Mr. Shu slowly turned his head, his ancient, piercing eyes locking onto Gerald with an expression of such cold, absolute disappointment that it seemed to physically deflate the younger man. “Is this true, Mr. Covington?” the elder investor asked, his voice dropping an octave into a register that commanded absolute silence. “When we sat down at this restaurant tonight, you gave me your word—backed by the reputation of Harmon & Vine’s most favored patrons—that your development consortium was entirely clean, that your assets were unencumbered, and that our capital would be deployed exclusively toward the waterfront revitalisation project in Oakland.” Gerald swallowed hard, his throat dry as bone. “Mr. Shu, please... you can't listen to this man. Victor has had a vendetta against me since the bitter merger dispute three years ago. He’s fabricating evidence, he’s weaponizing a disgruntled former associate, and he’s using... he’s using a local employee to create a theatrical distraction!” Whitney bristled at the dismissal, her spine straightening instinctively. “I am not a distraction, Mr. Covington,” she said, her voice remarkably steady for someone who was technically still on the clock and responsible for clearing empty wine glasses. “And I am quite capable of reading a set of numbers, even if they are written in legal shorthand.”
Victor chuckled softly, a warm, genuine sound that seemed to needle Gerald deeper than any threat. “She’s right, you know,” Victor noted, turning his gaze toward Whitney with a look of profound professional respect. “Whitney didn't just read the contract, Gerald. She found the exact lexical flaw you paid your legal team a quarter of a million dollars to slip past the translation filter. You see, when you draft an international agreement between a San Francisco real estate conglomerate and a Beijing investment group, you rely on the assumption that the local service staff won't know the difference between fùzé and zhōngjiè. You thought you could lock Mr. Shu’s firm into a binding personal liability clause that would force them to absorb your private debts if the municipal permits collapsed. It was a clever trap. Truly, it was. If it hadn't been for a remarkably curious woman who spent her childhood listening to kitchen workers argue about politics and finance while waiting for her grandmother to finish scrubbing floors, your little masterpiece would have sailed right through.” Gerald’s face twisted into an ugly, snarling mask. “Shut up. Just shut your mouth, Victor.”