stripped of even the last traces of warmth, replaced by a cool indifference. “Mr. Delacroix, I have to say—you are far more hypocritical than I ever imagined.”

Joseph froze, stunned by the bluntness of her words.

Elodie had no desire to waste another breath. She turned away, searching for Esmeralda.

Joseph stood there for a long time, rooted to the spot. He’d never considered that things would come to this—Elodie laying his intentions bare, with nowhere left for him to hide. From now on, she would never let him close again.

—

After finding Esmeralda, she learned Alexander was still stuck on the highway. Elodie nodded in acknowledgment, not bothering to mention her run-in with Joseph.

There were twenty minutes left before the gallery doors opened.

Elodie gazed across the cordoned-off exhibition space, emotions churning behind her calm eyes.

As she turned, she noticed media starting to arrive. Selma, today’s star, was already fielding a few questions.

Asked why she’d chosen a career in art, Selma smiled easily. “My parents have always supported me. Back then, studying art was expensive, but my family managed. My parents sacrificed a lot to give me every opportunity, so I was surrounded by art from a young age. Honestly, I’ve had a smooth path.”

Hearing that, Elodie couldn’t suppress a flicker of scorn.

What a shameless self-portrait. She’d painted herself as the perfect daughter.

The truth was, Selma came from an ordinary background. It was her mother who’d scraped together funds to support her through college. Now, Selma spun that into a story of family “support,” as if she’d always been destined for success.

To be fair, Selma did have talent. After moving abroad and getting her residency, she’d become even more ambitious, making all the right connections and steadily climbing the ranks. She’d carved out a real name for herself in the art world.

Grady’s expression darkened.

Esmeralda moved in front of Elodie protectively, shoving Grady aside. “What’s wrong with your eyes? Would you dare tell Dad you’re into someone like Sylvie? Marry her? In your dreams. You think the Mercer family would ever let her in? Grady, if you don’t get your act together, I’ll go straight home and tell Dad everything. Let’s see if he doesn’t break your legs.”

By now, everyone knew Sylvie was the reason Jarrod’s marriage had imploded.

The scandal was all over town; Sylvie was infamous. At least here, in real high society, no respectable family would ever accept a woman who’d brazenly wrecked someone’s marriage.

Other than the Silverstein family, most of the old-money families had already written Sylvie off. Her reputation was ruined; her name was on everyone’s lips, but for all the wrong reasons.

And if she didn’t marry into the Silversteins, there’d be no second chances. No other prestigious family would ever touch her. That was the reality.

Grady looked even more furious, his handsome face clouded with anger. “Esmeralda, you’re completely out of line!”

Esmeralda sneered, “Still dreaming of marrying Sylvie? Does Jarrod know you’re after his woman? What do you even have to compete with him? Are you delusional, or is Sylvie?”