Victor smiled.
“No.”
Another reporter asked:
“What about the environmental concerns?”
“Resolved.”
“Zoning?”
“Approved.”
Victor lied smoothly.
Naomi watched from the back of the room.
She hadn't planned to attend.
Henry had invited her.
Now she understood why.
Victor finished his speech.
Then he saw her.
His expression changed.
He walked toward her after the cameras stopped.
“You have some nerve.”
Naomi remained calm.
“I have questions.”
“You're obsessed.”
“No.”
She held up a folder.
“I'm informed.”
Victor's face hardened.
“What do you want?”
“The truth.”
He laughed.
“You're a waitress.”
Naomi smiled slightly.
“Not anymore.”
Victor stared.
She continued.
“I've been accepted back into Stanford's law program.”
For the first time, Victor looked genuinely surprised.
“You're going back?”
“Yes.”
“With what money?”
“A scholarship.”
Henry Lin appeared beside her.
Victor looked at him.
“You.”
Henry nodded.
Victor's face darkened.
“You're supporting her?”
“No.”
Henry smiled.
“I'm supporting the truth.”
Victor looked between them.
“You have no idea who you're fighting.”
Naomi answered.
“I know exactly who I'm fighting.”
She opened the folder.
Inside were copies of documents.
“These are your actual zoning records.”
Victor's face tightened.
“These are your financial projections.”
He said nothing.
“And these are communications showing that your investors were told approvals had already been secured.”
Victor stepped closer.
“You can't prove any of this.”
Naomi smiled.
“We don't have to prove it to you.”
She looked toward the reporters.
“They're already asking questions.”
Victor turned.
Several journalists were approaching.
He suddenly looked less powerful.
Naomi walked away.
She had expected to feel triumphant.
Instead, she felt something else.
Peace.
For the first time in years, she wasn't hiding.
When the Bet Came Due
The investigation lasted several months.
Government agencies examined Victor's project.
Auditors reviewed his financial records.
Environmental regulators reopened the permits.
Investors demanded explanations.
Eventually, Victor's waterfront project was suspended.
Then the lawsuits began.
The evidence didn't prove every accusation that had circulated.
But it was enough to expose serious misrepresentations.
Victor was forced to step down from several development partnerships.
His reputation suffered.
His investors disappeared.
And the man who had once believed money could solve everything discovered that money couldn't buy trust once it was gone.
One morning, Naomi received a phone call.
Victor wanted to see her.
She almost refused.
Instead, she agreed.
They met in the same restaurant where the bet had begun.
Table Twelve.
Victor looked different.
Older.
Tired.
The arrogance was still there, but weakened.
He placed a check on the table.
“One hundred thousand dollars.”
Naomi stared at it.
“You finally decided to pay?”
“I lost.”
“Yes.”
Victor looked at her.
“I thought you were bluffing.”
“I wasn't.”
“I thought you were just a waitress.”
Naomi smiled.
“I was.”
Victor lowered his eyes.
“You were very good at it.”
Naomi laughed softly.
“That isn't what you mean.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“I was wrong about you.”
Naomi didn't respond.
Victor pushed the check toward her.
“Take it.”
She looked at the amount.
For years, she had imagined what one hundred thousand dollars would mean.
Now it was sitting in front of her.
She thought about her father's medical bills.
Her tuition.
Her future.
She picked up the check.
“Thank you.”
Victor nodded.
Before she stood, he asked:
“Why did you accept the bet?”
Naomi thought about it.
“Because you wanted me to feel small.”
Victor looked surprised.
“And?”
“And I realized I didn't.”
He nodded slowly.
“Do you hate me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because hate would give you too much space in my life.”
Victor looked down.
Naomi stood.
She walked away.
Outside, the San Francisco wind was cold.