How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 582

The ringing in Sylvie’s ears grew so intense, she could barely think.

She couldn’t understand how everything had come to this, with not the slightest hope or leeway left. It was as if every step, every turning point, had been meticulously calculated in advance, leaving her completely defenseless—forced to watch her own downfall unfold, helpless even to struggle.

“Ms. Fielding, so, I need you both to cooperate.” The man placed the notice of execution on the table. “The timeline for compliance is detailed here. If you refuse, we’ll have no choice but to forcibly evict you.”

Today was both the notice and the official lockout—restrictions on selling, transferring, or mortgaging the house. Any chance to secretly offload the property was now impossible. The last path had been blocked off completely.

Sylvie’s final line of defense crumbled. She collapsed onto the sofa, numb and despairing.

How could she have failed to see it before? In Jarrod’s eyes, she had always been nothing more than a pawn, someone to be manipulated at will. The depth of his scheming made cold sweat bead on her skin, realization dawning far too late.

A suffocating panic seized her, threatening to break her apart.

The officials, tasked only with delivering the notice and sealing the property, showed no interest in the story behind it all. Soon, they left, and a heavy silence filled the vast house. Only the persistent rain outside seemed to mock her—melancholy and bitter.

Selma snapped out of her daze and rushed to Sylvie’s side. “Did you talk to Jarrod? Why would he suddenly force this? Is he—”

The fear choked her words; she couldn’t even finish her suspicion.

Sylvie’s eyes were bloodshot, hair plastered to her cheeks, all traces of her former poise gone. She sat motionless, dazed.

Selma’s voice rose in panic. “What’s going on? Isn’t this house ours? What are we supposed to do if they take it away now?”

Only then did Sylvie stir.

The harsh reality hit her with a splitting headache—she couldn’t avoid the truth any longer. Jarrod was never someone she could hope to win over. She’d never understood him, not even a little. And now, silently, she was walking toward her own destruction.

And with Joseph and the others refusing to help, she understood all too well—families like the Silversteins held the kind of power most businesses depended on. No one, professionally or personally, wanted to get their hands dirty by siding with her.