"Corporate security is probably laughing at your call right now," he said, but his voice lacked conviction.
Amelia checked her watch again. "Ninety seconds."
The bank's atmosphere shifted perceptibly. What had started as a routine customer service dispute had transformed into a public spectacle.
Sarah's live stream viewer count climbed past 10,000 as word spread across social media platforms. Webb paced behind his desk with a phone pressed to his ear.
"Yes, I need corporate security to confirm something. We have a situation here."
Chen pulled Rodriguez aside. "This feels wrong."
"Something's off about this whole thing."
"I know," Rodriguez replied quietly. "She's not acting like someone who's lying."
Thompson positioned himself for the best camera angle. His 40,000 Instagram followers were about to witness something significant, and he could sense it with the instinct of an experienced journalist smelling a breaking story.
"Folks, this is Marcus Thompson reporting live from Metropolitan Trust Bank downtown," he whispered into his phone camera. "We're watching what appears to be a case of banking while Black, but something tells me there's more to this story."
Webb finished his call looking slightly less confident. "Corporate confirms no VIP appointment is scheduled today."
"No one by your description has authorization for special access."
Amelia's smile was patient, almost maternal. "Did you give them my name?"
"I don't know your name. You refused to provide identification."
"You never asked for identification. You assumed I didn't belong here."
The distinction hit like a slap. Several customers nodded as Sarah's chat exploded with observations about Webb's assumptions and microaggressions.
Screenshots circulated on Twitter with hashtags gaining momentum. The clock read 2:59 p.m.
"Sixty seconds," Amelia announced.
Webb's nervous energy increased. "Sixty seconds until what?"
"Until your imaginary friend arrives?"
"Until you understand who you're speaking to."
Chen's tablet chimed with an incoming message. She glanced at the screen and froze.
The message was from regional vice president James Morrison: Emergency situation, downtown branch. En route immediately.
Do not escalate further.
Chen looked up at Amelia with dawning comprehension. "Marcus, we might want to reconsider this."
Her words were cut off by hurried footsteps in the marble lobby. James Morrison burst through the bank's entrance, his usually perfect appearance disheveled from running.
Morrison was a career banking executive with 23 years at Metropolitan Trust. He had climbed from loan officer to regional vice president through careful political maneuvering and absolute competence, and people did not see him run, ever.
His eyes swept the crowd until they found Amelia. Relief and terror crossed his face simultaneously.
"Dr. Richardson," he said breathlessly. "I am so incredibly sorry."
The name hit Webb like ice water. Chen's tablet nearly slipped from her hands as she quickly accessed the corporate directory.
Morrison approached Amelia with the reverence reserved for visiting royalty. "Please accept my profound apologies for this misunderstanding."
Webb's face drained of color. "Miss Richardson, I... I didn't realize."