"Can I help you?" he asked, his tone dripping with practiced, hollow courtesy. It was the
kind of voice that said, Please make this quick so I can get back to my important life.
Elena smiled politely, her expression entirely neutral. "Yes. I'd like to deposit this."
She placed a crisp, white envelope on the counter and slid it toward him.
Andrew barely suppressed an eye roll as he picked it up. He opened the flap and pulled
out the slip of paper inside. It was a certified bank check. His eyes moved quickly across the
familiar layout of the document, expecting to see a sum in the low hundreds, perhaps a few
thousand at most. But as his gaze settled on the number box, he stopped. He froze entirely.
For a fleeting second, his face went slack. The amount printed on the check was
enormous. It was a number that didn’t make sense in the context of the woman standing
before him.
Then, the initial shock faded, replaced by something much more dangerous: arrogance.
Instead of looking impressed, or even confused, Andrew let out a short, sharp laugh. It was
a scoff, really, almost involuntary, the sound of a man who believes he has just caught
someone in an absurd lie.
But Elena heard it. The lobby was quiet enough that the sharp sound cut through the
low murmur of conversation. She didn't flinch. She simply looked at him, her dark eyes
locking onto his.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, her voice steady, betraying no emotion.
Andrew quickly straightened his expression, though a condescending smirk remained
playing at the corners of his mouth. "No. No problem," he said dismissively. He picked up
the check again, holding it up as if examining a child’s finger painting.
He looked at Elena’s faded denim jacket. He looked at her scuffed shoes. Then he looked
back at the check.
"Ma'am, are you sure this is yours?" he asked, heavily emphasizing the last word.
Elena’s polite smile vanished, replaced by a cool, unreadable mask. "Yes."
Andrew leaned back in his leather chair, steepling his fingers. He was enjoying this.
"I'm just asking because this isn't exactly the kind of check we see every day. Even here."
"I understand," Elena replied smoothly.
"And you received it personally?" Andrew pressed, raising an eyebrow.
"Yes."
Andrew’s smirk widened slightly. "From whom, exactly?"
Elena paused. She did not look away. She did not blink. "I don't believe that's relevant to
a simple deposit."
Andrew chuckled again, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. "I'm only
trying to protect you, ma'am. We see a lot of scams these days. People getting sent fake
checks, thinking they’ve won the lottery or inherited a fortune from a Nigerian prince."
There was something profoundly insulting in the way he said it. It wasn’t concern. It
was pure, unadulterated doubt. He was looking at her as if she were either incredibly
stupid or a criminal attempting an impossibly brazen fraud.
Elena slowly folded her hands in front of her, resting them on the cool marble of the
counter. "I appreciate your... concern."
Andrew looked down at the check again, reading the numbers aloud just to hear how
ridiculous they sounded in relation to this woman. "The amount is four million, eight
hundred thousand dollars."
Four million, eight hundred thousand dollars. The words hung in the air.
"That's correct," Elena said, her tone as casual as if confirming the price of a loaf of
bread.
Andrew let out another laugh, louder this time. It drew the attention of the people