How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Elinor burned with anger but was forced to swallow it down.

She knew all too well what Jarrod Silverstein was capable of-how, years ago, he'd squeezed their side of the family until they barely had a foothold left. They'd been all but "exiled" for years now.

Deep down, Elinor feared and dreaded Jarrod more than she cared to admit. She kept her mouth shut, not daring to utter a single word.

But the one who was truly seething was Patricia Aldridge.

She'd arrived today in good spirits, only to find Jarrod even sharper and more ruthless than he'd been in years past.

All her life, Patricia had been the one others fawned over-except when it came to Jarrod. In front of him, she'd stumbled again and again.

And now, to be dismissed with a word as humiliating as "mistress"—it was an outright insult.

Sprague Silverstein pressed his lips together. Though he was quietly furious, he forced himself to keep his composure. “Jarrod, Miss Aldridge is our guest,” he reminded.

Jarrod had already brushed past him, his usual poise now tinged with venom. "If you still can't see the reality of things, big brother, maybe you ought to return to Italy for a few more years. Figure out whose side you're really on."

Each word struck deeper than the last.

Sprague's eyes darkened.

Lucinda Howard finally understood-Elodie Thorne's situation had thrown Jarrod completely off balance. Jarrod was never one to let his emotions show, no matter the time or place. But now, he couldn't even be bothered to keep up appearances. Not for any of them. Not even for her, his own mother.

She couldn't help but feel a chill. For the first time, she saw her son—so brilliant, so inscrutable, always a step ahead completely undone over a woman.

He was ready to upend their entire world for her.

Jarrod had no interest in wasting any more words on people who didn't matter. After checking on his grandmother, he turned and left without looking back.

As for Patricia, he had plenty of ways to settle that score.

Once Jarrod was gone, Lucinda turned to Patricia and said quietly, "My apologies, Miss Aldridge. Please don't take it to heart."

Her tone was cool and even. She understood Patricia's intentions, but she also knew no one could dictate Jarrod's choices. Not her, not even the old matriarch.

Patricia caught the meaning

beneath Lucinda's words. She didn't let it show, just clenched her fingers tighter before nodding. "It's fine, He's alwaysbeen like this. We've known each other for years-there's nothing to fuss over."

"Well, I won't impose any longer then."

Patricia was already fuming and had no desire to linger for the sake of empty pleasantries. Her proud, imperious attitude only ever wavered in front of Jarrod.

Sprague spoke up in a low voice. "I'll see you out."

Patricia didn't refuse.

The two of them left, one after the other, leaving Lucinda and Elinor alone in the courtyard.

Elinor, snapping back to herself, was still indignant. After all, Jarrod was Lucinda's son and had basically just snubbed his elders.

"Sister-in-law, I heard Jarrod rushed off with Elodie when she fainted, didn't even care about his grandmother's birthday luncheon. If this gets out, people will call it unfilial."

Lucinda glanced at her coolly. "If you're so envious, why not tell Carney to dote on you the way

Jarrod looks after his wife? Themet

again you're not exactly young anymore-surely you're not jealous of the younger generation noveldrama

Elinor's face darkened. She heard the barb in Lucinda's words clearly. Was this all being pinned on her now?

But Lucinda didn't bother arguing. She turned and walked back to the main bedroom.

After being rebuffed by Jarrod, Patricia drove home with icy determination, foot heavy on the gas pedal. She scratched at her neck several times during the drive, as if trying to ease some anxious itch.

When she finally pulled up outside Watts Aldridge's villa, Watts happened to be coming down the stairs.

Patricia's expression was thunderous. She gulped down a glass of ice water, still scratching at her arm, and shot Watts a cold look as he stood above her on the stairs.

Watts could guess what had put her in this state. "Still not giving up?"

Patricia set her glass down, her voice taut "Tell me—what else am I supposed to do?" The sting of that "mistress" remark still lingered, but at the root of it all, she was jealous-jealous of Elodie.

Why? Why would a man like Jarrod be so devoted to her?

She'd had a smooth ride all her life. Even in the art world, her mother had paved

the way for her at every turn.