How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 807

The convoy turned and drove away.

Elodie watched the lead car up ahead, realizing they had no idea where they were being taken.

But…

She glanced at her colleague’s basic phone—not the smartest device, but good enough. She quickly sent Jarrod a few updates: their real-time location, the route, anything that could help.

To be safe, she sent some of the information to Esmeralda as well.

As soon as they got a signal, the messages would be delivered automatically.

—

On Esmeralda’s end.

She’d been among the first group evacuated.

The chaos happened so suddenly she hadn’t even gotten a chance to look for Elodie.

Now, anxiety kept her pacing, unable to sit still.

Elodie’s phone had gone dark. Esmeralda had asked the person in charge here, but the answer was always the same: “Sorry, we’re still coordinating and checking. The moment we have any news, you’ll know right away.”

“So, you’re saying Elodie might still be trapped inside?” Her breath came quick and shallow, her eyes red from worry.

She was so agitated that the gash on her lower leg—scraped in her frantic escape—had started bleeding again.

She couldn’t care less about the pain, and kept asking the same question, over and over.

“At this time, we can’t confirm anything. I’m sorry.”

Each time she heard that, Esmeralda’s hope shrank a little more.

Tears streamed down her cheeks.

She wasn’t like Elodie, who could stay calm no matter how bad things got. Esmeralda couldn’t stop imagining the worst.

Just then, voices sounded outside the door.

Esmeralda looked up and instantly spotted Fleming at the front of the group.

For a moment, it was as if she’d seen a lifeline. Limping, she hurried toward him. “Fleming, where did you just come from? Do you know anything about the situation at base camp?”

Her grip on his sleeve loosened. “If it were me trapped in there, would you still stand by and do nothing? Just wait for your orders?”

Something in her words unsettled Fleming.

He pressed his lips together, staring at her, silent.

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. “What if it was Lucy?”

At that, Fleming’s brow furrowed, almost involuntarily.

He clearly hated hearing her say that.

And suddenly, Esmeralda understood.

The contrast stung.