Chapter 548 Fake Black Card
The scooter pulled up at the entrance of the NYC Commercial Investment Bank headquarters.
Lily hopped off and teased, "Those women were totally gossiping about you, and you didn't even flinch. Guess you've really turned into that cool, collected type, huh?"
"Guess I'm just numb to it after Houston," Ryder shrugged with a sigh.
Lily flashed a thumbs-up, her eyes shining, "Impressive!"
As they talked, Ryder pulled the scooter over to the curb.
Just as they were about to step off, a bank security guard rushed over with a warning.
"No parking here," he barked.
Lily wasn't having it. "But there's a ton of cars parked right there!"
The guard pointed to a sign. "Sorry, miss. This spot's for bank employees and VIPs only. Move along."
When they didn't budge, the guard got cocky, "Take your little scooter somewhere else. This spot's not for you."
"Really?" Ryder said, cool as ever.
The guard scowled, "You think you're above the rules?"
"Actually, I am one of your VIPs."
If the rules can't be bent, then you crush them with clout.
Ryder pulled out the black card Scott had given him and held it up. "Now, do I qualify?"
The security guard's pupils visibly contracted when he saw the supreme black card.
He blinked hard, then broke into a mocking laugh. "Man, if you're gonna fake a VIP black card, at least make it look legit! This is comedy gold!"
He was practically wheezing, tears welling up. "You're the funniest guy I've ever seen! Last warning—this spot's not for broke folks like you. Beat it!"
With that, he turned on his heel, clearly done wasting time on the scooter duo.
This left Ryder and Lily staring at each other.
Lily asked, "Why's your black card got that gold trim? Is that the bank's ultra-exclusive black card? The one they only hand out to the top-tier customers, like, less than fifty people in the whole world?"
After all, to get her pet store chain from Houston to New York off the ground, Lily had done her homework on investment banks. She knew a thing or two about that legendary black card.
Ryder shrugged indifferently. "That's how it was when I got it! It should be an upgraded version of the black card!"
Indeed, Scott had referred to it as a supreme black card.
"Mr. Clark, you're full of surprises," Lily said, then her brow furrowed. "They need to know this thing's worth a hundred times more than a regular black card. Let's see if that security guard still has the guts to mess with us."
Ryder nodded. "Alright, you go grab a queue number inside. I'll park the scooter down the block and catch up with you."
"Aren't you angry?"
"Not really. If a dog bites me, should I bite the dog back?"
"Ugh, this is so annoying! I don't even wanna deal with this bank anymore!" Lily huffed, stomping her foot. Then she sighed, "But they've got the best rates and the easiest loans. Fine, I'll grab a queue number."
"Alright!"
After that, Ryder parked the scooter and returned to the bank.
This time, no security guard stopped him at the entrance.
However, once Ryder was inside, the previous security guard started telling the other guards, "See that? That's the poor guy I was talking about. Look at the oil stains on his shoulder; I bet he's a delivery guy."
Ryder didn't hear this.
Even if he had, he wouldn't have cared.
After entering, he looked around but didn't see Lily.
Seeing a sign that said "Investment Consultation Upstairs," he figured she had gone upstairs to handle business.
At that moment, a woman in a bank uniform walked over.
She had a good figure, wore high heels, and walked briskly.
"Sir, I'm Cynthia Saunders, the lobby manager. I noticed you didn't take a number after walking around the lobby. What business do you need to handle?"
Ryder thought, since he was at the headquarters of the Commercial Investment Bank, he might as well meet the bank president Scott had mentioned, Trevor.
So he said, "Your president is named Trevor Dixon, right?"
Hearing this, Cynthia was taken aback and scanned Ryder from head to toe.
But with Ryder's attire and the oil stains on his clothes, he looked like a delivery guy?
Cynthia couldn't associate him with a wealthy person at all!
Asking for the president by name, was he an idiot?
"Sorry, Mr. Dixon generally doesn't meet with customers. If you really need to handle business, please take a number!" Cynthia crossed her arms, looking arrogant.
Ryder reiterated, "Just take me to see Trevor!"
"Either take a number to handle business or leave! And Mr. Dixon is not someone you can address by name!" Cynthia's eyebrows arched high as she spoke.
Ryder spread his hands, "Or what?"
After saying that, he took out the supreme black card again.
He thought the lobby manager should recognize it!
Cynthia took the black card and examined it closely.
Suddenly, she threw it hard at Ryder's face.
Her red lips curled in anger as she snapped, "People these days even dare to fake black cards? This is such a cheap knockoff!"
Ryder's expression turned stone-cold.
Cynthia's voice was icy as she barked, "Security! Get over here! This man's forging our bank's black card. Grab him and haul him to the cops!"
Three guards rushed over at her command, looming in front of Ryder, their presence intimidating.
One of the security guards growled, "It's you again! Causing a scene after rolling up on that piece-of-crap scooter?"
It was the same guy who'd looked down on them earlier. He sneered, "I was gonna let you slide with that fake-ass black card, but now you've pissed off Ms. Saunders? Don't blame us for what's coming next!"
The three guards moved in, ready to grab Ryder.
Ryder coldly glanced at the three security guards, his eyes flashing with a commanding presence that overwhelmed them.
The three security guards were intimidated by his gaze and hesitated to move forward.
"What are you waiting for? Grab him!" Cynthia's chest heaved with anger, her face turning red.
Ryder's voice was ice-cold. "Don't do something you'll regret. Call your president. Tell him Ryder's here."
That stopped Cynthia in her tracks.
Mr. Dixon had warned her just days ago—a big shot might show up, and she'd better not screw it up.
Could it be… this delivery guy?
But no. Cynthia shook the thought off.
As the lobby manager at HQ, she knew every top player in New York City by heart. This guy wasn't on the list.
"Ryder, huh? You think dropping a name's gonna scare me? Security, cuff him and haul his ass to the cops!" With that, Cynthia spun on her heel and strutted toward the bank entrance, smirking.
Just then, a middle-aged guy in a pricey suit, gut hanging over his belt, waddled in!