How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Patricia was completely shaken by what had happened.

She just couldn't understand how she'd ended up like this. She came from the

best possible background—her father was a man of power, her mother one of the

country's rare self-made businesswomen—so how on earth had she fallen so far?

All she could do was clutch at the bars between them, fingers tangled in Watts's

sleeve, her eyes red as she stared at him. “You’ve thought of something, haven’t

you? Watts, you know me—I can’t survive in a place like that! It’s torture! And for

three whole years?”

She had never, in all her life, felt this kind of fear.

Never could she have imagined tripping up over something like this. If it hadn’t

been Jarrod who was caught with the banned substances, she would have

walked away untouched. But the night before she left for her art show abroad,

Jarrod had pushed her too far. She’d let her emotions get the best of her, let

herself spiral out of control—and, just her luck, that was the night she got caughtnoveldrama

red-handed.

Watts glanced down at Patricia’s grip, noticing how she’d wrinkled his shirt sleeve.

His obsessive nature recoiled at the sight; he hated things like this, and Patricia

knew it—she just never cared. Only her own feelings ever mattered.

“If there was a way out,” he said, indulging her just one last time, “do you really

think you’d still be here? I warned you ages ago: you and Jarrod were never right

for each other. You trying to dominate him was always doomed to fail.”

Patricia’s eyes were bloodshot, but she managed a bitter smile. “I don’t care about

him. I just wanted to win.”

She stared at him, her voice hardening. “Didn’t you say you liked me? That you’d

do anything for me—even try to get close to Elodie? I’m not going to that hellhole,

Watts. You’ll talk my father into saving me, won’t you?”

The words seemed to echo in the air.

Liked her?

It was true—years ago, he’d said those very words to her.

He’d known since he was seven that he and Patricia weren’t really related by

blood.

Back then, Patricia hadn’t turned into the person she was now.

It was only after she discovered the truth about herself and fought with her family

that she left the country. From that moment on, she’d spiraled further and further

out of control.

He’d followed her overseas for college, just to be near her.

That was during Patricia’s darkest

days, after Jarrod had left her so

broken and volatile she was nearly

diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Watts had been there for her, seen

her at her lowest. For two years, he

took care of her, but Patricia never

cared about what he thought or

felt—instead, she clung stubbornly to

Jarrod, wasting years of her life.

Later, Watts clashed with Jarrod in

business as well, only to lose

spectacularly. Both failures weighed

on him, and he’d never truly moved

on.

But now, looking at the woman in front of him, even his feelings seemed to blur

and fade.

His expression cooled, and he gently

pried her hand off his sleeve.

“There’s nothing to be done. Forget

Jarrod’s revenge—Patricia, I don’t

want to watch you destroy yourself

any further.”

Patricia’s face twisted in disbelief. “You’re abandoning me too? Don’t tell me you

actually like Elodie now? Watts, I won’t allow it!”

At Elodie’s name, Watts stiffened, jaw clenched, then turned away and made for

the door.

Patricia watched his retreating back,

fury burning in her chest. “Watts!

Don’t kid yourself! You know exactly

what you’ve done. As for Elodie’s

kid—don’t forget, I covered for you

half the time!”

Watts froze in his tracks for a moment.

But he didn’t look back—he just walked out.

Elodie spent the next two days quietly resting at home.

After lunch, she and Rosemary sat together in the living room, chatting in the soft

afternoon light.

Partway through their conversation, Rosemary’s phone rang several times.

To Elodie’s surprise, it was Malcolm calling. Her grandmother still had his number

saved—she hadn’t blocked him.

Elodie remembered how, since yesterday, Malcolm’s calls had been coming in

over and over.