Maya glanced at the document again. Then she looked at Mr. Liang. "May I?"
The older investor nodded immediately. She opened the agreement to the same page. The paper rustled softly. Every sound in the room seemed amplified now: the turning pages, the rain, the faint hum of air conditioning, even breathing.
Maya pointed toward a paragraph: "This section references environmental compliance thresholds."
One of Mr. Liang's associates stood and moved closer. The younger man adjusted his glasses, read the paragraph, then looked up sharply. Mr. Liang took the document himself. His eyes moved across the page: slowly, carefully. Then he flipped to the English version, compared them once, twice, a third time.
The older investor's expression darkened. Raymond noticed immediately; Margaret noticed, too. Charles pretended not to, but everyone could see the tension gathering around him.
Finally, Mr. Liang spoke—not to Maya, to Charles:
"Why wasn't this brought to our attention?"
The question landed heavily. Charles leaned back. "There are multiple drafts."
"That's not what I asked." Mr. Liang's voice remained polite, which somehow made it worse. "I asked why the language differs."
Nobody spoke. The restaurant had become silent enough to hear ice settling inside glasses.
Charles cleared his throat. "Our legal team reviewed everything."
One of the Chinese investors shook his head. "We specifically asked about this clause last week."
Raymond's eyes moved toward Charles: slowly, almost reluctantly, because now he remembered the meeting, the emails, the discussion, the warnings. The concern had been raised; Charles had dismissed it. The realization appeared on Raymond's face, and Maya saw it. So did Mr. Liang.
Charles suddenly felt cornered—a feeling he despised. His entire career had been built on control: control of meetings, control of negotiations, control of perception. Now that control was slipping away, and it was slipping away because of a woman he had dismissed as unqualified less than an hour ago. The irony burned.
Maya closed the folder gently. She wasn't trying to embarrass him; that was the strange part. Every person in the room could feel it: she wasn't attacking; she wasn't celebrating; she wasn't performing. She was simply telling the truth, and truth was proving devastating enough.
Mr. Liang folded his hands. "I appreciate your honesty, Ms. Brooks."
Maya nodded. "Thank you."
The older investor continued, "Most people would have stayed silent."
She smiled faintly. "I've never been very good at staying silent when something matters."
A few people laughed softly—not because it was funny, because it was true.