“I understand.”
“And I won't discuss confidential information unless the appropriate arrangements are in place.”
“That's reasonable.”
She heard papers moving on his desk.
“May I ask you something?” he said.
“Certainly.”
“Have you spoken to anyone else about the financing structure?”
“No. I've reviewed publicly available documents.”
“Nothing beyond that?”
“No.”
Richard was silent for a moment.
“Thank you for clarifying.”
The conversation ended shortly afterward.
Naomi stared at her phone.
His questions had been oddly specific.
She wondered whether someone had accused her of obtaining information she was not entitled to see.
Or whether the company had begun to realize that the public documents themselves raised questions.
The revised contract arrived at 3:14 p.m.
Naomi read it carefully.
The language had improved.
The company would retain the right to review her work for factual accuracy, confidentiality, and completeness. It could not remove a material finding merely because it disagreed with the conclusion.
That was progress.
But one sentence still troubled her.
The report would be delivered to Hale Urban Holdings' executive committee, which would determine whether and how it should be shared with outside parties.
Naomi called Richard again.
“I'm looking at section six.”
“So am I,” he replied.
“Who determines whether the findings reach the investors?”
“The executive committee.”
“Would the committee be required to provide the full report to them?”
“Not automatically.”
“Then my concern remains.”
Richard sighed.
“I expected you to say that.”
“I'm sorry.”
“No, you're not.”
Naomi smiled faintly.
“No, I'm not.”
For the first time, Richard laughed.
It was brief, but genuine.
“You know, Ms. Carter, you would have been very difficult to manage in my first job.”
“I suspect I would have been difficult to manage in several jobs.”
“Perhaps. But I think your point is fair.”
“Can the contract specify that any material finding relevant to the investors' decision must be communicated to them, subject to appropriate confidentiality protections?”
“I'll raise it.”
“Thank you.”
He paused.
“There is something else you should know about Friday's dinner.”
Naomi waited.
“Victor wants you there because the investors have asked questions about the project's financial assumptions. He believes your language skills will help.”
“And what do you believe?”
“I believe the investors have concerns that go beyond language.”
Naomi sat straighter.
“Such as?”
“I can't discuss the details until the appropriate arrangements are in place.”
“Understood.”
Richard continued.
“But I will say this: if you attend, please don't feel obligated to agree with anyone simply because they are senior to you.”
Naomi was quiet for a moment.
“Is that advice?”
“Yes.”
“Then I'll take it seriously.”
After the call, she accepted the invitation on the condition that she receive the final contract before the dinner.
She still did not know whether she would accept the engagement.
But she had decided to attend.
Friday evening arrived beneath a pale gray sky.
Naomi finished her shift at four thirty, went home, and changed into a navy suit. She chose a simple blouse, black shoes, and a small pair of silver earrings that had belonged to her mother.
The earrings were not expensive.
They were important because they reminded her of a woman who had taught her to distinguish between being polite and being silent.
Her mother had once worked as a bookkeeper for a small manufacturing company. She had spent years balancing accounts while raising Naomi and her younger brother, Daniel, who had died in a car accident when he was twenty-one.
After Daniel's death, Naomi's mother had become quieter.
She still went to work, still prepared meals, still asked Naomi about her classes. But something in her had changed.
When Naomi received her acceptance letter from Stanford, her mother had held it in both hands and read every line.
Then she had looked up and said, “Promise me something.”
“What?”
“Don't let anyone convince you that being grateful means being obedient.”
Naomi had laughed at the time.
Her mother had not.
“Some people will help you,” she had said. “Some people will give you opportunities. Be thankful when they do. But don't confuse gratitude with giving them permission to decide who you are.”
Naomi had remembered those words during her first job, during the collapse of her career, and during the long months when she wondered whether she had made a mistake by refusing to compromise.
She touched the small silver earrings.
Then she left.
The dinner was being held in a private room at the Westbridge Hotel, a luxury property overlooking the bay.
When Naomi arrived, an attendant directed her to a reception area where several executives were speaking in small groups.
Victor Hale stood near the windows.
He wore a charcoal suit and a dark red tie. When he saw Naomi, he raised his glass.
“Ms. Carter. You came.”
“You invited me.”
He smiled.
“I appreciate that.”
Naomi greeted Richard Cole, who was standing nearby, then turned toward the three businessmen from Shanghai.
Henry Lin recognized her immediately.
“Ms. Carter,” he said warmly. “I'm glad to see you again.”
“It's good to see you too, Mr. Lin.”
Michael Zhou shook her hand.
David Chen smiled.
“We were hoping you would come.”
Naomi looked at him.
“Why?”
David's smile faded into a more serious expression.
“Because we have several questions, and we would prefer to ask them without misunderstandings.”
Victor laughed lightly.
“That's why we're all here. To ensure that everyone understands the project.”
Henry looked at him.
“Yes,” he said. “Everyone.”
The guests were escorted into the private dining room.
The table was arranged for twelve people. Crystal glasses stood beside white porcelain plates, and small floral arrangements decorated the center. Through the windows, the bay was visible beneath the evening haze.
Naomi was seated between Richard Cole and David Chen.
Victor sat at the head of the table.
The dinner began with polite conversation about travel, business conditions, and the changing investment climate in California.
Naomi listened more than she spoke.
She noticed that Henry Lin asked several questions about the project timeline, while Michael Zhou returned repeatedly to the subject of infrastructure costs.
David Chen appeared particularly interested in the financing structure.
Victor answered confidently.
He described the development as a once-in-a-generation opportunity, emphasizing the projected demand for waterfront residences, the technology sector's expansion, and the city's long-term need for new housing.
His presentation was polished.
He knew how to make a complicated project sound inevitable.