How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Of course she'd always been clever—at least, once she'd torn herself free of the illusions of love.

In this moment, everything became painfully clear.

What Jarrod wanted wasn't simply the total destruction of her family.

No, he had used her, even as he pushed her toward the abyss.

Used her to lay out a golden path for Elodie. Used her to thrust Elodie, step by step, into the public eye, turning her into nothing more than a stepping stone, a pawn in Elodie's rise to fame. If she hadn't stumbled through the string of scandals Jarrod so carefully orchestrated-each one more explosive than the last -Elodie would never have become such a household name. At best, she'd be just another quiet scientist, her return to the field after years away marked only by a discreet press release.

If Jarrod didn't have such grand ambitions, he could've ruined her in a thousand easier ways.

But instead, he made sure each blow came directly from Elodie. Every time she fell, it was Elodie who struck the final blow, Elodie who got her revenge-while Jarrod made sure Elodie's star only rose higher.

Of course-

If she'd never returned home, Jarrod would've found other ways to make her stumble.

But none would have been so devastating, so complete. He wanted her and her family utterly disgraced, shattered in the eyes of the world, shut out forever from any hope of belonging to high society, condemned to a life where redemption was impossible.

She realized with a sick twist in her gut-she'd never meant anything to him. He'd only ever kept her close to serve his own plans.

He played everyone like pieces on a chessboard, clearing the way for Elodie's dreams with ruthless precision, dressing her success in the finest trappings.

The horror of it washed over her. The more she thought, the more she realized her guesses barely scratched the surface. She could never truly understand Jarrod.

She was too exhausted even to hate him anymore.

Jarrod didn't spare her another glance.

After exchanging a few words with the security team that had just arrived, he got in his car.

Sylvie watched as he drove away without a trace of hesitation.

Only then did she collapse, hopeless, onto the ground.

By now, she couldn't even tell if there was more hatred in her eyes, or something else altogether.

Elodie, seeing the officers and agents gathering outside, understood at once- Jarrod had never intended to let the other side escape.

She also saw Selma being led to a

waiting car. That woman, so

calculating and vicious, the kind who

would always find some way to retaliate, was finally and completely crushed.

For the first time, Elodie felt a chill run through her.

If not for Jarrod, she might not have made it through the day.

But...

Thinking back through everything that had happened, peeling away the layers, it dawned on her: hadn't she always been the one to benefit?

Jarrod got into the car.

Outside, chaos reigned.

He closed the door, shutting out the noise, sealing them together in the quiet of the cabin.

The sense of his presence filled the space.

Elodie's thoughts still spun. She frowned slightly, glancing at the man beside her with a hint of unease.

Jarrod turned his head, meeting her

gaze, but said nothing. He started

the engine, resting one hand casually on the steering wheel. "I’I

take you home."

Elodie was still wearing her soft loungewear, sitting quietly in the car, showing no

sign of the terror she'd endured an hour earlier.

She glanced down at her slippers.noveldrama

When Jarrod had rushed her into the

car, she'd lost one. He'd noticed,

picked it up without a word, and

slipped it gently back onto her foot.

Once, when they were first married, he'd done these small, thoughtful things all

the time.

Now, it just felt strange.

She looked away, sirens wailing in the distance.

Only now did she truly understand what Jarrod was like when he was angry.

Or maybe it wasn't anger at all-just the real Jarrod, cold and ruthless.

All these years, she had never seen this side of him.

Not even during the divorce, not even when everything between them had fallen apart—he'd never let her glimpse the edge beneath the surface.

She watched a police cruiser speed past in the opposite direction, then spoke in a calm, matter-of-fact voice: "Thank you."