The chef had prepared it with particular care.
Its skin was crisp and glossy, the meat tender, and the presentation arranged to showcase the contrast between the rich golden duck and the pale porcelain platter.
A senior server explained the accompaniments.
Nia positioned the dishes so guests could reach the pancakes, scallions, cucumber, and sauce without disrupting the conversation.
The executives complimented the food.
For several minutes, the atmosphere softened.
Then Victor asked Nia whether she'd ever served the dish before.
The exchange began almost playfully.
But his expression changed when she answered with confidence.
He questioned whether she actually understood the preparation.
Then made a dismissive remark about service workers memorizing scripts.
The remark made several guests uncomfortable.
Wei looked toward Victor.
Margaret stopped eating.
But nobody interrupted quickly enough.
Victor pushed the menu across the table.
Then demanded a Mandarin explanation, threatening to have her fired if she made a mistake.
Nia felt a familiar sensation.
Not fear.
Recognition.
She'd experienced this kind of performance before.
A powerful person deciding that someone else's embarrassment would entertain the room.
For one moment, she considered answering only with the culinary description.
Then she looked toward the black folder waiting beneath her tray.
The authorized handoff was imminent.
The senior people who needed the information were already present.
And Victor had publicly made assumptions about what she could understand.
Nia straightened the menu.
Then gave her brief answer in fluent Mandarin, including the sentence that she knew about the confidential acquisition.
The change was immediate.
Victor's smile disappeared.
The younger executives stopped laughing.
And Elliot looked as though someone had suddenly removed the floor beneath his chair.
Nia placed the folder on the table.
Wei stood.
Then bowed respectfully.
He did so not because he believed Nia was royalty or because he wanted to humiliate Victor through some elaborate ceremony.
He was acknowledging the daughter of a woman he respected and the authorized representative of a governance arrangement he'd helped establish.
It was a personal gesture.
One that carried years of memory.
Victor didn't understand any of that.
He saw only an elderly chairman showing public respect to a waitress he'd just mocked.
And it unsettled him.
The moment he turned to page seventeen, his expression changed.
The document displayed a reproduction of the disputed consent.
Lorraine's signature appeared at the bottom.
Beneath it was the date.
Victor knew Lorraine had died.
He remembered receiving an obituary notice and a formal update concerning her succession arrangements.
What he hadn't focused on was the medical timeline.
Now the accompanying verification summary made the inconsistency impossible to ignore.