Chapter 2

At Sophie's apartment, she handed me clean clothes, heated up some water, and made me some food.

I sat at her tiny table eating it, and my tears dropped right onto the plate.

Sophie sat across from me, watching.

She said, "When you're done crying, tell me what happened."

I put down my fork and told her everything, start to finish.

Sophie listened and was quiet for half a minute.

She said, "Wendy, what are you planning to do now?"

I said, "First, find a job. Then find a place to live."

"What did you do at the design firm before?"

"Interior design."

Sophie took out her phone and checked. "Perfect. There's a design company in Riverdale hiring. A client of mine recommended it. Harmony Design. Want to give it a shot?"

"What kind of company is it?"

"Mid-sized, mostly commercial spaces. I heard they just landed a few big projects and need people."

I glanced at the job posting.

The pay was better than my last job, and they wanted at least three years of experience.

I had four years under my belt.

I said, "Alright, I'll apply tomorrow."

Sophie put down her phone.

She said, "Wendy, you never should've married David. You were top of your class in college and won gold at the state competition. What did you see in him?"

I didn't say anything.

David was good to my mom.

My dad died early, and my mom raised me alone. She was in bad health with no pension. The first time David came over, he fixed the pipes, changed the lightbulbs, and slipped her 600 dollars before heading out.

My mom cried right then.

She said, "Wendy, this man is reliable."

I believed her.

Thinking about it now, selling my whole life for 600 bucks? What a bargain.

*****

The next day, I wore Sophie's clothes to Harmony Design.

The receptionist glanced at me.

She asked, "Do you have an appointment?"

I said, "I submitted my resume online and got an interview notice."

"Name?"

"Wendy Warren."

The receptionist checked the computer.

She said, "Wendy Warren. Yes. Third-floor conference room, second door on the left."

I went up to the third floor.

The conference room door was open. Inside sat a woman in her early forties, with short hair, gold-rimmed glasses, and a strong presence.

She saw me come in and gave a little nod, signaling me to sit.

She asked, "Did you bring your portfolio?"

I opened the files on my USB drive and hooked them up to the conference room screen.

Twenty-three projects, ranging from cafes to commercial complexes.

She scanned through them for five minutes.

She asked, "Did you win the state competition gold award?"

I said, "Yes."

"Why did you leave your last job?"

"Personal reasons."

She took off her glasses and looked at me.

She said, "I'm Olivia Grant, design director at Harmony Design. To be honest, your skills are above what this position needs. But let me ask you, can you handle pressure?"

I said, "Yes."

"We just took on the Brightstone Group's sales office project. The client is a nightmare. The last two designers got chewed out and quit. If you join, this will be your first project."

"I'm up for it."

Olivia put her glasses back on.

She said, "Start next Monday. Base salary is 2,400 dollars, plus project commission. If your work passes the client's review, you'll get extra commission."

I said, "Thank you."

I stood up and walked to the door.

Olivia called out behind me, "Wendy."

I turned back.

She said, "You don't need to cover up that mark on your face. Designers don't have to please anyone."

I nodded and walked out.

In the stairwell, I clenched my fist.

New city, new start.

But what I didn't know was that the Brightstone Group project was way more complicated than I thought.

Not because the design was hard. But because of the client.

*****

When I reported for work on Monday, Olivia took me straight to the project team.

She said, "Here's the Brightstone project info. Take a look. The client is coming in on Wednesday, and you'll be presenting the proposal."

Three days to come up with a proposal.

The other colleagues looked at me with sympathy.

An assistant named Sam Foley whispered to me, "Wendy, the Brightstone project manager is Brian Carter. He's super picky. Last time, he made our lead designer cry. Just a heads up."

I asked, "He made her cry? Over what?"

"He didn't like the color of the floor tiles in the proposal."

"So what color does he like?"

"He doesn't know either."

I flipped through the materials.

Brightstone Group, a local Riverdale real estate company, raised a round of funding last year and was now pushing into the high-end market. This sales office was their flagship project.

There was a business card tucked into the last page of the materials.

Project contact: Brian Carter.

I flipped the card over. On the back, someone had scribbled in pencil: [This guy is tough. Be careful.]

It was left by the previous designer.

*****

At 2 PM on Wednesday, the client arrived.

Brian walked in first, suit and tie, shoes polished to a shine, with two assistants trailing behind.

He sat down in the conference room, flipped through two pages of the proposal, and closed the file.

He asked, "What is this?"

I stood in front of the projection screen.

I said, "Mr. Carter, I haven't finished the proposal yet—"

He cut me off. "No need. I asked for a high-end vibe, and what did you give me? This looks like a budget hotel lobby."

His assistant snickered.

Sam kept his head down and stayed quiet.