Elodie’s leisurely pace slowed as she caught snippets of conversation nearby.

She frowned, surprised she couldn’t even take a walk without overhearing Jarrod and his friends outside, smoking and chatting.

Then Maurice mentioned the nursery.

From the moment she and Jarrod had moved into their townhouse after the wedding, the floor plan had been set: the third floor was Jarrod’s domain—his study, home gym, and a sitting room for entertaining guests. The second floor belonged to their bedroom, and Elodie had a small office and walk-in closet of her

own.

Not once had they discussed setting up a nursery. Even after years of marriage, Jarrod had never brought up having children. In fact, he’d always seemed indifferent, content to postpone the topic indefinitely.

Now, suddenly, he’d gutted their marital home to redesign it-complete with a nursery.

She could only assume he’d finally found true love.

If even a man like Jarrod could change, anything was possible.

Elodie didn’t bother walking over to hear more. She turned calmly and headed upstairs, unconcerned with what Jarrod’s answer might be.

As soon as she stepped into her room, her phone rang. It was her grandmother, Rosemary, asking about her plans for tomorrow’s birthday.

Elodie blinked in surprise—she’d nearly forgotten her own birthday was so soon. She hesitated, unsure of how she wanted to celebrate, and told Rosemary she’d decide once she finished her work.

The next morning, before heading downstairs, Elodie organized a printed summary of her analysis-Mr. Charlie Sterling preferred paper to anything digital.

Just as she stepped out of the elevator, she caught a message from Esmeralda Mercer: Happy birthday! The gift’s ready-she’d give it to Elodie when she returned to Eldermere.

Elodie smiled to herself, pocketed her phone, and started walking.

But someone, pushing a luggage cart out of the elevator behind her, accidentally clipped her arm. She stumbled, dropping her bag and files all over the floor.

The person immediately apologized.

“It’s fine,” Elodie said with a wave, not the least bit bothered, and bent down to pick up her things.

Before she could gather them, a pair of long legs stepped into view and someone crouched down to help her.

Naylor glanced at one of the documents he’d picked up. He froze, brow furrowing.

When Elodie realized it was Naylor, her lips pressed into a thin line. Annoyance flickered across her face as she quickly snatched her papers and bag away from him.

Naylor caught her reaction. Honestly, he hadn’t even realized it was Elodie at first —he’d just seen someone in need of help. Had he known, he wouldn’t have bothered.

Now, catching the cool irritation in her eyes, he frowned. “Ms. Thorne, is this how you thank someone who’s trying to help?”

Elodie tucked the papers away, her gaze chilly. “Sometimes, unsolicited help only makes things more complicated for others.”

She couldn’t be bothered to argue. Turning away, she strode off.

Naylor watched her go, face darkening with irritation. What was with this woman and her bizarre temper?

Still…

He replayed what he’d glimpsed in those documents and couldn’t help but be impressed. The level of professionalism was far beyond what he’d expected. How on earth did Elodie have something like that in her hands? He frowned, deep in thought.

“Mr. Whitaker?”

Sylvie emerged from the elevator behind him and called his name with a polite smile.

Naylor snapped out of his daze, glanced at her, and managed a smile. “Where’s Mr. Silverstein?”

“He went ahead of me. He’s waiting outside,” Sylvie replied, smiling.

Naylor hesitated. “You two staying together?”

Sylvie lifted an eyebrow, her smile enigmatic, and didn’t answer.