Elodie made a trip back to the old Rosemary estate.

The old lady was in great spirits, bustling around the kitchen to whip up several dishes-all of Elodie’s favorites.

By the time their conversation began, Elodie’s plate was already stacked high, a mountain of food she couldn’t help but laugh at. Still, she didn’t want to disappoint Rosemary. Even though her appetite wasn’t what it used to be, she made an effort to taste everything, bite by bite.

After the meal, Elodie stayed to chat with Rosemary for a while, then decided to spend the night.

She pulled out the books she’d planned to read, diving right back into her studies without missing a beat. She was nothing if not methodical: efficient, organized, always finding time to work on her research papers.

Charlie would occasionally drop in to check her progress, which only made Elodie more diligent.

The disaster relief project proposal she was responsible for would take time to develop and prove. Even her downtime was squeezed dry, leaving little room for leisure.

Monday arrived.

Just after wrapping up a meeting on mechanical structure design, Esmeralda burst into Elodie’s office, grabbed a bottle of sparkling water from the fridge, and sprawled out on the sofa. She chugged down half the bottle in one go, finally cooling off a little.

“You’ll never guess who I saw at a gala last night,” she announced. “The Mercer family was invited, and who walks in but Sylvie and her mother. They’re already rubbing elbows with the social elite, acting like they own the place!”

Elodie set down her pen and looked up. “You didn’t get into any trouble, did you?”

Esmeralda pointed at herself. “Me? I kept my cool. But honestly, Jarrod is playing the game well. He organized a solo exhibition for Selma, personally invited all the industry bigwigs, and now he’s helping the Fielding family climb the ranks. The man is nothing if not thorough.”

She handed Elodie her phone, showing her a post from a charity’s official account.

Selma’s art show had put ten paintings up for sale, bringing in over half a million dollars-all of it donated.

Elodie glanced at the screen before handing the phone back, quietly impressed at how Selma was seizing every opportunity to boost her own profile and maximize her value.

“Does she sell her paintings privately?” Elodie asked.

Esmeralda shook her head. “Not anymore. Selma’s all about exclusivity now, branding herself as a high-end artist. She only sells during her exhibitions, no private sales. She’s already announced her next show for six months from now- talk about upping her game.”

This time, everything had gone to charity. But when the next big commercial show rolled around, with her newfound prestige, those two would be raking it in.

“Neural Intelligence is on a roll too,” Esmeralda continued. “A friend of mine in the industry says companies are lining up to partner with them. Who knows how long before they start throwing their weight around with us at VistaLink Technologies.”

Elodie lowered her gaze, thinking it through.

Jarrod’s high-profile support had cemented Sylvie’s status in everyone’s eyes-no one would dare underestimate her now. Not only had he helped Selma network with the upper crust through the art show, he’d used the charity angle to boost both Selma’s reputation and Neural Intelligence’s national profile.

In every sense, they had set themselves up as VistaLink’s rivals.

Elodie finished signing the last document and shrugged off the threat. “It’s fine. Connections matter, but the quality of our work matters more. Focusing on what we do best is better than worrying about someone else.”

That was something she’d learned since her illness.

With time and energy in short supply, she’d rather devote herself to things that truly mattered.