"Everything you need."
He swallowed.
"I'll need to have someone verify this."
"That's fine."
Andrew picked up the phone.
But Elena noticed something.
His hands were shaking.
Not much.
Just enough.
And she wondered whether he was finally beginning to understand.
The woman he had assumed didn't belong in the building had not walked into Harrington & Cole by accident.
She had come because she owned something the bank desperately wanted.
And she had no idea yet how badly they were about to need her.
Twenty minutes earlier, Andrew Miller had been having a very different kind of morning.
He had been joking with another associate about clients who tried to "look rich."
Harrington & Cole attracted wealthy people from across the country.
Andrew had learned to recognize them.
He knew the difference between a $500 suit and a $5,000 suit.
He knew expensive watches.
He knew designer handbags.
He knew which cars belonged in the executive parking area.
And, over the years, he had developed an unfortunate habit.
He judged people before they spoke.
When Elena entered the lobby, he had immediately categorized her.
Ordinary clothes.
Small handbag.
No jewelry.
No assistant.
No security.
No expensive watch.
She didn't look like someone who had millions.
So when she placed a $4.8 million check in front of him, Andrew's mind couldn't accept what his eyes were seeing.
There had to be an explanation.
A mistake.
Fraud.
Maybe someone had stolen the check.
Maybe she was attempting some kind of scam.
Or maybe—
She had simply found it.
Andrew hated admitting that possibility.
So he laughed.
Now he wished he hadn't.
He walked toward the manager's office carrying Elena's documents.
Inside, Richard Cole, the bank's senior vice president, was reviewing reports with Marcus Grant, the institution's regional director.
Richard was sixty-one.
Marcus was fifty-four.
Both men had spent decades in finance.
Both had learned that money did not always arrive wearing an expensive suit.
But neither man expected what Andrew was about to tell them.
"Mr. Cole?"
Richard looked up.
"What is it?"
"There's a customer at Counter Seven."
"Problem?"
"Potentially."
Richard frowned.
"Fraud?"
"I'm not sure."
Marcus closed the folder in front of him.
"What happened?"
Andrew placed the check on the desk.
Richard glanced at it.
His eyes widened.
Then he looked at Andrew.
"Where did you get this?"
"Customer."
"Who is the customer?"
"A woman."
Marcus gave him an irritated look.
"Her name, Andrew."
"Elena Brooks."
Richard stared at the check again.
"Elena Brooks?"
"Yes."
Marcus stood.
"Did you verify the issuing institution?"
"Not yet."
"Then why are you standing here?"
Andrew hesitated.
"Because... she doesn't exactly look like—"
Richard's eyes sharpened.
"Like what?"
Andrew immediately regretted his words.
"Nothing."
Marcus walked around the desk.
"Let's go."
They headed toward the lobby.
As they approached Counter Seven, Richard saw Elena.
She stood calmly with her hands resting on the counter.
Andrew was beside her.
Richard noticed the folder.
Then he noticed the check.
Then he noticed Elena's expression.
She wasn't angry.
That somehow made him more uncomfortable.