The car pulled into the Whitaker family estate.
It was Nolan’s mother’s birthday, and we’d originally planned to come back for dinner after everything was finished.
The living room was packed with relatives.
Nolan walked in hand in hand with Brielle, looking every bit like newlyweds. I followed behind them carrying a luxury wellness gift set I’d waited in line to buy the day before.
Nolan’s mother sat at the center of the gathering. The moment she saw Brielle, her face lit up.
“Brielle, come sit next to me.”
She took Brielle’s hand, then unclasped an antique diamond bracelet from her own wrist.
It was a Whitaker family heirloom, traditionally passed down to the family’s daughter-in-law.
In five years of marriage, she’d never once mentioned it to me.
“These diamonds look gorgeous against your skin.”
She fastened the bracelet around Brielle’s wrist.
“If Nolan hadn’t made the wrong choice back then, this would’ve been yours years ago.”
The relatives around her laughed good-naturedly.
I stood just inside the entryway, caught between walking farther in and turning around to leave.
Nolan sat on the couch peeling a mandarin, ignoring every word his mother said.
He didn’t stop her. He didn’t step in for me.
By staying silent, he had given Brielle free rein to humiliate me in his family’s home.
“Mara, why are you still standing there?”
Brielle ran her fingers over the bracelet and looked at me.
“Mrs. Whitaker said she’s been craving your roasted sea bass with lemon and herbs. You should get started in the kitchen.”
I set the gift on the entryway console and headed for the kitchen.
It was warm and stuffy inside.
I tied on an apron and started prepping the sea bass.
For years, almost all of the feedstock Whitaker Group used for Tideweave had come from me. I made it myself, night after sleepless night, pouring everything I had into it.
But to the Whitakers, I was nothing more than a freeloader who sat at home all day and couldn’t even give Nolan a child.
An hour later, I carried out the dinner I’d cooked.
The table was already crowded with upscale takeout containers from the most expensive seafood restaurant downtown.
Brielle had one of Nolan’s credit cards in hand as she directed the household staff to transfer everything onto serving platters.
“Mara, everything you made is so light. Nolan’s been working himself to death lately. He needs something hearty.”
She picked up the roasted sea bass I’d just set down.
Her hand twitched, and the entire plate—fish, juices and all—tipped neatly into the trash beside her.
“Oops. My hand slipped. There wasn’t room on the table anyway.”
She gave a coy little smile.
I stared at the steaming fish in the trash.
Nolan came back from the bathroom and took his seat at the table.
“What happened?”
“I accidentally dropped the fish Mara made.”
Brielle lowered her eyes, looking wounded.
Nolan glanced at the trash, then at me.
“It’s just a fish.”
He placed a piece of king crab on Brielle’s plate.
“At least Brielle pays attention. She knew I’ve been craving seafood.”
Then he turned to me, his tone flat.
“And you. You’re home all day, but somehow your cooking still hasn’t improved. Don’t bother next time.”
I untied my apron and draped it over the back of a chair.
“You two eat. I’m not hungry.”
I went upstairs to the guest room.
Once inside, I sat at the desk and opened my laptop.
An unread email from Whitaker Group’s R&D department was waiting in my inbox.
I opened the attachment.
It was the patent application for the fireproof, waterproof Tideweave technology—the project I’d poured three years of my life into, now on the verge of mass production.
Right there on the application, under Inventor, was Brielle Sutton.
I stared at the screen.
The door opened, and Nolan walked in carrying a glass of warm water.
He came up behind me, glanced at the screen, and set the glass on the desk.
“So you saw it.”
He leaned over the back of my chair.
“Brielle wants to dabble in marine tech. She needs something impressive on her résumé.”
“You’ve been in the field longer. Help her get started. It’s just adding her name.”
With a few casual words, he handed Brielle a share of the credit for three years of my work.