Walter lowered his gaze.
For the first time that night, he didn't have an answer.
Then he looked toward Imani.
She was still standing beside the service station, holding her notebook with both hands.
His expression became difficult to read.
“Miss Carter.”
She looked up.
“Yes, sir?”
He paused.
For several seconds, he seemed to struggle with the words.
Then he asked quietly, “How did you notice?”
Imani took a breath.
“The date was current. The signature belonged to someone who, according to public records, died several years ago.”
He stared.
“And you remembered that?”
“Yes.”
Walter looked toward the contract.
Then back at her.
For a moment, he seemed genuinely bewildered.
“Why would a waitress know that?”
Imani held his gaze.
“Because I'm not only a waitress, Mr. Sterling.”
The room went silent.
She continued.
“I spent four years reviewing Japanese-English commercial documents professionally. I worked in cross-border contract support before my family circumstances changed.”
Walter stared.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then Imani added something he would remember for the rest of his life.
“You could have asked me that before offering money to make everyone laugh.”
The billionaire lowered his eyes.
And for the first time in years, he seemed to understand that silence at his table had never meant the people around him respected him.
Sometimes, it simply meant they knew how cruel he could become when someone refused to play along.
For nearly a minute, nobody in the private dining suite spoke.
The cash remained stacked beside the documents. The expensive whiskey had gone untouched. Beyond the windows, Manhattan continued glowing as though nothing significant had happened inside the room.
Walter looked toward the restaurant manager.
“Mr. Nakamura.”
The manager stepped forward.
“Yes, Mr. Sterling?”
Walter gestured toward Imani.
“I want her to remain here until my legal team has finished speaking with her.”
Imani's expression changed.
“With respect, sir, my shift ends at eleven.”
The billionaire stared.
For a fraction of a second, the familiar irritation returned.
Then Keiko Morita intervened.
“Mr. Sterling, Ms. Carter is not your employee. If you want her assistance, you should ask whether she's willing and arrange appropriate terms.”
Walter looked toward the attorney.
Then back at Imani.
He took a breath.
“Would you be willing to speak with counsel about what you observed?”
Imani hesitated.
She wanted to help establish the truth.
But she also understood the danger of becoming involved in a dispute between a billionaire and his son.
“I can describe what I saw and read,” she answered. “But I'd prefer to have independent advice before providing any extensive professional assistance.”