How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 543

“I just saw Ms. Fielding heading into Mr. Silverstein’s suite…”

“Are you sure? Did you really see her?”

“As sure as I am standing here. She walked in clear as day—and Mr. Silverstein was already back in his room.”

Elodie’s limbs felt like lead, her head throbbing with each heartbeat. Still, she forced herself to focus, catching every word of their conversation.

But she had no energy to care about any of it.

That was their business, not hers.

She could barely hold herself together as it was.

Mustering what little strength she had left, Elodie made her way to her room. She glanced up at the brass-plated number on the door, double-checked it, then slipped inside and shut the door behind her. Half-blind in the darkness, she staggered across the plush carpet, fumbling her way to the bed.

She collapsed face-first onto the covers.

–

Downstairs, the party raged on.

Those who could still keep up were playing and drinking well into the night.

Plenty of others had already given up, retiring to their rooms before midnight.

Watts had no interest in joining the games. He stood alone on the deck, leaning over the railing, a glass of whiskey warming his hand.

Before long, Patricia sauntered over, swirling her own drink. She flashed him a bright, teasing smile. “Still out here by yourself?”

Watts shot her a glance. “What of it?”

Patricia cocked her head, eyes glinting. “Aren’t you going to check on Elodie?”

This time, Watts didn’t bother replying. He just stared out into the darkness, sipping his drink.

Patricia watched him for a moment, then her lips curved in a sly little smirk. “Room 6103. I just made things easier for you. Don’t say I never did you any favors—now it’s up to you to make the most of it.”

That finally got Watts’ attention. He frowned at her. “What are you playing at?”

She cradled her chin in her hand, laughing softly. “Take a guess.”

With that, Patricia turned her gaze back toward the table where Elodie had been sitting earlier. Her eyes lingered on the wine glass left behind.

Watts followed her line of sight.

After a long, tense pause, his whole demeanor shifted, eyes sharpening. “Patricia, what did you do?”

“Nothing much… Just a custom cocktail, something with a bit of a kick. You know, the sort that loosens people up,” Patricia said, utterly nonchalant. She didn’t elaborate on the ingredients.

Elodie lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling light for a long, dazed moment.

Her mind was a fog.

Eventually, she turned her head to the side.

The other half of the bed was empty.

She stared at that vacant space for a while, her expression unreadable. Then, with quiet determination, she pushed aside her thoughts, sat up, and swung her feet to the floor.

As she pulled back the sheets, she finally noticed what she was wearing.

Not the dress she’d boarded the yacht in, but a set of luxurious pajamas—clearly provided by the ship’s staff.

Elodie sat there for a long time, unmoving, lost in thoughts she couldn’t quite name. Then, as if nothing at all had happened, she got up and went to the bathroom to wash up.

Once she’d put herself together, Elodie left the room.

She didn’t look back, didn’t care to see where she’d been or what she might have missed. She walked quietly down the corridor, eyes lowered, lost in her own thoughts.

She didn’t snap out of it until she reached the elevator.

Someone spoke up beside her. “Morning.”