How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 889

Elodie knew Esmeralda no longer wanted to go through with the wedding, but Fleming walking out—that was something else altogether.

Her expression hardened with icy disapproval. “Mr. Mercer, do you even know what matters anymore? What could possibly make you lose your judgment like this?”

Fleming pressed his lips together. He hadn’t wanted any of this chaos, but here they were.

Esmeralda gently pulled her hand from his. “It’s Lucy again, isn’t it?”

Fleming said nothing.

The silence was answer enough.

A sardonic smile flickered across Esmeralda’s lips. “Alright. Go if you have to.”

She agreed without hesitation, none of the protests or pleading that might have come before. The calm in her voice felt almost like resignation, and it left Fleming strangely hollow, overtaken by an anxiety for which he had no words.

But there was no time to think it through. Lucy was in trouble—something with her leg, the same injury she’d sustained years ago in that incident Esmeralda had orchestrated. Fleming still felt responsible. He had to help.

“I’ll be back. Wait for me,” he said, rising to his feet and giving her a look that was almost solemn.

He told himself there was no other choice—Esmeralda would wait, she always had. With the wedding itself just minutes away, how could she possibly refuse him now or hold it against him?

He slipped away from the crowd, heading straight downstairs.

On the way out, he ran into Adrian.

Adrian pulled him aside and asked what happened. Fleming told him the truth.

Adrian’s eyes widened. “Esmeralda let you go, just like that?”

It was a miracle she hadn’t made a scene.

Fleming unfastened his collar as he climbed into the car, his face set in stone. “Yeah. Esmeralda knows when to let things go. I owe her for this—and once we’re married, I’ll make it up to her.”

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