The silence from the phone was deafening.
When Richard finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, filled with pure, unadulterated dread.
“Victoria… where are you right now? What have you done?”
She couldn’t speak. She just let out a choked, wet sob.
“VICTORIA!” Richard screamed through the phone, the sound echoing through the first-class cabin. “The Carter Trust owns 68% of our voting shares! They can liquidate my position with a single phone call! TELL ME WHAT YOU DID TO THAT BOY!”
Victoria dropped the phone.
It hit the carpeted floor of the aisle with a dull thud.
Her legs gave out. She didn’t just sit down; she collapsed into seat 2C. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders heaving as she began to sob hysterically. The cream blazer she was so proud of was crumpled and ruined.
She wasn’t a powerful, entitled billionaire’s wife anymore. She was just a cruel b*lly who had finally picked a fight with the wrong person.
The passenger in row 3, the woman holding the iPhone, quietly said, “Got it.”
That video was already uploading.
The rest of the flight to San Francisco was a blur. Victoria didn’t move. She didn’t speak. She just sat in her seat, staring blankly at the window, tears constantly streaming down her face. Every time a flight attendant walked by, they completely ignored her.
Instead, they brought me hot chocolate. They brought Diane extra pillows. The head purser came out of the cockpit, knelt beside my seat, and practically begged for our forgiveness.
I just stared out the window at the clouds. I wasn’t happy. I didn’t feel victorious. I just felt tired. I missed my grandma. I wished she was sitting in 2B instead of Diane.
When the wheels touched down at SFO, the real storm began.
The second the cabin doors opened, we didn’t just walk into the terminal. We walked into a reception committee.
Three regional vice presidents of the airline were waiting right on the jet bridge. They were sweating through their expensive suits. They had seen the video. The entire world had seen the video. It had hit 2 million views while we were somewhere over Nevada.
“Mr. Carter,” the senior VP stammered, practically bowing as I walked off the plane. “We cannot express how deeply sorry we are for the horrifying treatment you endured…”
Diane didn’t even break her stride. She held up one hand, silencing him instantly.
“Save it,” Diane said coldly. “My legal team will contact your legal team by 5:00 PM today. Do not speak to my client again.”
We walked past them.
As we walked through the terminal, I looked back just once.
Victoria Whitmore was walking off the plane. There was no VIP escort for her. No one carrying her bags. She looked small. She looked broken. And when she looked up and met my eyes across the crowded terminal, she quickly looked down at the floor, unable to hold my gaze.
But the punishment wasn’t over. Not even close.