How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue novel Chapter 570

The moment her finger hovered over the call button, Sylvie caught herself and abruptly tossed her phone aside. She bent over, running a shaky hand through her hair, trying to steady her nerves.

She kept hoping Jarrod would swoop in and fix things, just like he always had. No matter how messy things got, he’d always managed to bail her out before. But this time, he hadn’t come to get her. He hadn’t even called.

Her pride and panic tugged her in opposite directions, leaving her restless and unsettled.

Still, she clung to hope.

Jarrod would help her. He had to.

She wanted him to reach out first, to care enough to check on her, not to see her at her weakest, desperately begging for help. She knew Jarrod wouldn’t necessarily want to see her fall apart. She had to hold out, make him worry about her first.

“I’ll try to handle it myself. If Jarrod sees I’m struggling, he’ll step in,” Sylvie whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, forcing herself to believe it.

But Selma was beside herself, her voice trembling with anger. “You know perfectly well this can’t be fixed! Elodie accused you of plagiarism right on camera—she’s out for blood, and she’s not going to stop until you’re ruined. That woman’s always had it in for you!”

After years of careful planning, Selma had groomed Sylvie to climb the social ladder, and it was finally within reach.

Now everything was crashing down.

How could she not be furious? Not feel betrayed?

Sylvie’s reputation was in tatters among the city’s elite. Every escape route—marriage, career, her future—all of it was now blocked off.

Sylvie’s face was pale as she muttered, “I’ll… try to talk to Mr. Ferguson. If he’s willing to explain things for me, maybe there’s a chance this won’t get any worse.”

After all, Waldron had once planned to bring her into his circle; surely he’d feel some sympathy for her.

She couldn’t sit back and do nothing any longer.

If she did, she’d be finished.

But when Sylvie arrived at the Ferguson estate, she didn’t even make it past the gate.

The security guard gave her a curt message: “Mr. Ferguson says to consider yourselves strangers. Please leave.”

Waldron’s message couldn’t have been clearer.