How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Esmeralda sat cross-legged on the chair, eyes darting mischievously as she slurped up a mouthful of steaming instant noodles. With a grin, she slid her feet into her slippers and sprang up. "Alright, alright, I get it-you two have things to discuss. I know when I'm the third wheel. I'll leave you to your privacy."

She whisked herself onto the balcony, bowl in hand, ready to savor her midnight

snack in peace.

Elodie couldn't help but chuckle at her friend's theatrics.

Setting her phone down beside her laptop so it wouldn't get in the way of her work, she finally answered the call.

Jarrod's face filled the screen.

Elodie glanced at him briefly, still flipping through documents on her laptop. "Shouldn't you be asleep? It must be nearly one in the morning over there."

Jarrod appeared to be in his study, setting his phone on the desk. "I had to make sure you arrived safely, Ms. Thorne. Heartless as ever-not even a message to let me know?"

Elodie's conscience pricked at her.

She had reasoned earlier that it was too late to call him, not wanting to disturb his sleep. She'd planned to send a message first thing in the morning.

Besides, after so many years of handling things on her own, she still hadn't fully shifted her mindset. Some habits die hard, and she knew she could be careless about such things.

"Sorry," Elodie finally said.

Jarrod watched her serious expression, then let out a quiet laugh. "At least you're honest."

"Are you feeling alright? How do you like the place? If anything isn't up to par, I can talk to the higher-ups and have medical staff sent to check on you."

He was clearly still uneasy about Elodie's condition.

"No need to make a fuss," she quickly interrupted. "I'm fine. I'm here to work, not to be pampered."

Jarrod looked up at her as he began unbuttoning his shirt. "You certainly know how to tough it out. Am I the only one worrying about you?"

Elodie knew Jarrod could be sharp-tongued, but he never hid how he felt. Even through the screen, she felt her cheeks warm.

She glanced over just in time to see Jarrod, now with his shirt undone, pulling it off entirely.

His torso was all lean muscle and clean lines.

Elodie blinked. "...What are you doing?"

Jarrod arched a brow. "Changing my bandages. Why, did I shock you?"

Elodie felt a bit foolish for jumping to conclusions. She'd assumed he was just teasing her, putting on a show.

She took a quick

look at his injuries.

Most had healed, though the cut on his chest would still need time. Feeling somewhat reassured, she

returned her attention to her laptop, ignoring how Jarrod dabbed

antiseptic over his chest and

abs-abs that now filled the entire screen.

After he finished, Jarrod noticed Elodie hadn't glanced up once.

He raised his eyebrows. "Are you going to look at me?"

Elodie shot him a sidelong glance. "What is it?"

"If you won't even look, what's the point of me taking my shirt off?"

She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Did he really think she was that gullible?

Not that she didn't notice him-he was a strikingly disciplined man, always in shape, and she couldn't deny he looked incredible. But right now, her priority was organizing her work, not getting distracted.

“Isn't it a little pointless to show off through a screen?" she muttered, still scrolling through her files, her voice cool and even.

Her calmness made Jarrod click his tongue and smirk, completely unfazed. "Such high praise? Thank you, Ms. Thorne."

Elodie knew him well enough—nothing ever rattled him, and he certainly wasn't shy.

She made a noncommittal sound.

Noticing how busy she was, Jarrod

slipped his shirt back on. "Give it anoveldrama

little while. I'll fly over and meet you,

can head to New York

her."