How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 98

Jarrod withdrew his hand with a faint, indifferent gesture and glanced at the old woman. "Are you satisfied now?"

Relief softened the lines on her face, but she still beckoned a servant, who soon brought over a bowl of medicine. "Drink this tonic, dear. It's good for your health."

Seeing how insistent she was, Jarrod didn't bother to argue. He didn't even ask what was in the cup—just picked it up and downed it in one gulp.

A smile broke across the old woman's face, genuine and pleased. She turned to where Elodie stood, lost in thought. "Elodie? Come here, sweetheart. Let Dr. MacLeod take a look at you. He'll help you feel better."

Jarrod's gaze drifted over as well, slow and unreadable.

Elodie's fingers tightened into her palm.

A lump caught in her throat. "I…"

She couldn't let this happen.

A truly skilled physician could spot any number of hidden ailments. Dr. MacLeod had been treating the old woman for years and was known as one of the best in the country. If she was examined, her secret would surely be exposed.

"What is it, Elodie?" The old woman stepped closer, concern etching her features.

Elodie's lips had gone pale. "Grandma, I'm really fine. There's no need to trouble anyone."

"You've lost weight, darling. I've always worried you weren't taking care of yourself. It's nothing, just a quick check-up. If he prescribes some tonic, it'll only help." The old woman took her gently by the arm, guiding her toward Dr. MacLeod.

Elodie's palms grew slick with cold sweat.

She was trapped, with no graceful way out.

If her illness was discovered, she dreaded to think what might happen—what chaos would follow.

She couldn't help glancing over at Jarrod, who looked for all the world like he was merely an onlooker.

He met her gaze.

His expression was unchanged, cool as ever.

Until, suddenly, as Elodie stepped in front of Dr. MacLeod, her mind racing with panic, a hand closed around her wrist. A gentle tug, and she stumbled backward, colliding with a solid chest.

Startled, she looked up. Jarrod's face was as impassive as ever as he spoke, his tone calm but resolute. "Grandma, young people are plenty healthy. Really, there's no need to worry about us. We'll take care of ourselves."

Without waiting for a reply, he led Elodie upstairs.

The old woman watched them go in surprise.

Dr. MacLeod stroked his beard thoughtfully, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "If all goes well, you might have good news by tonight."

The old woman's face lit up with delight. "Wouldn't that be wonderful!"

_

It wasn't her—not really.

He wasn't worried about her embarrassment; he was just safeguarding Sylvie's "exclusive rights" as his girlfriend.

Jarrod seemed busy, typing away and chatting on his laptop, not interested in further conversation.

Elodie let the matter drop.

She knew the old woman would be paying close attention to them tonight, watching for any sign of romance.

She had no desire for more drama. After a quiet shower, she slipped into bed, settling on the very edge of the huge mattress.

She glanced at Jarrod still sitting across the room, unmoving. "Suit yourself."

It took a long moment before he answered, voice low and husky. "Alright."

Elodie didn't dwell on it. Soon, she drifted into a deep, restful sleep.

When she woke the next morning, Jarrod was nowhere to be seen. The other half of the bed was perfectly made, untouched.

She didn't linger—just got up and went to wash up.

As she came downstairs, she found the old woman already waiting, who immediately hurried over, giving Elodie a once-over. "Up so early, dear? Where's Jarrod? Still sleeping?"