Elodie caught the faint, familiar scent she knew down to her bones. Weak and startled, she lifted her head and met Jarrod’s dark, unreadable eyes.

He looked at her with a near-expressionless face, his gaze so cold it made her want to sink through the floor. For a moment, it almost felt as if she’d done something on purpose—as if all this was her own design.

“Sorry,” she muttered through clenched teeth, trying to push herself upright. Sweat prickled at her brow, pain rolling over her in sickening waves, leaving her limbs heavy and useless.

“Do you need me to carry you?” Jarrod’s voice was cool and detached, like a stranger observing from a distance.

Elodie realized the eyes trained on her had shifted, their scrutiny sharpened. It was as if they all thought she was putting on a show-choosing the most powerful man in the room to perform for.

“Ms. Thorne, his girlfriend is right there. Are your arms and legs suddenly useless?” Maurice sneered, not bothering to keep his voice down.

Sylvie watched Elodie with an aloof smile, clearly amused by the whole spectacle, not the least bit ruffled.

Joseph, however, frowned. He could tell something seemed genuinely wrong with Elodie.

Just as he started to speak, Maurice suddenly exclaimed, “Sylvie! Did you get burned?”

The words barely left his mouth when Elodie felt a sudden, forceful shove at her lower back. She was pulled aside so roughly that she had to cling to the table to keep from collapsing.

Jarrod was already turning away to check on Sylvie, a rare crease forming between his brows. “You got burned?”

Sylvie lifted her arm, revealing a red mark on her pale skin. She glanced at Elodie, then shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m not one to make a fuss.”

Elodie didn’t miss the flash of concern on Jarrod’s face-but it was for another woman. She looked away, forcing herself to stay upright.

“Are you really not feeling well?” Joseph appeared in front of her, concern flickering across his handsome face. “Do you need help—”

But Elodie could barely hear him. Darkness closed in around the edges of her vision, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath her feet.

“Elodie!”

Voices called her name, but she couldn’t make out who they belonged to before she slipped into unconsciousness.

Alexander was at her side in an instant. He scooped her up and rushed toward the exit, his face thunderous with worry.

The room erupted into chaos.

Joseph drew back the hand he’d reached out to steady her.

Jarrod’s eyes lingered on the door long after Alexander had gone, his sharp features clouded with an unreadable depth.

Noticing his distraction, Sylvie hesitated for just a moment. Then understanding dawned: Elodie had all but thrown herself at Jarrod in front of everyone, no doubt hoping to force their relationship into the open. Sylvie figured Jarrod was just as shocked by Elodie’s audacity.

“What was that about?” Maurice muttered, frowning. “Sylvie’s right here, and she just lunges at him like that?”

“She’s probably faking it,” Maurice added, sounding dismissive. “Jarrod ignored her, left her with no way out. Now Alexander’s all worked up-she’s more cunning than I thought.”

Sylvie said nothing. Part of her agreed with Maurice: maybe Elodie really was playing some twisted game. She’d tried to kill two birds with one stone, but Jarrod hadn’t bitten-Alexander, on the other hand, had taken the bait.

Joseph, still lost in thought, suddenly spoke up. “She wasn’t faking.”

Now Maurice and Sylvie both looked at him.

Even Jarrod glanced over, just for a second.

Meeting Jarrod’s questioning look, Joseph remembered what Elodie had said to him outside the restroom earlier her blunt, “I don’t like you.” He felt a wave of irritation for reasons he couldn’t name.

“I saw her outside half an hour ago,” Joseph said. “She looked pale even then. She’s sick.”

Sylvie frowned.

Maurice hesitated, then muttered, “Out of everyone here, she just happened to stumble onto Jarrod?”

“Joseph, what’s gotten into you? Since when do you care about Elodie?”

Joseph shot Jarrod a strange look. “I’m just stating the facts.”

Jarrod, for his part, barely reacted. After that initial, subtle shift, he showed no

concern at all-not a flicker of worry for Elodie.

He turned to Sylvie instead. “Does it still hurt where you got burned?”

Sylvie felt his attention on her and smiled. “It’s fine.”

Joseph frowned, an uneasy feeling rising in his chest.

Alexander carried Elodie straight to the ER.

Her fever was already 102.6°F. When she finally woke, Alexander was beside her, laptop in hand, working as he kept vigil.

“You’re awake,” he said, closing the screen. “They ran a blood panel. The doctor said a lot of your numbers are off. What the hell have you been doing to yourself?”

Elodie tensed, but when Alexander didn’t seem alarmed, she realized they hadn’t found anything suspicious. “I’m fine. Just caught a chill and it turned into a fever.” Alexander looked at her pale face, a storm of worry and anger in his eyes. “You really thought he was worth throwing away three years of your life?”