Whitney stared at him.
“Which incident?”
“The bet. The contract. Everything.”
Daniel lowered his voice.
“He is threatening to pull his business from the restaurant.”
Whitney felt a familiar pressure in her chest.
“So I'm supposed to pretend none of this happened?”
“No.”
Daniel sighed.
“I am telling you to be careful.”
Whitney nodded.
“I understand.”
She returned to the dining room.
Mr. Shu was standing beside the table.
“Whitney, may I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Where did you learn this level of Mandarin?”
She smiled.
“My grandmother.”
“Was she Chinese?”
“No.”
Mr. Shu seemed surprised.
“My grandmother was a cleaner. She worked around Chinatown for years. She believed that language was one of the fastest ways to understand people.”
Mr. Shu smiled.
“She was right.”
Whitney nodded.
“She used to tell me something.”
“What?”
“She said that people reveal themselves in the words they choose when they think nobody understands them.”
Mr. Shu looked toward Gerald.
“That is very true.”
A few minutes later, Gerald returned.
He walked directly toward Whitney.
“You've caused enough trouble.”
Whitney remained calm.
“I didn't create the discrepancy.”
“You embarrassed me.”
“I answered your challenge.”
Gerald's voice dropped.
“You don't know what you're involved in.”
Whitney looked directly at him.
“Then explain it.”
He said nothing.
Whitney continued.
“You offered me money because you thought I couldn't speak Chinese. You turned me into entertainment in front of your guests. Then a contract appeared with discrepancies.”
Gerald stepped closer.
“You should learn when to stay quiet.”
Mr. Shu stood.
“That is enough.”
Gerald turned.
Mr. Shu's expression was cold.
“You invited us here to discuss a major investment.”
“Yes.”
“And then you attempted to embarrass our server.”
“I made a joke.”
“You made a bet.”
Gerald didn't answer.
Mr. Shu continued.
“Now we have discovered that the agreement you presented contains language that our attorney says is materially different between versions.”
Gerald's voice became defensive.
“That doesn't prove fraud.”
“No.”
Mr. Shu nodded.
“But it proves we should stop.”
Gerald froze.
“You're withdrawing?”
“Until we understand everything.”
Gerald's face went pale.
“You can't.”
Mr. Shu smiled slightly.
“We can.”
Gerald looked at Whitney.
For the first time, there was no arrogance in his expression.
There was fear.
Whitney wondered why.
The answer arrived the following morning.
At nine fifteen, Whitney received a message from an unknown number.
You need to stop asking questions about Victor Hale.
She stared at the screen.
Then another message arrived.
You don't understand who you're dealing with.
Whitney immediately showed Daniel.
He called the police.
The officer who arrived took the message seriously but explained that the threat was vague.
Whitney gave him screenshots.
Before leaving, the officer said something that stayed with her.
“People don't usually threaten someone unless they believe that person has discovered something valuable.”
That afternoon, Whitney received another message.
This time there was an attachment.
It was a photograph of an old contract.
At the bottom was a signature.
Victor Hale.
Whitney recognized the company name.
It belonged to Gerald.
She called Mr. Shu.
Within an hour, he arrived.
They examined the document together.
Mr. Shu's attorney compared it with the investment agreement.
The pattern became clearer.
Victor Hale wasn't simply a consultant.
He had been connected to several companies that stood to benefit if the Chinese investors accepted the agreement.
But there was one more detail.
A payment had been made to Victor shortly before the contract was sent.
The amount was enormous.
And the payment had been authorized by a company controlled by Gerald Covington.
Whitney looked at Mr. Shu.
“What are you going to do?”
Mr. Shu closed the folder.
“We are going to find out the truth.”
The investigation began quietly.
Mr. Shu's attorneys examined every version of the agreement.
Whitney translated correspondence.
Lillian provided emails Gerald had sent over the previous two years.
Daniel gave Whitney permission to use a private meeting room at Harmon & Vine.
The restaurant had become an unlikely headquarters.
Whitney never expected to spend her days translating financial documents between lunch and dinner shifts.
But she couldn't walk away.
Too many questions remained unanswered.
One evening, Lillian arrived carrying a box.
“I found these in Gerald's old office.”
Whitney opened it.
Inside were contracts, invoices, photographs, and handwritten notes.
One note contained a name.
Victor Hale.
Another contained a number.
20,000,000.
Whitney's stomach tightened.
“What is this?”
Lillian shook her head.
“I don't know.”
They brought the papers to Mr. Shu's attorney.
He spent two hours examining them.
Then he looked up.
“This may explain the discrepancy.”
The original agreement allowed the investors to withdraw under specific circumstances.