Chapter 9 · I Signed the Divorce First

My hand stopped. "Who posted it?"

"It was anonymous. But the way it was worded made it sound like whoever posted it knew you," Rachel said.

It had to be Emily. She worked in media and PR. She was probably in more group chats than I could count.

"Will it affect my interview today?" I asked.

"Victoria doesn't hang around in those kinds of groups." Rachel shook her head. "But if it spreads, there'll always be people who gossip about it. Just be prepared for that."

"I am."

I wasn't afraid of what people said. I'd heard enough of it over the past four years.

Rachel was about to say something else when her phone rang. She answered and listened for a few seconds. Her expression changed. "Okay, got it."

She hung up and looked at me. "Victoria's meeting is running over. She said...she probably won't have time to meet you this afternoon."

I gripped my phone a bit tighter. "When can I meet her?"

"She said she'll see how things go and try to schedule something tomorrow or the day after." Rachel looked at me apologetically. "Evelyn, don't worry. It's not because of you.

"She really is busy. She's preparing a pitch for a major project."

I nodded. "It's fine. I'll wait."

"Actually," Rachel said, as if she'd remembered something. "Why don't you head home for now, and I'll—"

Before she could finish, her phone rang again. She answered, listened for a couple of seconds, then raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

She looked at me. "Victoria says her meeting is ending early. She has 15 minutes. Can you go over now?"

I stood up. "Let's go."

*****

Rachel hurried me down the hallway and all the way to the end.

Around the corner was a large office enclosed by glass walls. The door was open. A woman was sitting inside.

Victoria Lane was younger than I'd expected. She looked to be in her late thirties, with short hair, barely any makeup, a white shirt, and gray wide-leg pants. She had a clean, polished look about her.

"Ms. Lane, here she is," Rachel said.

Victoria stood up. "Evelyn Shaw, right?" She shook my hand firmly.

"Hi," I replied.

"Have a seat. We have 15 minutes, so let's get straight to it." She skipped the small talk.

She glanced at my ill-fitting shirt dress and sneakers but didn't comment. "Rachel told me about your situation. You haven't worked in four years, and before that, you were a junior designer at Nova Design Studio. Correct?"

"Yes."

"And you've been completely out of the workforce for four years?"

"I didn't have a full-time job. I took on a few freelance projects online."

She nodded, giving nothing away. "Let me see your work."

I handed her my phone.

She went through it quickly. For the first ten projects, she spent about three seconds on each before scrolling past.

She was polite but not particularly interested.

By the twelfth or thirteenth piece, she slowed down.

She paused on an illustration series and looked at it for a while. "Nice color work."

She said that and kept scrolling. When she reached the bakery brand's visual identity, she zoomed in and studied the structure of the logo.

By the twentieth piece, her pace slowed even more. When she reached the final Springhill project, she stopped.

The office was silent for more than ten seconds.

She went through the entire project from beginning to end.

She went from the logo, the typography, the packaging layouts, the storefront mockups, and then the supporting materials. Then she went back to the logo and looked at it again.

"You did this?" Victoria asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"When?"

"From September to November last year."

"By yourself?"

"By myself."

She looked up at me. There was something different in her eyes now.

It was no longer the polite distance of an interviewer sizing up a candidate. Her eyes sharpened, like she'd recognized something.

"Where did you post these?" she asked.

"DesignHub."

"What's your username?"

Rachel cleared her throat softly.

I looked Victoria in the eye. "Breeze."

She froze. She put down her phone and looked at me.

She looked at the woman sitting in front of her in a wrinkled shirt dress and sneakers, with dark circles under her eyes from four years of barely getting enough sleep.

Chapter 9

My hand stopped. "Who posted it?"

"It was anonymous. But the way it was worded made it sound like whoever posted it knew you," Rachel said.

It had to be Emily. She worked in media and PR. She was probably in more group chats than I could count.

"Will it affect my interview today?" I asked.

"Victoria doesn't hang around in those kinds of groups." Rachel shook her head. "But if it spreads, there'll always be people who gossip about it. Just be prepared for that."

"I am."

I wasn't afraid of what people said. I'd heard enough of it over the past four years.

Rachel was about to say something else when her phone rang. She answered and listened for a few seconds. Her expression changed. "Okay, got it."

She hung up and looked at me. "Victoria's meeting is running over. She said...she probably won't have time to meet you this afternoon."

I gripped my phone a bit tighter. "When can I meet her?"

"She said she'll see how things go and try to schedule something tomorrow or the day after." Rachel looked at me apologetically. "Evelyn, don't worry. It's not because of you.

"She really is busy. She's preparing a pitch for a major project."

I nodded. "It's fine. I'll wait."

"Actually," Rachel said, as if she'd remembered something. "Why don't you head home for now, and I'll—"

Before she could finish, her phone rang again. She answered, listened for a couple of seconds, then raised an eyebrow. "Now?"

She looked at me. "Victoria says her meeting is ending early. She has 15 minutes. Can you go over now?"

I stood up. "Let's go."

*****

Rachel hurried me down the hallway and all the way to the end.

Around the corner was a large office enclosed by glass walls. The door was open. A woman was sitting inside.

"Ms. Lane, here she is," Rachel said.

Victoria stood up. "Evelyn Shaw, right?" She shook my hand firmly.

"Hi," I replied.

"Have a seat. We have 15 minutes, so let's get straight to it." She skipped the small talk.

"Yes."

"And you've been completely out of the workforce for four years?"

"I didn't have a full-time job. I took on a few freelance projects online."

She nodded, giving nothing away. "Let me see your work."

I handed her my phone.

She went through it quickly. For the first ten projects, she spent about three seconds on each before scrolling past.

She was polite but not particularly interested.

By the twelfth or thirteenth piece, she slowed down.

She paused on an illustration series and looked at it for a while. "Nice color work."

She said that and kept scrolling. When she reached the bakery brand's visual identity, she zoomed in and studied the structure of the logo.

By the twentieth piece, her pace slowed even more. When she reached the final Springhill project, she stopped.

The office was silent for more than ten seconds.

She went through the entire project from beginning to end.

She went from the logo, the typography, the packaging layouts, the storefront mockups, and then the supporting materials. Then she went back to the logo and looked at it again.

"You did this?" Victoria asked.

"Yes," I replied.

"When?"

"From September to November last year."

"By yourself?"

"By myself."

She looked up at me. There was something different in her eyes now.

It was no longer the polite distance of an interviewer sizing up a candidate. Her eyes sharpened, like she'd recognized something.

"Where did you post these?" she asked.

"DesignHub."

"What's your username?"

Rachel cleared her throat softly.

I looked Victoria in the eye. "Breeze."

She froze. She put down her phone and looked at me.

She looked at the woman sitting in front of her in a wrinkled shirt dress and sneakers, with dark circles under her eyes from four years of barely getting enough sleep.