"Bradley." Patricia's voice cracked with panic.
But Bradley was committed. He counted too far to back down gracefully.
His audience was watching. His authority was on the line.
"Mr. Mitchell," Amara said quietly. "I suggest you look at this screen."
The tablet displayed her executive dashboard, real-time bank performance metrics, board meeting schedules, regulatory compliance reports. Her authenticated CEO access credentials were clearly visible.
The lobby fell silent except for the soft hum of air conditioning and the distant sound of traffic from Michigan Avenue. Bradley stared at the screen.
His face cycled through confusion, recognition, and dawning horror. Sarah's live stream had reached 4,156 viewers.
The comments were erupting. "She's the CEO."
"They're so fired." "This is the best thing I've ever seen."
"Screen recording this for evidence."
At 3:18 p.m., three people in dark suits entered through the main doors. They moved with the quiet efficiency of lawyers arriving at a crime scene.
Ellen Rodriguez, chief of staff, led the group. Behind her walked General Counsel Maria Santos and Compliance Director James Wright.
The cavalry had arrived. Marcus Thompson immediately recognized Ellen.
His hand moved to his radio, but she shook her head slightly. The situation was beyond radio protocol now.
"Dr. Washington," Ellen said, her voice carrying across the marble expanse. "I apologize for the delay. The board meeting has been moved to the executive conference room."
Bradley opened his mouth, then closed it. No words came.
Patricia Cain had gone completely white. She'd worked for Heritage Bank for 12 years.
She knew exactly who Ellen Rodriguez was, and she knew that Ellen only appeared for the most serious situations. "There's been a misunderstanding," Patricia began weakly.
"Has there?" Ellen's voice could have cut glass.
Mrs. Roosevelt walked over to Amara. "My dear, I'm so sorry. This is not the Heritage Bank I've known for 40 years."
"Thank you, Mrs. Roosevelt," Amara replied warmly. "Your words mean more than you know."
The elderly woman looked directly at Bradley. "Young man, my late husband helped found this bank. He's probably rolling in his grave right now."
Sarah's viewer count had reached 5,243. Local news outlets were beginning to pick up the story through social media monitoring.
Three different Twitter accounts with journalists in their bios had requested to use her footage. Robert Hayes was still on the video monitor, but his confident demeanor had evaporated.
Someone at the regional office had clearly briefed him on developments. "Dr. Washington," his voice came through the speakers.
"I... There seems to have been a communication breakdown." Amara looked directly at the camera.