Her car had developed a noise she was pretending not to hear.
And there was an $18,742 medical bill sitting unopened in a drawer at home.
Pride was expensive.
Danielle couldn't afford much of it.
So she smiled.
“I learned Mandarin when I was younger.”
Richard leaned forward.
“From what? An app?”
One of the executives looked down.
Danielle saw his mouth twitch.
“No.”
“YouTube?”
“No.”
“A community college?”
“No.”
Richard grinned.
“Then enlighten us.”
Danielle looked directly at him.
“I lived in Taiwan.”
That produced the first crack in his expression.
But only for a second.
“How long?”
“Long enough.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It wasn't intended to be.”
The executive on Liang's right coughed into his hand to hide a laugh.
Richard noticed.
His smile disappeared.
Then the man said something quietly in Mandarin.
“He's digging his own grave.”
Danielle looked down before her expression betrayed her.
Too late.
Richard caught it.
“You understood that.”
Danielle said nothing.
“What did he say?”
“It isn't my place to translate a private comment.”
“There.”
Richard slapped his palm lightly against the table.
“I knew it.”
Danielle frowned.
“Knew what?”
“You don't understand them.”
“Mr. Whitmore—”
“You memorized a few phrases and now you're pretending you're fluent.”
The dining room had become noticeably quieter.
Danielle could feel eyes on her.
She also saw her manager, Thomas Ellis, standing near the service station.
He knew Richard Whitmore.
Everyone did.
More importantly, he knew Richard's monthly tab.
Thomas took one step toward the table.
Richard raised a hand.
Thomas stopped.
Danielle saw that.
And something inside her changed.
Richard hadn't merely humiliated her.
He had just demonstrated that everyone in the room was expected to participate.
He turned back toward Danielle.
“Let's settle it.”
“There is nothing to settle.”
“Oh, I think there is.”
Richard reached into the inside pocket of his jacket.
He removed a black checkbook.
Liang finally spoke.
“Richard.”
But Richard was enjoying himself now.
“Five minutes.”
Danielle looked at him.
“Excuse me?”
“You claim you're fluent.”
“I said I'm fluent.”
“Then prove it.”
He uncapped a silver fountain pen.
“Five minutes of Mandarin with Mr. Chen.”
Danielle stared at him.
Richard began writing.
“You manage that without embarrassing yourself…”
He paused.
Signed his name.
Tore out the check.
Then placed it directly beside Danielle's hand.
“…and I'll give you one hundred thousand dollars.”
Someone gasped.