After my husband threw me out of the house after our divorce, I took the old bank card my father had left behind and used it at a branch in the U.S., sending the whole bank lobby into a stir as the staff hurriedly called the manager over, and the words “Look at the name on this account!” revealed a family secret I had never known.

She handed over the faded blue card.

Kofi took it, turned the card over, frowning.

“Wow, ma’am, this card is ancient. This is our old logo.”

“Can it still be used?” Zelica asked anxiously.

“I’ll check, ma’am.”

Kofi took Zelica’s ID, matching the name: Zelica Okafor. He started typing on his computer. The system seemed slow. Kofi typed, clicked, and then frowned again.

“Huh. That’s strange,” he murmured.

“What’s wrong?”

Zelica’s heart beat wildly.

“The data isn’t coming up directly, ma’am. Our legacy system is sometimes a little slow. It seems this account is in an inactive or dormant state. How long has it been since there were transactions?”

“Maybe… twenty years,” Zelica replied hesitantly.

Kofi’s eyes went wide.

“Twenty years. One moment, ma’am. I’m going to try accessing the manual server.”

His fingers danced over the keyboard again. His computer screen flickered, showing rows of green code that Zelica didn’t understand.