Esmeralda immediately switched topics. “Didn’t you just submit your paper? I actually heard some inside news from a friend-turns out Sylvie finally finished hers as well. And rumor has it she submitted to the same top-tier journal. Isn’t that a coincidence?”

Elodie had known that Sylvie had been desperate to get an academician to review her work. Now, suddenly, the paper was done.

And to a top journal, no less?

“I just asked Alex,” Esmeralda continued. “Alex said Sylvie has a real knack for grabbing attention. Her reputation’s been iffy lately, so if she can pull off a solid academic achievement right now, it’s perfect timing.”

Elodie thought for a moment.

She’d only just met with Professor Waldron a few days ago, and now Sylvie’s paper was finished.

Chances were… Mr. Ferguson had helped?

Mr. Ferguson, with his famously prickly temperament-could Jarrod really have convinced him?

Well, Jarrod always did have a talent for picking the perfect moment. This particular timing couldn’t be better.

On the one hand, there were already rumors about an impending engagement. On the other hand, the paper was finished. It was like Jarrod had built Sylvie a staircase to fame and success.

The only thing Elodie couldn’t figure out was whether Jarrod had asked Professor Waldron just to advise on the paper, or if there was some other agenda at play.

“Tch, she’s practically handed you this opportunity on a silver platter. Once both of your papers are published, everyone will see the difference clear as day,” Esmeralda said, utterly confident in Elodie’s abilities. Of course, it was obvious Sylvie thought pretty highly of herself, too.

But Elodie wasn’t arrogant enough to underestimate her competition.

If Sylvie really did get Waldron’s guidance, then her work would be impressive.

Elodie smiled faintly. “I’ll talk to you later, Esme. I’ve got something to take care of.”

Before Esmeralda could respond, Elodie had already ended the call.

The truth was, when it came to being sick especially something as brutal as chemotherapy, when her body was at its weakest and most miserable-Elodie just didn’t want anyone close to her to see. Whether it was to spare them the worry and fear, or to preserve that last scrap of dignity in the face of life and death, she couldn’t say. She was just an ordinary person, with her own private fears, her stubborn pride that might seem laughable to others. She hadn’t even fully accepted her own diagnosis, or the possibility that it might really be hopeless. How could she let her loved ones see her like this? So, for now, she just couldn’t manage to be so open and fearless.

Elodie drew in a long breath.

At the nurse’s gentle reminder, she made her way back into the chemo suite.

It was no different this time.

Her body was fragile, her tolerance low, and the drugs were harsh. The pain was just as bad as ever.

She hadn’t eaten; all she could do was retch up bitter stomach acid.

So the moment she stepped out of the treatment room, she collapsed against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the cold floor, her forehead slick with sweat.

When Elias Warwick stepped off the elevator, he spotted her almost immediately.

She was curled up in a corner, painfully thin and pale.

Elias stopped in his tracks, his gaze zeroing in.

He realized instantly-it was Elodie.

His eyes narrowed, a frown creasing his brow as he strode over to her.

“Ms. Thorne? Are you ill?”

He crouched down beside her and

gently

gazeed her shoulder, but h

drawn, incre

the

sign behind her that read Oncology.