Whitmore turned sharply.
Paul looked toward me.
His expression changed.
"What happened?"
Whitmore pointed.
"Your waitress has interfered with a confidential business transaction."
I felt my stomach tighten.
Paul stared at me.
I took a breath.
"There's a concern about a document. Mr. Lam has asked his legal team to review it."
Paul looked horrified.
Whitmore leaned forward.
"She began making accusations in Cantonese."
Paul's eyes widened.
"You did what?"
"I answered a question directed at me and warned Mr. Lam about a discrepancy I'd previously reported in my professional capacity."
For a moment, he seemed unable to understand.
Then he looked toward Whitmore.
"I'm terribly sorry, sir."
My chest tightened.
The same familiar script.
The customer complained.
The manager apologized.
The employee became the problem.
Paul turned toward me.
"You're relieved of duty."
Teresa appeared in the doorway behind him.
She must have heard the raised voices.
Paul pointed toward the service corridor.
"Go to the office. We'll discuss your employment."
I felt my throat tighten.
Eight months of double shifts, careful service, and trying to rebuild my savings.
And it could disappear in an afternoon because a wealthy man didn't like what I said.
I looked toward Mr. Lam.
He was watching silently.
Paul turned immediately.
"I would prefer that you not make personnel decisions on my behalf."
"Of course, sir."
Mr. Lam continued.
"Miss Bennett has raised a concern relevant to our transaction. I have asked my counsel to review it."
Paul nodded quickly.
Then he glanced toward me.
"But she should not have involved herself in a private business discussion."
Mr. Lam studied him.
"Mr. Whitmore involved her."
The words landed heavily.
Paul looked confused.
Mr. Lam continued.
"He challenged her to speak Cantonese. He made a wager. He threw a menu at her feet."
Paul's face changed.
He looked toward Whitmore.
The millionaire stared at the table.
Mr. Lam's voice remained controlled.
"I don't know every detail of her employment. But I do know who initiated the exchange."
Paul swallowed.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he nodded.
"I understand."
He turned toward me.
"Naomi, please wait in the office while we sort this out."
I looked at him.
Then at Teresa.
Her expression was worried.
I took a slow breath.
I didn't want to turn the dining room into another argument.
Mr. Lam had stopped the signing.
That was what mattered most.
As I approached the door, Whitmore spoke again.
"She'll regret this."
For a moment, I considered turning around.
Then Mr. Lam answered before I could.
"Charles, the only thing she has done is ask us to verify the documents."
Whitmore's face flushed.
Mr. Lam continued.
"If the documents are correct, the review will establish that."
"And if they aren't, you'll have a much bigger problem than a waitress."
Teresa followed.
The door closed behind us.
And for the first time that afternoon, I let my hands shake.
Teresa took me into the employee break room.
She closed the door.
Then turned toward me.
"What the hell happened?"
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
My heart was pounding.
My mouth felt dry.
And all I could think about was Whitmore's expression when I said my name.
He recognized it.
"I think I just stopped a forty-million-dollar transfer."
For a second, she seemed unable to process the sentence.
Then she sat opposite me.
"I know how that sounds."
She leaned forward.
"Start at the beginning."
Not every confidential detail.
Not every document.
But enough for her to understand why I recognized Whitmore and why the revised disbursement schedule frightened me.
Teresa listened.
Her expression changed several times.
Then something close to disbelief.
When I finished, she leaned back.
For a long moment, she stared at me.
Then she said, "Girl."
I laughed weakly.
She shook her head.
"You've been carrying plates next to me for eight months, and you used to investigate financial transactions?"