How a Dying Woman Rewrote Her Epilogue

Chapter 307 The military's requirements for this project were even more demanding than before.

Over the next two days, Elodie and Alexander found themselves locked in a series of long, intense meetings. They dissected every practical detail from every angle-rescue operations, disaster response, and how this would differ from standard consumer or even advanced models. Everything-payload, navigation systems, battery life- needed to be taken to a whole new level of reliability.

Once they had a rough concept outlined, it was tto move things forward with Neural Intelligence.

Elodie took Galen along for a visit to Neural Intelligence's headquarters. This was her first tthere, and she needed to coordinate with their team.

Neural Intelligence had already hit its stride; the company ran like a well-oiled machine. It wasn't until she was standing inside the vast lobby that Elodie truly understood the scale of it all. Money had been poured into every inch-this place could compete with any longstanding tech firm in the city.

With someone like Jarrod backing it, getting Sylvie's startup off the ground had probably been child's play. Elodie and Galen met with one of the department heads. By the tthey finished and made their way back downstairs, it was already past ten.

Galen headed out to bring the car around. Elodie sent Emile Thorne a quick message, letting him know she'd be joining him for dinner that evening.

As soon as she hit send and lifted her head, she spotted Seymour coming around the corner not far away. He saw her too, and immediately stopped in his tracks.

Without so much as a glance, Elodie strode right past him. Seymour's face twisted with a complicated expression. He'd half been planning to say hello-after all, they'd worked together for several months-but as he watched her walk away, he just shrugged carelessly. Neural Intelligence had a boundless future ahead, and he was simply looking out for himself.

Sylvie caught sight of the scene as she approached in her heels. "Were you just coordinating with her?" she asked, her voice cool and detached.

Seymour shook his head quickly. "No, just bumped into her. I was meeting with someone else." Sylvie cast a sideways glance in Elodie's direction, then turned and headed for the elevators, Seymour following close behind.

"You worked at VistaLink Technologies," Sylvie said, flipping through a folder as she walked. "How well do you know Elodie? Mr. Sterling seems to think highly of her." Seymour hesitated before replying, "Mr. Sterling has always looked out for Ms. Thorne..." Ms. Thorne? Sylvie's brow furrowed almost instantly.

Seymour hurried to explain, "That recent VistaLink Technologies project, the one that secured so much outside investment-people in the industry were surprised the funding was secured so quickly. Actually, it was Ms. Thorne who put up the money herself." "All of it?" "Yes, five hundred million. Out of her own pocket." Realization dawned on Sylvie. No wonder VistaLink Technologies could secure funding so fast. No wonder Elodie had been abruptly removed from the project leadership team, and no wonder she now acted with such authority on the military project. She'd bought her way in.

That also explained Alexander's polite attitude toward Elodie, even letting her take center stage at the bidding meetings. It was all about the money-not Elodie's abilities.

Still... in Sylvie's mind, Elodie was just a paper tiger.

Sylvie snapped the folder shut, her face barely changing, but a cold, silent laugh played at the corners of her mouth. "That makes sense," she said with quiet derision.

She'd been baffled by Alexander's interest in Elodie, even wondering how a man like him could possibly care about her, or even "like" her. Now it was clear-Elodie simply didn't have the skills, so she used money to make up the difference. She was buying her way in.

Seymour, missing the subtext, asked, "President Fielding, what do you mean?" Sylvie glanced down at her phone, sending Jarrod a message to meet for lunch. She barely paused when Seymour spoke again.

After all, where had Elodie gotten that much capital? The answer was obvious-it must have cfrom Jarrod. Still not divorced, and she's already spending Jarrod's money as if she were Mrs. Silverstein. The thought left a sour taste in Sylvie's mouth.

Seymour, seeing Sylvie's silence, considered adding that Elodie had actually led the VistaLink Technologies project's development. But just as he was about to speak, the elevator doors chimed.

Sylvie stepped inside without another word, making it clear she'd lost interest. Seymour hesitated, then decided to keep his thoughts to himself.

Elodie wrapped up work early that afternoon and made her way to the hospital around four. Emile's condition had been holding steady, and he was already undergoing pre-op treatment.

She'd barely arrived when Dr. Latham cby on his rounds. "Don't worry," he assured her, "Mr. Thorne's numbers are all looking good lately." Emile added, "I'm feeling much better-the chemo's working." "When's the surgery scheduled?" Elodie asked.

Dr. Latham thought for a moment. "Middle of next month, once everything's stable."

Elodie nodded thoughtfully. She @fath herself would be undergoing a full hysterectomy soon, so getting Emile settled first would free up tto take care of her uncle. She checked the time, hesitated, then finally asked, "Is Dr. Warwick in today?" Dr. Latham shook his head. "Not at this hour-he's been swamped lately, lots of grad students under his wing. Did you need him for something?" Elodie just shrugged it off. "No, it can wait."

She stayed to have dinner with Emile, keeping him company well into the tv evening it was after eight when she finally made her way down to the parking garage.

She'd just started her car when a sudden screech of brakes echoed ext through the garage, the sound m painfully sharp. A car cbarreling hard out of nowhere. Elodie's pulse stuttered as she glimpsed a figure darting across the concrete. She frowned, threw the car into reverse, and spun the wheel, cutting sharply across the lane to block the oncoming vehicle.

Rolling down her window, she asked, voice crisp and direct, "Do you need help?"