Mr. Lam pointed toward the screen.
"My lawyer disagrees."
Whitmore's jaw tightened.
He looked toward his team.
"Find the damn file."
Nobody answered immediately.
Then Irene asked another question.
"Who prepared the bilingual supporting certification for Revision 19?"
Whitmore's executive named Northbridge Fiduciary Partners.
Irene examined the accompanying record.
For a moment, her expression changed.
She leaned closer to her screen.
Then asked, "Who is N. Bennett?"
Whitmore froze.
Mr. Lam looked up.
"What?"
Irene pointed toward an acknowledgment attached to the revision.
"The record attributes part of the comparison review to an analyst identified by these initials."
The room became silent.
Mr. Lam stared.
Then said quietly, "Naomi Bennett?"
Irene looked surprised.
"Possibly. I would need to verify the identity."
Whitmore's face had become pale.
Mr. Lam leaned back.
For a moment, he seemed to be reconstructing the conversation.
The waitress who claimed to have raised an alert.
The millionaire who recognized her name.
The revised schedule.
And an acknowledgment suggesting the same woman had cleared the document.
Mr. Lam looked toward Whitmore.
"Charles."
The millionaire didn't answer.
"Did your team tell me that the compliance comparison had been completed?"
Whitmore swallowed.
"Yes."
"And was Naomi Bennett part of that review?"
He hesitated.
"She worked on the file."
Mr. Lam's eyes hardened.
"Then why did she say she raised an unresolved concern?"
Whitmore looked toward the table.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Finally, he said, "She was a difficult employee."
Mr. Lam stared.
Then answered quietly.
"That isn't an answer."
The meeting ended without a signature.
Without a release.
Without the triumphant handshake Whitmore had expected.
Jade Harbor's team left the restaurant carrying the disputed documents and a growing list of questions.
Whitmore remained behind.
He stood near the windows with his hands clenched.
His gray-suited executive approached cautiously.
"Charles."
Whitmore didn't turn.
"What?"
"We need to speak with Northbridge."
The millionaire stared toward the bay.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he asked, "Who let her work that table?"
The executive blinked.
"Sir?"