Chapter 188 Is the VIP Card a Forgery?

Chapter 188: Chapter 188 Is the VIP Card a Forgery?

​The restaurant lobby fell into a heavy, suffocating silence.

​Veyra held the matte-black metal card firmly between her fingers, keeping it level in the warm lighting of the dining room. The silver crest and the finely engraved words—Bordeaux 101—gleamed clearly against the dark surface. She had kept this card tucked away safely in the inner pocket of her leather bag for weeks. She had never brought it out, and she had certainly never planned on using it for something like a simple lunch reservation. She had never needed to rely on it.

​Until right now.

​Victor Grant stared at the card in absolute shock. The nervous sweat on his forehead seemed to freeze in place, his face turning pale while his hands shook uncontrollably at his sides.

​"That is..." Victor swallowed hard, his voice barely above a raspy whisper. "That is an official Bordeaux 101 black VIP card."

​Veyra gave a single, firm nod. "Yes, it is."

​The owner’s entire attitude shifted in an instant. The faint arrogant slump in his shoulders completely disappeared, replaced by a nervous, submissive posture. His tone dropped into an soft, deeply respectful register.

​"I had no idea you were a personal guest of Mr. Wynn," he stammered, bowing his head slightly. "I am deeply sorry for the terrible misunderstanding at the front desk earlier. Please, allow me a moment to verify the card through our private security network."

​He quickly reached into his inner suit pocket and pulled out an expensive, custom black smartphone. He tapped the screen rapidly, opening a secure, high-level administrative application. The screen glowed with a dark blue interface, displaying the exact same silver crest that was stamped onto Veyra’s physical card.

​"This is the official Ravenwood Society security and verification app," Victor explained hurriedly, his voice trembling as he held the device up. "For high-tier black cards like this one, protocol requires me to scan the internal chip and match it with a live fingerprint scan of the authorized holder."

​Veyra felt her heart give a heavy thud against her ribs.

​She had never actually used the card since the day Wesley handed it to her. She had no clear memory of which specific finger Wesley had selected when he registered her personal data into his network system. She had simply stood there while his staff set up the profile, completely unaware of how the exact security checks functioned behind the scenes.

​"Please hold the card near the reader, and then place your finger on the scanner screen," Victor instructed, holding out the phone.

​Veyra hesitated for a fraction of a second.

​She looked down at her hands, her mind racing. Was it her left thumb? Her right thumb? Her right index finger? Or perhaps her left index finger?

​She didn’t know for sure.

​Trying her best to hide her inner panic, she raised her hand and pressed her right thumb against the lit sensor pad on the screen.

​The device held a steady scanning beam for two long seconds before letting out a loud, harsh electronic buzz.

​A bright red X flashed right across the center of the screen, followed by a bold warning message.

​Verification Failed. Biometric Data Unmatched.

​Victor’s brow furrowed in deep confusion. "That... that didn’t go through. Could you please try another finger?"

​A sharp, mocking laugh suddenly broke through the quiet air of the lobby.

​Naya Whitmore, who had been leaning casually against the frame of the private room door to watch the interaction, stepped back out into the open hallway. Her arms were tightly crossed over her chest, and her lips were curled into a cruel, triumphant sneer.

​"A cheap forgery!" Naya announced loudly, her eyes glittering with malicious joy. "I knew it! I knew a nobody like you couldn’t possibly possess a real black card from that level of society!"

​Veyra felt a sudden rush of heat hit her face, but she held her chin high. "It is not a forgery."

​"Oh, really? Then why did the scanner reject your fingerprint so fast?" Naya took a few arrogant steps forward, pointing a manicured finger right at Veyra’s face. "It failed because you are holding a fake piece of metal! You either stole it from someone or you had a cheap imitation manufactured to play pretend! Either way, you are an absolute fraud!"

​Naya’s sharp voice echoed off the high ceilings, intentionally loud so that every single customer in the main dining section could hear every word.

​"Did you honestly believe you could walk into a high-end place like this, wave a fake card around, and trick the staff into bowing down to you?" Naya laughed again, a harsh, grating sound. "You are truly pathetic."

​Veyra’s hands trembled slightly with frustration, but she forced her breathing to stay slow and steady. She refused to lose her temper again.

​"The card is completely authentic," Veyra stated, her voice calm and grounded.

​"Then prove it to everyone in this room!" Naya demanded, puffing out her chest.

​Victor looked thoroughly uncomfortable, his eyes darting anxiously between the sharp hostility on Naya’s face and the cool confidence in Veyra’s eyes. He looked down at the matte-black card, then back at his phone screen, wiping the fresh layer of sweat off his upper lip.

​"Ms. Whitmore, please let us remain calm," Victor said in a cautious, diplomatic tone. "Our biometric scanning systems occasionally experience technical glitches or read errors. A single failed attempt does not automatically mean the card is invalid."

​Naya’s triumphant smile instantly faltered, her eyes narrowing in anger. "What did you just say?"

​"If a biometric match fails on an active black card, our secondary protocol strictly requires us to place a direct call to Mr. Wynn’s personal office to confirm the holder’s identity," Victor explained carefully. "We are strictly forbidden from dismissing a cardholder based on an app error alone."

​Naya’s eyes widened in sudden alarm, the color visibly draining from her cheeks. "You are actually going to call Wesley Wynn directly over this?"

​"Yes, ma’am," Victor replied nervously. "It is the mandatory procedure set by the society."

​Naya’s face went through a rapid transformation, shifting from pale white to a deep, angry red before turning pale once again.

​The last thing she wanted was for Victor to bring Wesley Wynn into this messy situation. She knew how terrifyingly powerful Wesley was, and she knew her father’s political influence held zero weight in Wesley’s eyes. If the card actually turned out to be real, she would be completely humiliated in front of the entire restaurant, and her father’s campaign could face major backlash for her behavior.

​However, after making such a grand scene in front of dozens of high-society witnesses, she couldn’t simply turn around and walk away without looking like a coward.

​She clamped her jaw shut, forcing a cold, fake smile onto her face. "Fine! Go ahead and dial his office right now! Let us all see what he has to say about this fake card!"

​Veyra’s mind worked rapidly as she evaluated her options.

​She had been on the verge of asking Victor for a second scan so she could try her left thumb or her index finger, confident that one of them would register correctly. But before she could speak up, Victor was already pulling up his private contact list and tapping on a priority contact number.

​She considered interrupting him to ask for another scan attempt right away. She could easily offer her left thumb, her right index finger, or even her middle finger to clear her name instantly without troubling anyone.

​Yet, she noticed Naya’s sharp eyes watching her every single move like a hawk. The entire crowd of patrons was staring intently at her hands, waiting for any sign of hesitation. If she suddenly started changing fingers or asking to pause the process, Naya would immediately spin it as proof that she was stalling out of fear.

​So, Veyra remained standing perfectly still, her expression unreadable and serene.

​Victor placed the phone to his ear, switching the call to a low speaker tone so the dial tone resonated softly through the quiet room.

​The line rang once, the sound echoing in the silence.

​It rang a second time, sending a wave of nervous tension through the onlookers.

​It rang a third time.

​No one in the entire restaurant dared to make a sound, every single person holding their breath as they waited for the line to connect.