“What?” Gerald snapped. “Can't read it? Too many big words?”
Whitney looked up, locking eyes with Gerald. The calm deference was completely
gone, replaced by a sharp, analytical focus. “Mr. Covington, this clause here—Section
4, subsection B—does not mean what your English translation claims it means.”
The entire table leaned in. Mr. Shu’s relaxed demeanor instantly vanished, replaced by
the hardened exterior of a veteran businessman.
“Which clause?” Mr. Shu demanded, switching to heavily accented but clear English.
“The exclusivity and liability clause,” Whitney replied, pointing to the screen. She
looked at Mr. Shu. “The English summary provided in the dossier states that the
restriction applies solely to your subsidiaries and directly affiliated companies.
However, the Chinese wording—specifically the use of the term 'xiangguan liyi zhe' in
this context—creates a drastically broader net. It legally extends the liability to any
individual acting on behalf of the company, including independent contractors and
personal assets in the event of a breach.”
The young Chinese lawyer accompanying Mr. Shu practically snatched the phone from
the table. He quickly pulled up the English version on his tablet and began comparing
the texts, his eyes darting back and forth rapidly. His face, initially skeptical, grew
progressively paler.
He looked up at Mr. Shu and swallowed hard. “She... she is correct, sir. The translation
is highly misleading. The liability is not localized. It is systemic.”
Gerald stared at the lawyer, genuine panic flashing in his eyes for the first time.
“You're telling me a waitress found a loophole my entire legal team missed?”
“It is not a loophole, Mr. Covington,” the lawyer replied coldly. “It is a discrepancy. A
severe one.”
Gerald’s face turned from red to a sickly shade of gray. “This was reviewed three times
by top-tier firms in New York!”
“And yet, the discrepancy exists,” Mr. Shu said, his voice dangerously soft. He turned to
Whitney. “Miss Sawyer. Would you do me the honor of reading the rest of this
document? I will compensate you handsomely for your time.”
Whitney hesitated. She had stepped far beyond the bounds of her job description. But
looking at Gerald’s terrified face and Mr. Shu’s earnest request, she nodded. “I will.”
Chapter 6: The Unraveling
For the next forty-five minutes, Harmon & Vine’s Table Twelve transformed from a
dining experience into an impromptu corporate tribunal. Whitney stood at the head of
the table, holding the phone, meticulously deconstructing the contract line by line. The
restaurant management, terrified of intervening, hovered nervously by the bar,
watching their waitress dismantle a multi-million-dollar deal.
Whitney was relentless. She explained the subtle, treacherous nuances of the
language. She highlighted promises that were cleverly disguised as mere intentions,
meaning they carried no legal weight. She pointed out conditions that were dressed
up as friendly recommendations. With clinical precision, she exposed a contract
heavily, fundamentally biased toward Gerald Covington’s interests.
With every revelation, Gerald shrank into his chair, sweating profusely, sputtering
weak defenses that were immediately shot down by Mr. Shu's now-furious lawyer.
Then, Whitney found the kill shot.
“Section 9, Termination Penalties,” she read aloud, her voice ringing clear in the silent
dining room. She paused, rereading the characters to ensure she hadn't made a
mistake. It was audacious.
She looked directly at Mr. Shu. “Sir. This clause dictates that if your investment group
withdraws from the project due to delays on the developer's end—meaning Mr.
Covington's end—you do not recoup your initial capital. The Chinese text states you
forfeit a mandatory penalty fee due to 'administrative reorganization'.”