How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 624

Queenie’s thoughts were her own business—Elodie had no desire to waste words on her. After all, she was the one whose night had been upended. Her expression was cold, her tone holding only the barest trace of politeness. “You know perfectly well what happened. Don’t blame others just to shirk responsibility. I wish you two all the happiness in the world, but whether you have business here or not, don’t show up again and make a nuisance of yourselves.”

That was as good as slamming the door in their faces.

The whole night was a mess of noise and tension.

Ivan was well and truly drunk.

His mind clouded with alcohol, yet his eyes never left Elodie. No matter how many times Queenie called his name, he sat there, eyes bloodshot, silent and stubborn. Who he was really fighting with—Queenie or himself—was anyone’s guess.

Elodie didn’t spare either of them another glance. After her parting words, she turned instead to Jarrod, who’d been quietly standing by her side the whole time. As she spun around, Jarrod lowered his gaze, fixing his eyes on her face. The warm light above reflected in his eyes, but he said nothing.

Elodie hesitated for a moment, then reached out and caught the sleeve of his coat. “Come inside.”

At the very least, in front of Ivan, she and Jarrod had to look the part. Whether it was to keep up appearances or to help Ivan see the truth and finally let go, it hardly mattered.

The door closed behind them.

The entryway was a bit small, the air thick with the scent of the two of them—familiar, close, a little tense.

Without glancing at Jarrod, Elodie walked further inside.

“Have a seat.”

Only then did Jarrod move, his long legs carrying him unhurriedly into the living room. Elodie’s home was a picture of quiet, thoughtful comfort. The curtains were a soft yellow with a sheer white overlay, the table and chairs made of warm walnut wood. Delicate coasters sat on the table, a creamy rug stretched in front of the sofa, and a vase of fresh lilies stood on the coffee table. Every detail spoke of a life well cared for.

Of someone who knew how to look after herself.