Arthur Sterling.
The founding patriarch, principal stockholder, and reclusive chairman whose family name was literally carved in two-foot-tall bronze letters above the building's front entrance.
Arthur looked at his grandson, then turned his cool, piercing gaze onto Kenneth, whose hands were now trembling violently at his sides.
"I decided to walk in without an entourage, Michael," Arthur said, his voice ringing with quiet authority across the hushed lobby. "I wanted to see how the frontline leadership of this institution treats ordinary people who walk through these doors."
Arthur pointed a steady finger at the scattered papers on the counter.
"Your branch manager here took one look at my coat and decided I was a criminal," Arthur continued. "He refused to examine legal securities, insulted my character, and threatened me with security. But more importantly, he reprimanded this young woman when she demonstrated basic competence and empathy."
Kenneth began to stammer, sweat beading across his forehead. "Mr. Sterling... Sir, please! I had no idea... If I had known it was you—"