How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Sylvie let out a small sigh of relief when she finally saw the code.

She only knew Jarrod was most likely staying somewhere in this area, so she decided to wait here for him to return.

At the door, she entered the code.

Beep, beep-

The lock didn't budge. The screen flashed an error.

Sylvie frowned and double-checked the code Octavia had sent her. She tried again—same result. Still wrong.

She shot Octavia a text:

**Sylvie:** Did you maybe send me the wrong code?

Octavia replied almost immediately:

**Octavia:** That can't be! I used that code last time I was there. I guess my

brother must've changed it?

-He never told you? Haven't you been over before?

The frustration was clear, even through text.

Her brother had changed the code and hadn't bothered to tell her!

Reading those messages, Sylvie's expression grew more serious.noveldrama

Of course Jarrod hadn't mentioned any of this. They hardly ever discussed such trivialities.

But since Octavia had asked, Sylvie replied anyway:

**Sylvie:** Must've slipped my mind. Don't worry about it.

She put her phone away and glanced through the courtyard gates.

There was no sign of anyone around-not even a housekeeper in sight. The place looked deserted.

Just as she turned to leave, her phone buzzed. Jarrod was calling.

Sylvie's heart skipped a beat; she hurried to answer. His voice, always calm and steady, came through the line:

"I've been caught up with work these last few days. I heard you were looking for me?"

The anxiety that had been twisting in her chest slowly eased.

"Oh, it's nothing urgent. I was just curious about what's been keeping you busy lately. And I happen to have a little free time myself..."

Jarrod replied evenly, as if nothing in the world could ruffle him:

"Had to go out of town on short notice. Met with a few people."

Sylvie recalled what Maurice had said-Jarrod had been running around for her sake, making arrangements for the upcoming competition. It was only natural he'd be busy meeting people.

She exhaled quietly, then said, "I heard you weren't home. Maybe we can catch up when you're back?"

"Sure. Focus on your preparations," Jarrod said, his tone as reassuring as ever.

It was like nothing could ever shake him—not even if the sky were falling. That steadiness soothed her nerves.

"I will. Oh, by the way, Jarrod, I was thinking of meeting with Mr. Ferguson more over the next few weeks. If you have time, could you come with me?"

Any opportunity to get more guidance was a good thing.

It wasn't as if you needed to be formally apprenticed to learn from someone great. People like Mr. Ferguson appreciated talent, and if he could help her grow, he wouldn't hold back.

"Of course," Jarrod agreed, his answer relaxed and easy.

Sylvie couldn't help but smile.

After a slight pause, she added with a soft laugh, Jarrod, do you still live at your old place? It always seemsza little awkward to track you down for a chat Would you mind sharing your address, or maybe... a code or something?"

She didn't mention that she'd already come by, or that she'd tried the code and failed.

Jarrod didn't ask where she was, either.

He answered unhurriedly, "I'm usually at the main house. But if you ever need to reach me, you can go to Rosewood Chateau. There's always staff there—they'll know how to contact me."

Sylvie knew Rosewood Chateau well. It was one of Jarrod's mansions-closer to The Silverstein Group headquarters. If he was working late, he'd likely stay there.

When their call ended, she received a follow-up text: the access code for Rosewood Chateau.

Seeing those numbers, Sylvie finally felt her nerves settle.

He wasn't keeping her at arm's length. He'd just given her the code, no hesitation. Of course, she had no intention of actually going-the staff at Rosewood were all picked by the Silverstein family, and if she showed up, word would travel fast. Mrs. Silverstein and the others would know in no time, and she doubted they'd let her visit in peace.

No, she just wanted to test Jarrod's attitude toward her. Ever since she'd returned home, Jarrod and his circle had never put up walls. They admired her, treated her as one of their own-a kindred spirit, someone who belonged in their world.