The manager did not move. He leaned in just an inch, his voice dropping to a harsh, quiet whisper that cut through the soft jazz playing overhead.
“Sir, the system states the PIN was altered five hours ago, and the primary account holder removed your authorization at four fifteen this afternoon.”
The smile vanished from Marcus’s face so fast it looked as if it had been struck off. The air in his lungs suddenly felt thin. Four fifteen. That was roughly ten minutes after they had stepped into the elevator at the courthouse. Ten minutes after he had leaned over Simone’s shoulder and whispered that she didn’t know how to hold onto anything worth keeping.
“That’s… that’s impossible,” Marcus stammered, reaching for his wallet with hands that had suddenly begun to shake. “Use the backup card. The black business line.”
“We tried both cards attached to the corporate file, sir,” the manager replied, his tone growing firmer. “Both were updated with new security protocols today. The system is instructing us to retain the physical cards per the bank’s fraud prevention request.”
Julia stopped taking photos. Her phone lowered slowly to the table. “Marcus? What is he talking about?”
“Just wait a second,” Marcus snapped, his voice rising, drawing glances from a nearby couple dining on caviar. He pulled three different personal credit cards from his wallet and jammed them toward the manager. “Split it. Put three hundred on this one, three hundred on that one, and the rest on the third.”
The manager took the cards without a word and walked back to the terminal.
Marcus gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. His father-in-law’s face flashed in his mind. Arthur Vance—no, Arthur Miller. Simone’s father. A retired senior risk auditor who had spent three decades analyzing financial discrepancies for international banking groups. Marcus remembered the old man sitting in the back of the courtroom, quiet, observant, his grey eyes tracking every movement Marcus made. He remembered how Arthur had placed a hand on Simone’s wrist the moment the judge’s gavel hit the block, pulling her toward the quiet hallway near the clerk’s office.
Thirty seconds later, the manager returned. He set the three personal cards back down on the table. They were untouched.
“Your personal lines have a daily maximum limit of twenty thousand dollars each, Mr. Vance,” the manager said loudly enough for the surrounding tables to hear clearly. “The total balance remaining is nine hundred and ninety thousand dollars. We cannot release the jewelry, nor can we allow you to leave the premises until the bill for the consumed items is settled in full.”
Two security guards in dark suits moved quietly to stand near the exit of the dining room.
Julia stared at Marcus, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and sudden, sharp disgust. “Marcus, what is happening? Pay the bill! You said you got half the business!”
Marcus reached for his phone, his fingers slick with sweat as he dialed Simone’s number. It rang once, twice, three times.
Then it picked up.
He didn’t wait for her to speak. “Simone! What did you do? Undo this right now! You’re messing with legal accounts! My lawyers will have you in contempt by morning!”
