She handed him the card with nervous hands. The plastic was faded, its edges peeling. Daniel shook his head at the absurdity. A billionaire interrupted to check a street kid’s balance. A smirk curved his lips. He was about to make a sarcastic remark for his colleagues when something stopped him.
Emma wasn’t smiling. Her hands trembled. Her wide eyes absorbed every whisper, every judgmental glance. She looked like a tiny creature cornered in a room of golden predators. All she wanted was the truth.
“Let’s see what you’ve got here, kid,” Daniel said lightly, sliding the card into his private terminal. His fingers tapped the keyboard with bored efficiency.
The room seemed to fall silent, waiting for an error beep or a zero balance that would confirm everyone’s assumptions.
Then everything changed.
Daniel’s smile didn’t fade—it vanished. His brows furrowed. He leaned closer to the screen, squinting as if the numbers might rearrange themselves. He read them once. Twice. Three times.
They didn’t change.