His eyebrows rose.
Adrian's smile disappeared.
Mr. Liang asked another question.
Naomi answered again.
This time, the older investor leaned closer.
They continued.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Naomi discussed shipping routes.
Then labor costs.
Then tariffs.
Then contractual obligations.
Adrian stopped smiling.
At three minutes, Mr. Liang asked her something that made Naomi's expression change.
She looked at him.
Then at Adrian.
“Who prepared your investment agreement?”
Adrian frowned.
“My lawyers.”
“Which lawyers?”
“What does that matter?”
Naomi turned toward Mr. Liang.
“Ask him whether the Chinese version is the original.”
Mr. Liang did.
The answer came quickly.
“No.”
Naomi stood.
The room was completely silent.
She looked at Adrian.
“The Chinese version is not a translation of your English contract.”
Adrian's face hardened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means someone changed it.”
The violinists stopped playing.
Mr. Liang stood.
“What did you say?”
Naomi looked directly at him.
“I said the two contracts do not mean the same thing.”
Adrian's confidence disappeared.
Because suddenly the hundred-thousand-dollar bet was no longer the most important thing happening in the room.
Naomi had just discovered something that could destroy a two-hundred-million-dollar deal.
And she had done it while carrying a silver tray.
Naomi had never planned to become a translator.
She had wanted to become an architect.
When she was sixteen, she filled notebooks with drawings of buildings.
Not luxury towers.
Not mansions.
Affordable housing.
Libraries.
Community centers.
Places where people could walk inside and feel that somebody had designed the space with them in mind.
Her grandmother had encouraged her.
But dreams cost money.
Naomi's family did not have much of it.
Her mother worked two jobs.
Her grandmother cleaned offices.
Naomi worked evenings at restaurants.
The first time she heard Mandarin, she was nine years old.
Her grandmother had taken a cleaning job in a small restaurant in San Francisco.
Naomi sometimes waited for her after school.
The restaurant was noisy.
Steam rose from the kitchen.
People shouted orders.
Customers spoke Mandarin, Cantonese, English, and several languages Naomi did not recognize.
At first, it all sounded like noise.
Then one day, an elderly woman noticed Naomi staring.
She handed her a small notebook.
“Write.”
Naomi did.
The woman wrote a Chinese character.
Then another.
She explained their meanings.
Naomi became fascinated.
Languages were puzzles.
And Naomi loved puzzles.
By thirteen, she could hold conversations.
By seventeen, she could read.
By twenty-one, she could negotiate basic business matters.
She eventually learned three other languages.
But she never told people.
Experience had taught her something important.
People revealed themselves when they thought you knew less than they did.
That was why she kept her abilities private.
And that was why Adrian Vale had made the biggest mistake of his evening.
He assumed the woman carrying his wine knew nothing about his world.
He was wrong.
Very wrong.
After Naomi identified the discrepancy between the contracts, Adrian immediately tried to regain control.
“You're a restaurant employee,” he said.
Naomi nodded.
“Yes.”
“You don't understand international finance.”
“I didn't say I did.”
“Then don't make accusations.”
“I didn't make an accusation.”
She pointed toward the documents.
“I identified a discrepancy.”
Mr. Liang's attorney took the contracts.
He read both versions carefully.
Then he asked Naomi a question.
She answered.
The attorney checked again.
His face became increasingly serious.
“There is a difference.”
Adrian turned toward him.
“How significant?”
The attorney hesitated.
“Potentially enormous.”
Adrian stood.
“Define enormous.”
The attorney looked at the Chinese contract.
“If this clause is interpreted according to the Chinese text, your company could be required to return the investors' initial contribution if the project fails to meet certain conditions.”
“How much?”
“Approximately eighty million dollars.”
Nobody spoke.
Adrian stared at Naomi.
She felt the room changing.
Five minutes earlier, she had been entertainment.
Now everyone was looking at her as though she had suddenly become dangerous.
Mr. Liang asked her how she knew so much.
Naomi gave a simple answer.
“My grandmother taught me.”
“Your grandmother?”