“I just want to see my balance,” the girl said softly.
The words felt out of place in the hushed lobby of Harrington & Vale Private Bank, where conversations were usually polished and confident. The space was carefully designed to project success—marble floors, muted lighting, and an atmosphere that suggested only certain people belonged.
The girl standing near the entrance clearly felt unsure. Her name was Lila Harper. She was eleven years old, holding a worn debit card and a backpack that showed signs of long use. Her jacket was thin for the season, and she clutched the card tightly, as though it carried more meaning than money.
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