My sister’s son hurled a dinner fork at me and declared, “Mom says you’re basically the help.” The table erupted in laughter. I was gone before dessert ever reached the plates.

“She structured a private mortgage for us,” Jessica continued. “We’ve been paying her, not a bank. This house—our house—is legally Nina’s house.”

She gestured around. The walls. The ceiling. The place everyone had admired.

“Every time you’ve complimented me on this home,” she said, voice trembling, “you were complimenting something Nina gave us. And I let you believe I earned it. I liked the way it made me look.”

Her eyes shone with tears.

“And I hated that I needed her,” she admitted. “So I pretended she was less. I pretended she was… beneath us. I taught my kid to disrespect her.”

Aiden’s face flushed bright red.
“I’m sorry,” Jessica said to me, voice cracking. “I’m sorry for humiliating you, for using you, for making you the villain. You didn’t deserve it. You never did.”She sat down slowly, wiping her cheeks.

The room stayed silent.

Then Aiden pushed his chair back and stood.

“Aiden—” Jessica started, startled.

He walked around the table toward me, feet scuffing, shoulders hunched.

“Mom said I have to say sorry,” he mumbled.