The Last Heir

29. The Bank teller

It was our turn to speak to the bank teller. I didn't know why, but in that moment, I felt nervous like a cat on a hot tin roof.

It was as if the bank teller could read my face. Like a monster deliberating and inciting fear at a Halloween party, she frowned at me and asked.

"What can I do for you, sir?"

I didn't know what to say; my mind shifted from right to left and left to right like a wanderer in search of greener pastures. But of course, Mr. Harry came to the rescue, as he always did.

"This is Marcus Taylor, and we would love to visit the locker."

I could boldly see it written on her face. She recognized my name with that flinch she carried on her shoulder as well, but she tried to keep it to herself.

"Why does everyone seem to recognize the name Taylor?" I thought, but if the thought lingered for a long time, it was a lie.

"Come with me," the bank teller interrupted suddenly, directing her hands towards a path that led behind the counter table.

The bank teller was a lady who see