Naomi looked up.
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“That's not what you owe me.”
“What do I owe you?”
Naomi thought for a moment.
“The truth.”
Victor nodded.
“You were right.”
“I know.”
He smiled.
“You really don't make this easy.”
“No.”
He placed an envelope on her desk.
Naomi looked at it.
“What is that?”
“Something I've wanted to give you for seven years.”
She opened it.
Inside was a handwritten letter.
Naomi read the letter slowly.
Victor had written about the restaurant.
About the bet.
About his behavior.
He admitted that he had judged her because she didn't fit the image of the person he expected to see.
He admitted that he had used money as a weapon.
He admitted that he had mistaken wealth for intelligence.
But the last paragraph was different.
Victor wrote:
I thought that night was about proving you could speak Mandarin. I was wrong. It was about proving I didn't know everything I thought I knew.
Naomi folded the letter.
She looked at Victor.
“Why now?”
“Because I finally understand it.”
“Understand what?”
“That I didn't embarrass you that night.”
Naomi waited.
“I embarrassed myself.”
She smiled slightly.
“Yes.”
Victor laughed.
“I deserved that.”
Naomi placed the letter on the desk.
“You know what bothered me most?”
“What?”
“It wasn't the money.”
“I know.”
“It wasn't even the insult.”
Victor looked at her.
“What was it?”
“You looked at me and decided my life was small.”
Victor lowered his eyes.
“You were wrong.”
“Yes.”
Naomi stood and walked toward the window.
“Do you know what I learned?”
“What?”
“People who underestimate you are sometimes giving you something valuable.”
Victor looked confused.
“What?”
“A reason to discover whether they're wrong.”
He smiled.
“You used me.”
“No.”
She turned.
“I used the situation.”
Victor nodded.
“That's fair.”
He stood.
“I want to repay the hundred thousand.”
“You already paid it.”
“I want to give you more.”
“I don't want it.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't need it.”
Victor smiled.
“That must be a strange feeling.”
“What?”
“Not needing money.”
Naomi laughed.
“It helps.”
Victor turned toward the door.
Then stopped.
“There is something else.”
Naomi waited.
“I want to make another bet.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“No.”
He laughed.
“You haven't even heard it.”
“I remember the first one.”
“This is different.”
“How?”
“You choose the terms.”
Naomi thought about it.
“All right.”
Victor smiled.
“What do you want?”
Naomi said:
“If your company succeeds again, you will create a scholarship for young people who had to abandon school because of family responsibilities.”
Victor stared at her.
“That isn't a bet.”
“It is for you.”
“What do I get?”
“You get to prove you've changed.”
Victor smiled.
“Deal.”
They shook hands.
The scholarship was created six months later.
The first recipient was a young woman named Sofia Martinez, who had left college to care for her younger brothers after her mother died.
Naomi interviewed her personally.
Sofia reminded Naomi of herself.
The same exhaustion.
The same fear.
The same determination.
When Sofia received the scholarship, she cried.
“I don't know how to thank you.”
Naomi smiled.
“You don't need to.”
“But why me?”
Naomi looked at her.
“Because someone should have given me this chance years ago.”
That night, Naomi went home and looked at her mother's photograph.
She finally understood what her mother had meant.
Language was about doors.
But sometimes, the most important thing wasn't knowing how to open a door.
It was deciding to hold it open for someone else.
Five years passed.
Naomi's career continued to grow.
She became a senior partner at Lin International.