"Forgive the interruption, gentlemen. This is the problem with America today. We employ the absolute bottom of the barrel. Uneducated, uncultured. They don't speak properly. They don't think properly. You have to treat them like dogs to get them to understand a simple instruction."
Alejandro looked disgusted. Klaus stared at the table. Jean-Luc shook his head slightly. They were horrified, but the power dynamic of the impending deal kept them silent.
Caldwell, mistaking their silence for agreement, chuckled darkly. He leaned over the table and muttered loudly in English, assuming his foreign guests wouldn't catch the nuance of his slang:
"Honestly, half the reason I need this deal is to get out of dealing with these American union rats. Once we sign, I'm slashing the European operational budgets by 40% and letting you boys take the heat from your local governments. Easy money."
The investors blinked. They understood English, but Caldwell was speaking fast, using corporate slang and idioms. Slashing budgets? Taking the heat?
Alejandro frowned, leaning toward Lorenzo to whisper in rapid Spanish, asking if he had understood what Caldwell just implied about the European budgets. Lorenzo shook his head, looking confused and frustrated.
Caldwell smirked, turning his back on Chloe, waving his hand at Thomas. "Get her out of my sight. Now."
Thomas grabbed Chloe's arm roughly. "Come with me, Chloe. Now. You're done."
Chloe stood frozen for a fraction of a second. She looked at Caldwell's smug, triumphant face. She looked at the four European billionaires, who were confused, alienated, and about to sign a deal with a man who secretly planned to bleed their companies dry and leave them holding the bag.
The fear that had governed Chloe's life for the past three years evaporated, replaced by a blinding, razor-sharp clarity.
Caldwell had called her illiterate. He had called her a mindless peasant. He assumed that because she wore an apron, she was deaf and blind to the world of power.
She gently, but firmly, pulled her arm out of Thomas's grip. She didn't look at the manager. She didn't look at the floor. She slowly picked up the linen towel, wiped a single drop of wine from her wrist, and turned to the table.
She locked eyes with Alejandro Navarro first, taking a deep, grounding breath. Chloe opened her mouth, and the ghost of the elite international negotiator she used to be stepped fully back into the light.