When Jared hugged me, all I could think about was how another woman had been in his arms and how her perfume still lingered on him.


    My body stiffened before I could stop it. I stepped back quickly, then turned and fled to my bedroom.


    Since our daughter was born, Jared and I had maintained separate bedrooms. He only visited mine when he wanted sex. Most nights, he slept alone in the guest room, leaving me the master suite to myself.


    I didn’t care whether my rejection wounded him. I remained in my room until dinner called me downstairs.


    Downstairs, I found Jared helping Yvonne feed her pony. When Wendy announced dinner, they washed up and took their ces at the table.


    “Dad,” Yvonne whined the instant she saw me, clutching Jared’s arm, “Mom hasn’t made fried meatballs in forever. Can you make her cook some now?<b>” </b>


    Jared met my eyes<b>. </b><b>“</b>Yvonne’s begging for your meatballs. Feel like making some?”


    Wendy stood beside the dining table, her eyes darting between the spread of dishes she’d just prepared and my indifferent expression.


    “I’m not cooking tonight,” I said tly, not moving from my chair. “There’s more than enough food here.”


    “I won’t eat any of this,” Yvonne announced, crossing her arms stubbornly. “I only want Mom’s meatballs.”


    Jared knew Yvonne’s eating habits all too well—the aversion to spices and the limited pte. I’d spent years coaxing just <i>a </i>few bites into her. <ul><li></li></ul>


    These days, Wendy made three separate dishes at every meal just for her. Yet here she was, stillining. I figured this was her revenge for me bringing up those rules.


    “Actually, meatballs sound good,” Jared said, taking her side as usual. “Why don’t you whip some up?”


    I nearlyughed out loud. “Darling,” I asked, “do you have any clue how long proper meatballs take to make?”


    “At least thirty minutes,” Wendy added helpfully. “And that’s before all the kneading to get the texture just right.”


    “That long?” Jared looked surprised. “I figured it would take five minutes.”


    Seeing Jared’s reaction, Yvonne pouted. “Dad, I only want meatballs. If Mom won’t make them, I’m not eating tonight.”


    “Then don’t eat.” My patience was wearing thin.


    She knew exactly how to manipte me. These outrageous demands had worked every time before, so she assumed persistence would make me give in again. But this time, I refused to y along.


    Jared rubbed his temples. “Just eat something,” he said wearily. “We’ll grab burgerster if you’re still hungry.”


    Yvonne made a show of sighing before dragging her spoon through her food. “Fine.”


    I finished my meal in silence and retreated upstairs. Let them figure out their own drama–<b>I </b>was done for the night.


    The tension from yesterday carried into the morning. I ignored Yvonne, and she returned the favor with icy silence until Jared whisked her off to school.


    I got to the office a little after ten. My first order of business was finding someone to draft the new project’s blueprints–not like I was short on work. If anything, my te was full.


    Jared had always treated me like just a housewife, never taking my abilities seriously. But when he saw how swiftly I jumped into action, his eyes took on a new, measuring look.


    Tracy had amanding presence in thepany’s big decisions, and everyone fell in line under her. Jared trusted her judgmentpletely and backed every call she made.