Chapter 9
The Peak Group building gleamed in the sunlight.
When I stood here for the second time, my feelings were completely different.
Last time, I was nervous, confused, and scared of what the future might bring.
This time, I was calm, sure of myself, and determined to take back my life.
I walked into the lobby and headed straight to the front desk. "Hi, I'm Yolanda Jenkins. I have a 10 a.m. appointment with Ms. Moore."
The receptionist, clearly already notified, greeted me with a professional smile. "Hello, Ms. Jenkins. Ms. Moore is expecting you. Please follow me."
Instead of the cold conference room from last time, she led me to an exclusive elevator reserved for the upper floors.
When the elevator doors opened, I stepped into the spacious, brightly lit office of the design director.
Through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, the vibrant cityscape stretched out before me.
A woman in a dark gray business suit stood with her back to me at the window. She was tall, with a cool, confident vibe that screamed professionalism.
When she heard me come in, she turned around.
It was the same sharp-eyed woman who'd been sitting in the center during my last interview, Fiona Moore.
She was the design director at Peak Group, a legend in the business.
Rumor had it that she became the design director at only twenty-eight.
She was known for her ruthless eye for talent and her no-nonsense approach.
"Yolanda?" Fiona said, her voice cool and powerful, just like her presence.
"Ms. Moore," I replied, giving her a respectful nod.
She gestured toward the sofa opposite her. "Have a seat."
I took a seat and carefully set my portfolio down on the coffee table.
Fiona came over and took a seat across from me.
She didn't glance at my portfolio and cut right to the chase. "I don't have much time, so I'll be direct.
"I've reviewed your resume and your college projects. You have a unique creative spark.
"But that five-year gap in your career is still a major concern."
She leaned in, her eyes sharp and penetrating, like she could see straight through me. "The most important thing is, the day after we notified you about your first interview, I got a phone call."
My stomach dropped.
"Mr. Scott specifically contacted me and said he was reaching out on behalf of your husband, Hardy Smith, asking us not to hire you," she said, her tone so flat that it was like it meant nothing at all.
"He claimed you were just bored at home and wanted to have some fun, that you weren't really serious about the job.
"So, how do you explain that?"
Finally, the real problem came out.
The question was more direct and sharper than I expected.
I didn't look away. I met Fiona's gaze head-on. "Ms. Moore, what he said is true."
Fiona's eyebrows lifted slightly, a hint of surprise flickering in her eyes.
I went on, "In a way, my husband, Hardy Smith, really does think I'm just doing this for fun.
"Because in his world, my worth is simply as his wife—kept like a pet in a beautiful cage, just to look good and be ornamental.
"Any attempt to spread my wings is seen as childish, embarrassing, or just me messing around."
My voice was calm. I wasn't accusing or complaining, just stating a fact. "But I believe my worth shouldn't be up to my husband."
I reached out and slid my portfolio across the coffee table to her. "I think my value should be measured by my work.
"I'm not here to talk about my family today.
"I'm here to show you that I'm a designer with value and potential."
"As for that five-year gap." I paused, giving a self-deprecating smile. "Let's just say I spent those five years on an immersive field research project—studying humanity and space."
After I finished, the office fell silent.
Fiona looked at me, her eyes showing a mix of emotions—scrutiny, curiosity, and maybe even a hint of approval.
After a long moment, she reached out and picked up my portfolio.
She flipped through it slowly, taking her time with each page.
When she reached my updated design for the hanging garden, her finger paused on the blueprint. "Is this your graduation project?"
"Yes," I answered.
"It's an interesting idea, but five years ago, the technology wasn't good enough. There were a lot of limitations."
"That's right," I responded quickly. "So I redesigned it, using the latest eco-friendly materials and smart home systems to address the energy efficiency and structural load challenges."
I took out my tablet and pulled up the dynamic presentation I'd created after countless late nights.
Fiona watched the video, her eyes lighting up as she took it all in.
Once the videos ended, she closed my portfolio.
She looked at me and asked her final question, "This job is going to stir up a lot of trouble in your family.
"Your husband isn't going to back down easily.
"Are you sure you can handle it?"
"Ms. Moore." I looked her straight in the eye, my voice steady. "I'm not the Yolanda who lets anyone else decide what I'm worth anymore.
"I'll take charge of my life the same way I tackle every design."
Fiona finally smiled. It was her first smile today.
"Great," she said, rising and reaching out her hand. "Yolanda, welcome to join Peak Group.
"You'll start as a junior designer, with a three-month probation period. The probation salary is 5,000 dollars before taxes.
"If you make it through probation, I'll take you under my wing myself."
I gripped her hand. It was warm and full of strength.
My eyes almost welled up, but I forced myself to hold it together. "Thank you, Ms. Moore. I promise I won't let you down."