Chapter 5
SADIE
The lights were dimmed as I worked, the hum of the Eco-Turbine production lines behind me like a constant heartbeat.
The past few days had been grueling. After the board meeting disaster with Alyssa and her slick little campaign proposal, I had thrown myself into overseeing the fine-tuning of the Turbine.
The work on the production floor grounded me, giving me focus and control, two things I felt slipping away in other parts of my life.
My hands were still stained with grease and oil, the kind of dirt I didn’t mind, the kind of work I knew inside out.
As the shifts wound down for the night, I decided to review the latest Eco-Turbine report.
The data was promising. Efficiency was exceeding projections by almost six percent.
It was a feat of engineering, a win for everyone who had contributed.
I smiled to myself, remembering the first time I had sketched out the concept, the sleepless nights in Patrick’s office when he had believed in my vision even before it was fully realized.
I could already see the press releases lining up, praising the ingenuity that had gone into this machine.
With the shift over, I walked back to my office to submit my notes and clear the final technical reports for tomorrow’s morning briefing.
My footsteps echoed down the corridor, the only sound breaking the building’s evening stillness as the last workers had already departed.
When I sat down at my computer, the leather of my executive chair still warm from earlier in the day, an email from the PR department had just come through with a subject line that made my chest tighten.
The glowing screen reflected the weariness etched around my eyes as my finger hovered over the mouse, hesitating before I clicked to open the message that felt ominously heavy with potential betrayal.
“Eco-Turbine: Final Draft Press Release”
The cursor trembled slightly over the attachment icon, my pulse echoing in the sudden silence of the office.
Each tap of my finger against the trackpad felt heavy, weighted by a premonition I couldn’t quite shake.
The attachment opened, filling my screen with the official Holbrook Aviation letterhead at the top—clean, crisp, and entirely devoid of my name.
I’d expected to see “Designed by Sadie Holbrook, Lead Aviation Engineer” positioned proudly beneath the headline, where it rightfully belonged.
Instead, my heart hammered against my ribs as my eyes raced across the page, my initial unease curdling into full-blown disbelief at the glaring omission, the deliberate erasure of my contribution to the very machine pulsing with life just floors below.
Nowhere in the polished corporate prose was there even a single mention of my contribution.
Instead, it credited “the Holbrook executive team, with a vision brought to life by PR Executive Alyssa Fletcher.” She was the face of the Eco-Turbine launch.
Not the lead engineer who had spent years refining every detail, but a glorified corporate mouthpiece.
A tremor of anger ran through me, and before I knew it, I was already on my feet, grabbing the printout of the release as though holding it in my hand made the insult more tangible, the injustice impossible to ignore.
My shoes squeaked against the marble floor as I rushed out, my mind a storm of fury and hurt.
I reached Patrick’s office, barely registering the fact that I hadn’t knocked before throwing open the door.
Patrick sat behind his desk, the soft light from his computer screen illuminating the sharp lines of his face.
Alyssa was there too, leaning casually against the bookshelf, her arms crossed as she watched me with mild interest. I felt my stomach twist further at the sight of her, the smugness radiating off her like an aura I wanted to punch straight through.
“What is this?” My voice shook as I held up the paper.
My finger jabbed at the words on the page, the paper crinkling under my trembling grasp as I stared at Patrick, trying to hold back the rising tide of anger.
“How did this happen without any input from me?” I didn’t wait for an answer before turning on Alyssa, my eyes blazing with accusation, each word edged with a raw intensity.
“Why is your name on the design credit, Alyssa? This is my work. My engine.”
Patrick’s brow furrowed, confusion momentarily clouding his expression before the familiar irritation surfaced.
His fingers steepled in front of him, elbows resting on the polished wood desk as if preparing for a debate he was already tired of having.
“Sadie, calm down. What are you talking about?” He reached for the press release, scanning it quickly, while Alyssa watched, her eyes narrowing slightly, but otherwise remaining unnervingly composed.
I could see her brain already spinning, crafting an explanation that would deflect any real responsibility.
“My name isn’t on this, Patrick,” I said through gritted teeth. The room seemed to shrink around me, the walls pressing in as my frustration mounted. “She’s listed as the visionary. Alyssa writes a press release and she gets credit for my engine? That’s unacceptable.”
“I didn’t do it to hurt you,” Alyssa said softly, her voice dripping with false innocence.
Her lips pressed into a sympathetic pout, but her eyes remained cold, calculating.
“The investors wanted to see a face they recognized, someone who could represent the company on a larger stage. I thought it made sense to position me as the lead spokesperson.”
A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “You thought it made sense? You decided that without consulting me? This isn’t a spokesperson role. This is about design attribution. You’re stealing credit for work you didn’t do.”
Alyssa pushed away from the bookshelf, standing fully upright now, her posture shifting subtly as she prepared to play her favorite card: victimhood.
“I’m just doing my job. You know how the media is.
They want a story. You didn’t want to be part of it, Sadie.
You always back out of the press stuff, so I stepped in to help. ”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. None of that was true.
The lie hung between us in the air, thick and suffocating like smoke from a poorly extinguished fire.
I never shied away from my work. I simply didn’t want to play the polished corporate game she thrived on.
That was a world of lip service and hollow promises, not substance.
A realm where facades mattered more than foundations, where the superficial sheen of a presentation trumped the intricate mechanics working beneath the surface.
I had spent years wrestling with equations and material limitations, with late nights fueled by cheap coffee and an obsession with perfection, only to have it reduced to something anyone could claim as their own.
My fingers remembered the burn of solder, my back recalled the hours bent over blueprints, my mind held every calculation that had made this breakthrough possible.
All of it, the struggle, the innovation, the quiet pride, was being recast by her into something trivial, something to be handled by someone else with prettier hands and a more practiced smile.
Patrick sighed, the sound heavy and resigned, and set the press release aside.
His gaze shifted between the two of us, his patience clearly wearing thin, a vein in his temple beginning to pulse visibly beneath his skin.
“Sadie, let’s not make this bigger than it needs to be.
The engineers on your team know you’re the one who designed it.
The credit’s there where it counts.” He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture I knew meant he thought I was being irrational.
“This isn’t something to get upset about.
It’s a PR thing, not a personal attack.”
“No, you really don’t get it, do you?” My voice shook as my heart pounded, each beat echoing in my ears like a war drum.
“This isn’t about some petty credit. This is about respect.
Alyssa is deliberately trying to erase me from a project I poured everything into.
” I jabbed my finger again, this time directing my rage fully at Alyssa.
“She knows what she’s doing. This was calculated.
She’s been doing this from the start, undermining me every chance she gets, making herself indispensable in your eyes while making me look like I’m uncooperative. ”
Alyssa’s expression darkened, though her voice remained steady.
“That’s not fair, Sadie. I’ve done nothing but support you and help get your work the attention it deserves.
You’re just insecure because I’m more comfortable in this world than you are.
It’s always been like that, ever since we were kids. ”
The mention of our past, the subtle dig about how she had always outshone me in our blended-family, hit too close to home.
Her words stung like acid, reopening old wounds I thought I had long since buried.
The same rivalry, the same feeling of being overshadowed, it had all resurfaced with more intensity since she started working at Holbrook, as if my childhood had been placed under a microscope for her to exploit once more.
Her voice echoed memories of stolen toys, stolen friends, stolen glances from our parents, a lifetime pattern of her claiming whatever caught my interest.