How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Cold sweat poured down Jarrod's back as he bent over, gasping for breath. Warm blood trickled steadily from the wound behind him—he knew the injury was deep, the pain so fierce it felt as if his chest might split open.

Malcom, meanwhile, had been knocked to the ground several times already, nearly vomiting from the force of a kick to his stomach. Still, he scrambled upright, snarling, "Back off! If you come any closer, I'll throw her down right now!"

Jarrod could feel his strength draining away with every heartbeat. He'd been running a high fever for over twenty-four hours and hadn't fully recovered. Now, this wound left his head swimming, the world turning hazy at the edges. But he refused to show any weakness.

Malcom finally tasted a twisted satisfaction at the sight. "Well, well, Mr. Silverstein -never thought I'd see you like this! Consider this payback!" He had come here because he needed something from Jarrod, but that didn't mean he would pass up the chance for revenge.

Jarrod's eyes were icy and remote as he forced himself to stand tall. "Don't hurt her. Whatever you want-I'll give it to you."

Malcom didn't waste time with more threats. He bolted up the stairs, not daring to give Jarrod even a second to regain the upper hand. He knew this man-one slip, and everything could be over.

Jarrod clutched his chest, gulping down air, then forced himself to stagger outside. He needed to make sure Elodie was safe.

From upstairs, Elodie couldn't see what was happening below. She tried to keep her voice steady as she called out, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me-just stay calm, okay?"

She had no idea what a cornered Malcom might do. Her first instinct was to protect Jarrod.

He didn't mention his wound. Drawing a silent, shaky breath, he raised his voice so she could hear: "Don't be afraid, Elodie. Trust me I won't let anything happen

to you."

Malcom had reached the third floor now, his voice shrill and ragged: "I know everything! You destroyed the Harcourt Group! Jarrod, this is what you deserve!"

At those words, Jarrod's expression turned even colder, darker. He'd never intended to reveal the truth-he'd hoped to quietly push Malcom into a corner, destroy the Harcourt family without them ever realizing how. But now, everything was unraveling.

Suddenly, the screech of tires cut through the tension.

Ivan leapt out of his car, his face stricken with rage and fear. "Malcom, are you insane?!"

With everyone assembled, Malcom made his demand: "I want a hundred million dollars and safe passage out of the country. I'm taking her with me-she goes free when I'm safe."

Jarrod could feel the blood soaking his back as he braced himself against the car, eyes locked on Elodie above. He didn't hesitate. “Fine. You'll get everything you want. Just let her go."

As soon as the words left his lips, Jarrod glanced sideways at Ivan, giving him a look that conveyed everything and nothing at once.

Ivan understood immediately. He melted into the shadows, vanishing into the darkness of the upper floors.

His voice floated up, distracting Malcom: "If you want to negotiate, you'd better guarantee her safety. Otherwise, you won't be the only one ruined-no one in the Harcourt family will escape."

Malcom bristled at Ivan's words. That man, who had once needed the Harcourts' support, now dared to threaten him.

Jarrod seized the moment, shifting

the conversation. "That's all you

want? You've already sent everyone

else away? President Harcourt, maybe you should explain your plan how do you want to arrange things?"

As he spoke, Ivan was already moving at lightning speed, slipping quietly into the

building. If he hurried, he could reach the third floor in time.

Malcom, ever cautious, scanned for any sign of Ivan, but saw nothing. His face twisted in panic.

Then, footsteps thundered behind him-quick and deadly.

Elodie's heart froze.

Malcom lost his composure completely. He knew Ivan was strong, and at his own age, he stood no chance in a fight.

Ivan burst through the door, charging straight at Malcom and locking an arm around his neck.

Malcom choked, clawing for breath.

Ivan was out for blood-Malcom could see it in his eyes. Fear and desperation overtook him, and as they struggled, Malcom yanked Ivan toward Elodie, slamming intoher and sending her swinging wildly outward.

The rope holding her slipped from the metal beam.noveldrama

Elodie's eyes flew wide. No sound escaped her lips as she fell her body dropping fast.

In an instant, the rope snagged on an iron bracket outside the second floor, jerking her to a halt. But it couldn't hold—she plunged downward again, swinging violently.

Jarrod watched, every muscle tense, blood pounding in his ears. He ignored the hot flood from his wound, sprinting forward, arms outstretched. “Curl up-cover your head!"

Elodie's mind went blank, but her body reacted. She tucked herself tight, just as she crashed into his waiting arms. He wrapped himself around her, shielding her from the impact as they hit the ground and rotted together, the force knocking them both breathless.

In that moment, Elodie heard him grunt, the sharp scent of blood thick in the air.

Still, he managed to lift a shaking hand, gently cradling her head, trying to keep her from seeing the worst.

Despite the pain screaming in her arm, Elodie twisted desperately to look at him.

"Jarrod!"