Chapter 1 #2
Something inside me snapped, like an overloaded circuit finally burning out after one too many power surges.
My skin flushed hot, the warmth spreading from my chest to my cheeks, and I felt myself standing taller, no longer willing to shrink away as I had so many times before.
The weight of years of being overlooked and interrupted, of having my expertise reduced to “technical jargon” by people who barely understood what an Eco-Turbine even was all crystallized into sharp-edged clarity.
“But Alyssa,” I finally managed, my voice coming out steadier than I expected, “these are aerospace engineers and defense contractors. They need to see the innovation. The specific efficiency ratings, the fuel consumption numbers, the emissions reductions are what they’re investing in, not?—“
“Not right now, they don’t,” she cut in, that same gentle but firm tone she always used when she knew Patrick was about to take her side.
“Trust me, I just came from their table. They’re already getting bored with the data-heavy pamphlets.
They need vision, not spreadsheets. Patrick,” she turned her full attention back to my husband, her voice dropping an octave into something almost sultry, “the keynote is next. Let me take this. You know I can handle the investors’ expectations. ”
My fingers tightened around my champagne glass, the delicate stem groaning under the pressure as Patrick hesitated, that familiar conflict playing across his features like a well-worn script I knew by heart.
His brow furrowed just slightly at the center, his lips parted as if to speak words that hadn’t quite formed, while his gaze shifted between me and Alyssa with the weight of scales balancing impossible choices.
It was the look that told me he was torn between supporting his wife, the brilliant engineer who had designed the very machine being celebrated tonight, and making what he considered the “right” business decision, and I already knew which side would emerge victorious, as it so often did.
The condensation on my glass suddenly felt like sweat on my palms, slick and cold against my skin, while the champagne itself had grown flat and disappointing in its crystal prison.
Each second of his indecision stretched into an eternity, the ballroom’s ambient music fading to a distant thrum in my ears as I stood trapped in this moment of betrayal that felt both excruciatingly new and tragically familiar, the pattern repeating itself with such predictability that I should have been prepared, yet somehow wasn’t, perhaps because some part of me still hoped that tonight, of all nights, might be different.
“Sadie,” he finally said, turning back to me with what he probably thought was an appeasing smile, but to me felt like another small betrayal, “sweetheart, Alyssa has a point. The Eco-Turbine is your miracle, everyone knows that.” He reached out to squeeze my arm, but the touch that usually comforted me now felt condescending.
“Let her handle the fluff and glitter for the presentation so you don’t have to worry about the media and press.
You can answer any technical questions during Q&A, where you’ll shine. Divide and conquer.”
The words hung in the air between us, each one a tiny pinprick against my dignity.
Divide and conquer. He really had no idea how perfectly he’d described the dynamic between Alyssa and me, how this exact scenario had played out countless times before in smaller, less public ways.
My vision blurred slightly as I stared past Patrick, my champagne glass feeling impossibly heavy in my suddenly numb fingers.
The glittering Seattle skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows distorted into streaks of light and color, mirroring how my reality had just fractured.
Patrick was already turning away, his attention redirected to Alyssa who was practically vibrating with triumphant energy beside him, her crimson dress catching the light as if she’d somehow managed to absorb the spotlight before she’d even stepped onto the stage.
“I’d be happy to, Patrick,” Alyssa was already saying, her smile brilliant and self-satisfied as she reached for his arm, her fingers lingering there just a moment longer than necessary. “You and I make a great team.”
Not once did she look at me. Not once did she acknowledge that this moment, this spotlight, belonged to me by every measure of hard work and innovation.
My creation, my breakthrough, was being repackaged as hers to present.
I felt myself shrinking, becoming invisible in the space between them, as had happened so many times before.
“That’s settled then,” Patrick said with that decisive nod that ended discussions in boardrooms and apparently in marriages, too. “Let’s get ready for the presentation.”
The rest of the gala blurred into a haze of expensive perfume, crystal laughter, and the bitter taste of champagne gone flat in my mouth.
I watched from our table as Alyssa glided across the stage, her confidence unmistakable, her hand brushing Patrick’s arm in a gesture that looked almost proprietary to the audience. My audience.
“She’s really something, isn’t she?” A venture capitalist from a competing firm leaned toward me, his eyes fixed on Alyssa like she was the main attraction at a circus. “The way she commands the room... She has incredible presence for someone in PR.”
My nails dug into my palms under the table, crescent-shaped impressions forming in my skin. “Yes,” I said flatly, unable to muster any enthusiasm. “She has a way of taking over spaces.”
I didn’t care if he heard the edge in my voice or misinterpreted the statement.
My attention remained fixed on the stage, where Alyssa was now fielding questions about the Eco-Turbine that I had designed.
Her answers were polished, eloquent, and frustratingly vague on technical details.
She was painting my creation in broad, impressive strokes that impressed people who didn’t understand the mechanics behind it, while the intricate beauty of what I had built remained invisible.
When it finally ended, after applause that sounded too loud in my ears, Patrick guided me toward the exit, his hand warm on my lower back. “You’ll have them lining up to fund us, Sadie. Tonight was perfect.”
I barely heard him as we slipped into our chauffeured car, the door closing with a soft thud that felt like a guillotine falling on what should have been my greatest professional triumph.
The leather seats enveloped me in cool indifference, their smooth surface dissimilar to the rough crescents my nails had carved into my palms earlier.
Outside, the Seattle lights blurred through the tinted windows, streaks of gold and silver that might have looked beautiful on any other night, but now seemed like mocking reflections of the spotlight I’d been denied.
“Patrick,” I began as we pulled away from the venue, my voice strained, “you can’t keep doing that. Alyssa keeps inserting herself into my projects, taking credit?—“
He laughed, that rich, warm sound I normally loved, but tonight it grated.
“Oh, come on, sweetheart. She was just being a team player. You know how these things go. It’s never just about the technical details.
You got your recognition among the people who matter, like the engineers and innovators.
The investors need someone who can speak their language of risk and profit. That’s her specialty.”
“That’s my specialty too,” I insisted, turning to face him in the dim interior of the car. “I’ve been studying aerospace business management alongside my engineering. I could’ve done that presentation in my sleep.”
“But why put yourself through that stress?” Patrick’s hand moved to my cheek, his thumb brushing gently across my skin.
“Let her handle the flash and the press so you can focus on what you love: the actual work. Isn’t that what you want?
To spend your time with your planes and your designs rather than glad-handing investors? ”
He was twisting my own desires into a justification, making it sound like he was doing me a favor by allowing my work to be presented by someone else.
The worst part was the genuine affection in his eyes, as if he truly believed he was protecting me from something unpleasant.
I watched his thumb trace the line of my jaw, that tender gesture that once made me feel cherished now feeling like a cage of condescension.
The leather of the car seats seemed to tighten around me like a corset, constricting my breathing as Patrick’s words settled heavily in the confined space between us.
Outside the tinted windows, Seattle’s glittering skyline blurred into meaningless streaks of gold and silver, like tears falling in slow motion across glass, much like the ones I was fighting back in the dim interior of our luxury vehicle.
His gaze held nothing but sincere love mixed with what he saw as practical wisdom, making this particular brand of betrayal somehow more painful than intentional malice.
I looked away, staring at the passing city lights. “Sometimes I wonder whose side you’re on,” I muttered, more to myself than to him.
“Always yours, sweetheart,” he responded instantly, leaning over to kiss my temple. “Always. Alyssa just... She understands the corporate dance better than you do. That’s all. She’s helping you, even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.”
The car continued its journey through the city, the soft hum of the engine a world away from the turbulence in my mind, and I wondered, not for the first time, how Patrick could be so perceptive in boardrooms yet so completely oblivious to the war being waged between his wife and her stepsister, or if perhaps the blindness was more willful than he cared to admit.