"Well." He adjusted his suit jacket; the words sounded painful coming from him. "Congratulations."
Nobody responded.
Charles laughed softly. "You speak Mandarin."
Still nothing.
"But let's not get carried away."
There it was: the next attack, the next attempt to reclaim control. Raymond closed his eyes briefly. Margaret sighed. Mr. Liang remained perfectly calm. Maya simply waited.
Charles pointed toward her. "Being conversational isn't the same thing as understanding business." The room listened. "It's one thing to order dinner." He picked up his whiskey glass. "It's another thing entirely to understand international contracts."
The younger investors exchanged glances. Maya remained silent.
Charles mistook her silence for uncertainty. That mistake would cost him.
He reached inside his leather briefcase, pulled out a thick folder, then placed it on the table. The sound echoed louder than it should have; every eye followed it.
"What do you have there?" Raymond asked.
Charles smiled. "A draft agreement."
Mr. Liang's expression darkened slightly. The investors immediately recognized the document: the preliminary investment package, the same package their legal teams had been reviewing for weeks.
Charles slid the folder across the table toward Maya. "Since you're apparently full of surprises tonight," his eyes narrowed, "translate this."
The challenge landed like a stone thrown into still water; ripples spread through the room. Several diners openly turned their chairs. Nobody wanted to miss what happened next.
Maya looked down at the folder, then back at Charles. "What part?"
His smile widened. "The part you can actually understand."
A few uncomfortable faces appeared around the room. The insult was obvious. Even now, even after everything, Charles still couldn't stop underestimating her.
Mr. Liang spoke quietly: "Mr. Whitmore..."
But Charles wasn't finished. "No." He held up a hand. "You've already proven you can speak." He tapped the folder. "Now let's see whether you understand."