The teller's heart was pounding. What's that?
Thatwas a premium black card. It was rumored that there were only fifty cards available nationwide. Black cards had a minimum of a hundred million and a limit of a hundred billion!
How on earth did a premium card end up in Pollerton ?
“Excuse me, Ms. Wilson. Are you the holder of this card?” the teller inquired.
As the card had been encrypted, she could not find any information about the card owner in the system.
Jennifer replied, “No, I am not. However, I am entrusted with this card at the moment.”
The teller then said, “Please wait a moment. Let me get my branch manager.” “Manager, please look at this,” the teller called out.
The branch manager was a middle-aged man over fifty years of age with a potbelly. He rushed over impatiently. “What's the hassle?”
“Please take a look at this, sir. I am not sure if there's a mistake in the system,” the teller replied anxiously.
The manager snorted and went to the back of the counter. As he sat down and checked the information on the system, his eyes widened in disbelief.
“Miss, this card isn't yours, is it?” the manager asked suspiciously.
She could only cash out a little over two hundred thousand after going through eight cards. She's definitely not rich. She can't possibly possess such a premium card.
Jennifer repeated what she had told the bank teller.
After the manager heard her explanation, he was still suspicious. “I apologize, but the origin of this card is still unknown. We have the right to suspect that you either found the card elsewhere or obtained it illegally. We will have to detain you.”
Jennifer began to panic. “How can this be? I told you, this is my card!”
“Please follow me,” the manager said. He led Jennifer into a meeting room.
When they were alone in the meeting room, the manager asked Jennifer calmly, “Ms. Wilson, do you have any idea what kind of card this is?”
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