“Because powerful people often mistake the person who points out a problem for the cause of the problem.”
Inés took out her phone.
Then sent Elena the message she'd already begun composing.
She didn't know whether it would be enough.
But she knew the young researcher might wake the next morning to discover that her job, scholarship, and reputation were being questioned.
And Inés was unwilling to pretend that the evening's events were simply a harmless misunderstanding.
Elena reached home shortly before midnight.
Her apartment was cold.
The radiator had stopped working again.
She placed her shoes beside the door, removed her service vest, and stood for several seconds looking toward the narrow bed.
She wanted to sleep.
But her mind wouldn't stop moving.
The signed wager.
Antoine's face.
The legal message.
Étienne's suspension notice.
And the possibility that her university might be drawn into a dispute with a company powerful enough to hire an entire team of lawyers without noticing the expense.
She sat at the desk.
Opened her laptop.
Then began writing a factual account of the evening.
She recorded the approximate time.
The names of guests she remembered.
The questions Antoine asked.
The Spanish answers she gave.
And the moment Inés identified her research connection.
She distinguished what she knew from what she inferred.
She didn't claim Antoine had committed fraud.
Didn't speculate about what Luc whispered.
And didn't describe confidential figures from the research files.
She simply wrote what happened.
When she finished, she sent the account to Professor Ibarra and preserved a copy for her own records.
Then she forwarded the restaurant's suspension notice.
Finally, she opened the message from Inés.
It contained a telephone number and a brief invitation to speak the following morning.
Elena hesitated.
Then replied.
Thank you for your concern. I have informed my academic supervisor and will obtain appropriate advice before responding to the legal notice.
She closed the laptop.
Then her phone rang.
Her mother.
Elena stared at the screen.
For a moment, she considered not answering.
Celia would hear the exhaustion in her voice.
She always did.
But Elena needed to speak with someone who knew her before scholarships, investment assessments, and expensive restaurants complicated everything.
So she answered.
“Mamá.”
“Elena, cariño. Are you home?”
“Yes.”
“You sound tired.”
Elena laughed shakily.
“Long day.”
Celia paused.
“What happened?”
For several seconds, Elena tried to answer.
Then she started crying.