James Whitmore, a real estate magnate known for his ruthless efficiency, rarely spoke to his employees except in brief commands. His empire of skyscrapers and luxury hotels spanned major American cities, and he had little patience for distractions.
At Whitmore Global’s private headquarters in Manhattan, the building’s doorman was Marcus Johnson, a former construction worker in his forties. Marcus had worked for the company for years, discreet and reliable, watching over the main entrance. A hard worker, but invisible—at least to the executives who passed by him each morning.
One evening, as James was leaving the building, he noticed Marcus with a girl of about thirteen. She was holding a stack of notebooks, her hair neatly tied back, her eyes bright and curious. Unusually, James stopped.
« Who is it? » he asked, half-distracted.
« My daughter, Alisha. I went to pick her up from school. »
James watched the little girl for a moment. Seized by a sudden impulse, he took a folder out of his briefcase: a contract in Spanish, sent by a partner in Mexico.
In a cold tone, he said to Marcus:
« If your daughter can translate this contract, I’ll double your salary. »
Marcus froze, unsure whether he was mocking her. But Alisha, intrigued, picked up the file. She ran her finger through the thick pages, then began to translate aloud with surprising ease. She explained the clauses on land rights, investment percentages, and partners’ obligations—as if she had been doing this all her life.
James raised an eyebrow.
— « Where did you learn Spanish? »
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