She turned to Maya.
"Do you remember the nature of your father's dispute?"
Maya looked down at the letter.
"Not clearly. He rarely spoke about it. When I was younger, I knew only that he had lost his job and that people who used to call him stopped calling. Later, I learned that he had been accused of deliberately mistranslating a confidential agreement."
"Was he formally charged with fraud?" Eleanor asked.
"No. But his professional reputation was destroyed. The agencies that had hired him stopped accepting his applications. A university withdrew an offer to teach a translation course. People who had praised his work suddenly acted as though they had never known him."
Her voice remained controlled, but the memories had begun to surface with uncomfortable clarity.
"My mother worked extra shifts to pay the bills. My father kept telling us that the truth would eventually come out. He said the original documents would prove that he had done nothing wrong."
"What happened to the documents?" Richard asked.
"I don't know. He kept some of them at home. Others were stored with an attorney, I think. After he died, my mother and I sorted through his belongings, but there were gaps in the records."
"Did he ever mention Blackwood Industries?" Eleanor asked.
Maya turned toward her.
"Yes."
The answer landed heavily.
Adrian rose from his chair.
"Enough."
He walked to the mirror at the far end of the room and stared at his own reflection. The warm lights picked out the lines of his face and the precise cut of his suit. Behind him, the others waited.
He had spent years constructing a version of his professional history in which every failure could be attributed to an incompetent predecessor, every difficult decision could be justified by the needs of the company, and every unresolved problem could be classified as an unfortunate but necessary cost of progress.
He did not like discovering that an old story might have another version.
Especially when the person telling it was a waitress whose competence he had tried to turn into a joke.
He turned around.
"Miss Bennett, I suggest you return to your duties. If there is a legitimate business question here, our legal team will handle it."
Maya nodded.
"Of course."
Her willingness to leave surprised him.
She carefully placed the Japanese letter on the table, making sure it did not lie beneath the damp ring left by his cognac glass.
"But I should tell you one thing before I go."
Adrian folded his arms.
"What?"
"The document you showed me doesn't merely contain a difficult sentence. It contains a reference to a previous agreement that your English summary doesn't mention."
Eleanor immediately leaned forward.
"What reference?"
Maya pointed to a phrase in the third paragraph.
"This expression refers to an earlier written undertaking. The Japanese delegation is not asking you to accept a new condition. They are reminding you that a condition was already agreed upon."
Richard looked at the document.
"Which undertaking?"
"I can't determine that from this page alone."
Adrian stepped back toward the table.
"Then you're guessing."
"No. I'm distinguishing what I know from what I don't know."
She met his eyes.
"The language is clear. The history isn't."
That answer silenced him more effectively than an argument would have.
Maya took a small step backward.
"Good evening, Mr. Blackwood."
She turned toward the door.
"Wait."
She stopped.
Adrian looked at her, his expression unreadable.
"How long have you worked here?"
"Eleven months."
"And before that?"
"I worked as a freelance translator, then as an administrative assistant for a small consulting firm."
"What happened to the consulting firm?"
"It closed."
"Why?"
"The owner was investigated for falsifying invoices. I wasn't involved, but the company shut down before I found another position."
"Did you apply to Blackwood Industries?"
Maya stared at him.
"Yes."
"How many times?"
"Six."
The answer surprised Eleanor.
"Six?"
Maya nodded.
"Three applications for translation and international relations positions. Two for administrative roles. One for a junior research position."
"And you were rejected each time?" Eleanor asked.
"I received automated responses for four of them. The other two never received a response."
Eleanor slowly turned toward Adrian.
"Which recruiting firm handles those applications?"
"I don't know," he replied.
"You should."
"I have thousands of employees."
"And an executive team responsible for hiring them."
Adrian ignored her.
"Why didn't you mention this when you applied?"
"Because the application form asked about my qualifications, not my personal history."
"Did you include your university degree?"
"Yes."
"Your Japanese proficiency?"
"Yes."
"Professional references?"
"Yes."
"Then why didn't you contact someone directly?"
Maya considered the question.
"I did. Twice."
Adrian waited.
"The first time, I was told that the position had been filled. The second time, a recruiter suggested that I would be more suitable for customer service."
Miles looked down at the table.
Richard's expression became deeply uncomfortable.
Maya continued in the same measured voice.
"I didn't argue. I needed work, and customer service was work. So was this job."