Even breathing felt loud.
People who were moments ago confident and wealthy now stood frozen, watching the screen like it might explode.
The employee’s fingers trembled over the keyboard.
She tried again to reset it.
Again.
Nothing changed.
The numbers stayed—endless, impossible, overwhelming.
The guard leaned in. “What’s wrong with it?”
She didn’t answer.
She couldn’t.
Her face slowly lost color, like all warmth had been drained out of her.
The boy’s voice broke the silence again.
“Just tell me what it says.”
Her lips shook.
“This account…” she whispered.
A pause.
Too long.
Too heavy.
“…owns the bank.”
A ripple of shock moved through the room like electricity.
Someone dropped their phone.
Someone else stepped back.
The guard froze mid-step.
And in the center of it all, the boy finally exhaled.
For the first time, he smiled.
