"It already is a security matter," Amelia replied.
Webb frowned.
She glanced at Rodriguez, not accusingly. "Mr. Rodriguez, has your security policy changed recently?"
Rodriguez blinked. "No, ma'am."
"Does a customer asking for transfer assistance meet your threshold for removal?"
He hesitated.
Webb answered for him. "You're trespassing now because management has asked you to leave."
Amelia turned back to him. "On what basis did management ask me to leave?"
"Your refusal to cooperate."
"With what?"
He had no good answer.
So he shifted to authority.
"Carlos, escort her out."
Rodriguez remained still for a second.
"Sir, she hasn't threatened anyone," he said.
"I gave you an instruction."
"I understand, but-"
"Remove her."
It was the moment Rodriguez would replay later more than any other.
He knew the order was wrong. He also knew Webb had supervisory authority over branch security operations. He had a mortgage, two children in college, and a habit built over fifteen years of believing that refusing a manager's direction required a stronger reason than feeling uncomfortable.
That habit won.
He approached Amelia slowly. "Ma'am, I'm sorry. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."
"You're asking or ordering?"
The question was not hostile.
He looked at Webb, then back at her. "I'm being directed to escort you outside."
Amelia nodded once. "Then document that accurately."
The sentence unsettled him more than a threat would have.
He reached lightly toward her elbow. She moved before he had to grip her, allowing him to guide her three steps away from the desk. Another security employee moved in from the entrance, creating the visual impression of a formal removal even though Amelia was walking under her own power.
Phones lifted higher.
Sarah's live stream passed eight thousand viewers.
Amelia did not resist. She did not raise her voice. She did not demand recognition.
She simply stopped halfway to the doors.
"One phone call will clarify this," she said.
Webb laughed, though the sound came out thinner than he intended. "Your lawyer?"
Amelia opened her purse and removed her phone.
The case was plain black except for two small silver initials near the bottom: A.R.
"Someone who works here," she said.
She selected a contact and lifted the phone to her ear.