The dinner was supposed to be a celebration of the progress he'd made.
Instead, it became the moment his most carefully protected assumptions began falling apart.
Standing to his right was a twenty-eight-year-old Black American waitress named Nia Brooks.
She was extraordinarily beautiful, with deep-brown skin, expressive dark eyes, elegant features, and a naturally slim figure. Her black hair was arranged into a sophisticated high braided bun. She wore a fitted bright-red silk qipao with a traditional Mandarin collar, delicate gold floral embroidery, black piping, and long sleeves.
She looked perfectly suited to the restaurant's luxurious atmosphere.
Her posture was graceful.
Her expression was composed.
And she had served the executives without making a single mistake.
Victor barely noticed her until she placed a small porcelain dish near his plate.
He looked up.
Then glanced at her name badge.
"Nia."
She inclined her head politely.
"Yes, sir?"
He studied her face.
"Have you ever served Peking duck before?"
"Many times, sir."
His lips curved into a faint smile.
"Really?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
Victor looked toward the other executives.
"Interesting."
Several men exchanged amused glances.
He turned back toward Nia.
"Then perhaps you can tell us what makes this dish special."
Nia gestured toward the platter.
"The duck has been prepared to emphasize its crisp skin and tender meat. It's traditionally served with thin pancakes, scallions, cucumber, and sauce."
Her explanation was accurate and professional.
But Victor appeared disappointed.
He had been hoping for something more entertaining.
He leaned back.
"That sounds like something you memorized."
The room became quieter.
Nia maintained her pleasant expression.
"I'd be happy to explain the preparation in greater detail."
Victor laughed.
Then he looked toward a younger executive sitting across the table.
"That's the problem with service these days. Everyone learns a little script and thinks that makes them knowledgeable."
A few guests smiled uncertainly.
Nia remained still.
She'd encountered demanding customers before.
But something about the way Victor examined her suggested that he wasn't interested in the food at all.
He wanted to demonstrate his authority.
Victor picked up the expensive leather menu.
Then pushed it sharply across the table toward her.
The edge struck a water glass, producing a delicate chime.
"Fine," he said. "Explain this Peking duck in Mandarin. One mistake, and you're fired!"
Two executives laughed.
Another lowered his eyes toward his plate.
The restaurant's assistant manager, standing near the sliding doors, stiffened.
Nia looked toward the menu.
Then toward Victor.
For a moment, she said nothing.
The billionaire smiled, confident he'd embarrassed her.