How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 506
Read How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue Chapter 506
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Reading Novel How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue Chapter 506
Chapter 506 novel How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue
Selma looked pale, her face drained of color, but her expression remained dark and troubled.
Sylvie wasn’t faring much better.
The day’s events had spiraled so far out of control that she genuinely didn’t know how to clean up the mess.
“I just don’t get it. How did everything fall apart so suddenly…?”
Selma drew a shaky breath, her eyes rimmed red with frustration.
The reputation and standing she’d spent years building had crumbled in a single afternoon, and she simply couldn’t accept it.
Elodie had shown up—not to support them, but to cause a scene.
And even the painting they’d gifted Patricia as a gesture of goodwill had turned into a knife pointed at their backs.
“What happened with that painting?” Sylvie’s voice was colder than usual, the unfamiliar edge betraying her own turmoil. Maybe if she sounded detached, she could keep her emotions in check.
Selma squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ve always kept ‘Extinction’ close to me. Even you didn’t know I had it. A while ago, I decided to put it away in the gallery, locked up and out of sight, since no one knew about it. But… somehow, Beverly ended up sorting through it.”
She’d kept ‘Extinction’ in its own locked room.
She’d never even told Beverly to go near that door.
So how had Patricia just happened to stumble in there?
Why, of all days, had this happened the one time she’d let her guard down?
Sylvie pressed her lips together, glancing at Selma. “Why did you insist on keeping that painting? If you’d just gotten rid of it back then—”
Selma’s face changed instantly, her eyes flashing with something sharp. “Because I had to prove I was better than Winifred!”
Years ago, Winifred had outshone her with ‘Dwelling’ and ‘Extinction’. Selma’s scholarship dreams had evaporated, and she’d never managed to catch up to Winifred—the golden girl who had every advantage from birth.
If they’d started from the same place, maybe things would’ve been different.
Sylvie stared at her mother, sudden understanding dawning.
The painting was her demon, her obsession.
She’d kept it even though it was dangerous, unable to let go of the injustice of her loss.
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