A young black man with tattered shoes entered the bank to check his account. The manager laughed at him until he saw the staggering balance.

Chelsea, a teller, whispered that she was going to call security. Tristan dismissed her with a wave of his hand. « Let’s see what he does next. » He opened the envelope.

Then he saw the map. Black. Platinum. The highest level. His eyes widened. His laughter died away. Doubt crept into him. His prejudices fought against him, but the evidence was undeniable.

« Where did you get that? » he asked in a trembling voice. « A black kid with a Platinum Reserve card? »

Eliot’s voice was calm. « It’s mine. I didn’t steal it. »