Elena read the message twice.
Then a third time.
She hadn't disclosed any confidential figures.
Hadn't named the project during the discussion.
Hadn't shared documents.
She had answered a general question about international trade using concepts she could have explained in any university lecture.
Yet somebody was already trying to transform her fluency into misconduct.
She called Professor Ibarra.
Camila answered immediately.
“Elena?”
Her voice sounded tense.
“Professor.”
“Are you somewhere private?”
Elena glanced toward the restaurant.
“Yes.”
“Good. I need you to listen carefully.”
Elena swallowed.
“What happened?”
Camila took a breath.
“The independent reviewers have found discrepancies in the financial information supplied by the project sponsors.”
Elena closed her eyes.
She already knew some of that.
Then Camila continued.
“But that's not the problem.”
Elena stood very still.
“What is?”
“The sponsors' representatives are claiming the research team obtained confidential material improperly.”
Elena felt cold.
Camila's voice hardened.
“And somebody has specifically named you.”
For several seconds, Elena couldn't speak.
Then she whispered, “But I didn't do anything.”
“I know.”
The professor's answer was immediate.
“We have records of how the material was supplied, who had access to it, and what you were authorized to analyze.”
Elena leaned against the wall.
Camila continued.
“Do not delete any correspondence. Do not discuss the underlying documents publicly. And forward the legal message to the university's appropriate counsel.”
Elena nodded.
“Okay.”
Then she asked the question she'd been afraid to voice.
“Professor, could this affect my scholarship?”
There was a pause.
Camila's voice softened.
“We'll address any improper pressure through the proper channels.”
Elena closed her eyes.
For the first time, the full meaning of the dinner became clear.
Antoine hadn't merely embarrassed himself.
He had recognized a connection between the waitress he mocked and a research project that might threaten his company's financing.
And now people associated with his group were trying to make the research itself look improper.
Elena looked down at her uniform.
The white shirt.
The black vest.
The name badge.
For months, she had worn those clothes to earn enough money to continue studying.
She had endured rude customers because she believed the work was temporary and her education was leading somewhere.
Now the two worlds had collided.
And powerful men were trying to make her pay for knowing more than they'd expected.
Camila spoke again.
“Elena?”
“Yes?”
“Did you disclose anything from the confidential review tonight?”