Chapter 3

The ballroom was filled with the scent of perfume and the rustle of elegant dresses.

Hardy held my arm, greeting guests effortlessly.

He introduced me to everyone. "This is my wife, Yolanda."

Their eyes held just the right amount of surprise and a hint of understanding.

Everyone knew Hardy had a beautiful wife he kept tucked away at home, someone rarely seen at any public event.

I kept a polite smile plastered on my face the whole time, feeling like a puppet being led around by invisible strings.

Halfway through, I slipped away to the restroom.

While I was touching up my makeup, I overheard two women chatting in the stalls. "So that's Hardy's wife? She's really stunning."

"So what if she's stunning? She's just a trophy wife. I heard she hasn't worked a day since she graduated."

"I seriously don't get what Hardy was thinking, marrying someone like her. She doesn't do anything for his business."

"You don't know the half of it. That's what they call keeping a beauty locked away. Hardy's got it all, so he doesn't need his wife for anything.

"Plus, girls like her are easy to control—no brains, just good at spending money."

I stopped listening after that.

I put down my lipstick and walked out of the restroom.

When I went back to the ballroom, Hardy was chatting with a middle-aged man.

When he spotted me, he gestured for me to come over, his smile soft and warm. "Yolanda, come here."

I walked over, and he slipped his arm around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. "This is Mr. Lewis from Grand Group."

I gave him a polite nod.

The guy gave me a once-over, and then grinned. "Mr. Smith, you really hit the jackpot. Mrs. Smith is so graceful and charming."

Hardy grinned, clearly proud of himself. "She knows nothing. All she knows is how to spend money."

He said it so naturally, flaunting and belittling me all at once.

My smile froze for a split second.

So this was the image he presented of me to his friends.

A woman who knew nothing but blowing money.

My only value was spending his money.

*****

Hardy was in high spirits on the drive home after the party, humming to himself.

He glanced over at me and squeezed my hand. "Tired, huh? I'll try not to drag you to these occasions too often."

I stared out the window at the neon lights speeding past, my voice barely above a whisper. "Hardy, what do you think my value is?"

He froze for a moment, surprised I'd ask that.

Then he smiled. "Why ask something like this out of the blue? Your value is being my wife and living happily, isn't it?"

Yeah, what a perfect answer.

I stopped talking.

By the time we got home, it was already late.

I kicked off my heels and slipped out of that pricey dress.

After my shower, I stepped into the study.

Hardy called out from the bedroom, "Yolanda, it's late. Come to bed."

"You turn in first. I've got a few things to take care of," I replied.

I ended up sitting in the study all night.

I didn't bother with those lessons anymore. Instead, I started looking up everything I could about Peak Group online.

I looked into its history, its company culture, and all its signature design projects.

The more I read, the more the fire inside me grew.

This was a company that built its reputation on design and creativity. It truly valued every talented designer.

If I could get in, even if it was just as an assistant, maybe I could finally reclaim who I was.

*****

On the day of the interview, I got up early. Hardy was still asleep.

I pulled out a suit I'd bought back in college from the deepest corner of my closet.

It was a little outdated, but still crisp and tidy.

I didn't bother with makeup. I just put on some lipstick to brighten up my look.

I tied my hair into a high ponytail and stared at my reflection in the mirror.

It felt like a piece of the Yolanda from five years ago was coming back.

I took a cab to the Peak Group office building.

It was a striking, designer building, standing tall right in the heart of the city.

As I walked into the lobby, I saw people moving with purpose, their eyes bright with ambition.

I felt like I didn't belong here, but at the same time, there was a thrill bubbling up inside me. It was a feeling I hadn't had in forever.

The HR manager led me into a conference room.

About ten minutes later, the door opened and three interviewers walked in.

The woman in the middle looked to be in her thirties—sharp, professional, with keen, observant eyes.

She glanced at me, picked up my resume, and said, "Yolanda Jenkins?"

"Yes," I answered.

She reviewed my resume, her brow furrowing a bit. "You've got an impressive background. Lots of awards back in college."

She looked up, her eyes sharp and direct. "But after graduation, there's a five-year gap."

She leaned in, her voice pressing. "Mind telling me what you did during those five years?"

I was prepared for this one.

I met her gaze and replied calmly, "For those five years, I got married and stayed home as a housewife."

I didn't try to hide it or dress it up since that was the plain truth.

The other two interviewers exchanged glances, their faces falling a little, clearly disappointed.

The woman in the middle, though, kept a straight face.

She went on, "So why do you want to get back into the workforce now?"

"Because I realized my value in life shouldn't be decided by anyone else," I said. "I want to get back to who I really am."

She went quiet for a few seconds, like she was trying to figure out if I was telling the truth.

Then she closed my resume.

"Last question," she said, locking eyes with me, her tone deliberate. "Peak Group is known for its intense workload and frequent overtime. Can you handle that? And will your family support you?"

The word "family" felt like a needle in my heart.

Would my family support me?

Hardy and Mark would love nothing more than to see me remain an incompetent trophy wife forever.

I went quiet.

The atmosphere in the conference room suddenly grew tense.

After what felt like ages, I finally looked up and met her eyes. "I won't know if I can handle it until I give it a shot."

"As for my family." I paused, my tone firm. "They'll support me."