Chapter 2

At nine that morning, I left the lounge in Kevin's $4,000 custom suit and walked into his private office.

He used to come home every day and slam his briefcase onto the couch. Then he would point a finger in my face and unload.

"Do you have any idea how exhausting my job is? Do you know how much pressure I'm under every single day?

"You sit at home living the good life. How can you not even manage one decent meal?"

I used to believe his workplace really was a battlefield.

But when I pushed open the door to that spacious, sunlit private office, I couldn't help letting out a cold laugh.

The room advertised comfort at every turn: a leather executive chair, climate control, and a high-end coffee station.

Beside the coffee station stood a whole row of out-of-print collectibles for killing time. Outside the door, every employee who saw me greeted me with a deferential, "Good morning, Kevin."

This was unbearable pressure? This was work so grueling he couldn't survive it?

At ten sharp, the secretary knocked before coming in, her expression tense. "Kevin, Ethan from the Crest Group is here. But... he's in a terrible mood. He tore into the receptionist in the lobby just now."

Ethan Blake was the Crest Group client behind the $300,000 deal Kevin had mentioned in his messages, the one he had chased for six months without closing.

Ethan was supposedly arrogant beyond belief, the kind of man who flipped tables and cursed people out at the slightest provocation. Kevin had spent his days trailing him like a lapdog without ever getting near a signed contract.

I straightened my tie and stood. "Come on. Conference room."

When I pushed open the conference room door, a middle-aged man with a large beer belly was slamming a stack of documents onto the table. "This is your company's proposal? What the hell is this? Where's Kevin? Tell him to get in here!"

The secretary shrank back, frightened. I walked over calmly, sat across from him, and poured him a cup of coffee.

"Ethan, take a breath."

His head snapped up, and he began cursing me out with a finger in my face. He ranted for a full ten minutes, tearing into everything from formatting errors in the proposal to our company's service.

The old Kevin would have been cursing the client out in his head while mopping his brow and apologizing through gritted teeth. I didn't.

I only listened quietly, and at the right moment I even handed him a tissue.

Was that the best he could do? Please. In five years, I had endured my three-year-old son's senseless kicking and screaming on the floor. I had endured Sofia humiliating and berating me for two solid hours over a single hair on the floor.

A full-time housewife may not have much, but that house had trained me to read a room, provide emotional support, and endure almost anything.

Once he had finally worn himself out and reached for his coffee, I smiled and finally spoke.

I didn't defend the proposal or bring up the contract. I simply repeated his complaints back to him with precision, then offered three practical solutions in a tone that was gentle but immovable.

"Ethan, that third point you raised, we genuinely didn't think it through.

"If we move the delivery date up by ten days and I personally seek approval for a dedicated support line just for Crest, would that show enough good faith?"

Ethan's hand paused with the coffee cup halfway to his mouth.

He looked me up and down, suspicious, probably because I was nothing like the slippery flatterer he knew Kevin to be. I answered every question, committed to every follow-up, and never once lost my composure.

Half an hour later, Ethan had not only signed the $300,000 contract but also given me a firm handshake on his way out.

"Kevin, I always thought you were all flash and no substance. Today's conversation changed my mind.

"From now on, I'm bringing every Crest account to you!"

I smiled and walked him to the elevator.

Back in the office, I looked at the signed contract on the desk and felt tears sting my eyes. Kevin always said I had never gone to college, that I was stupid, and that I was fit for nothing but washing dishes at home.

What he didn't know was that I had graduated with straight A's. My family had no money, and my brother was about to start college, so I gave up my own chance at college and went to work full-time instead. Yet one sneer about me not having the brains had nailed me permanently into the kitchen.

I ran my fingers over the expensive watch on my wrist. Kevin, the career you were so proud of was never beyond me.