Naomi pulled something from inside.
Something that changed the atmosphere instantly.
Something Lauren recognized before anyone else did.
“Are you completely sure,” Naomi said quietly, holding it in her hand, “that you don’t want to check that list?”
Lauren opened her mouth to answer.
But the words never came.
Because what Naomi had just revealed was about to change everything that happened inside that cabin… 👇
The silver wings on the black credential caught the cabin light.
Lauren’s eyes moved over the embossed seal, then stopped on the line beneath Naomi’s photograph.
NAOMI WILLIAMS.
EXECUTIVE CHAIR AND MAJORITY OWNER.
For one suspended second, only the soft rush of conditioned air could be heard.
Then Lauren laughed.
It was a small, brittle sound.
“That isn’t possible.”
Naomi held the credential steady between them. “Why?”
“Because I would have been informed.”
“About the ownership transfer?”
Lauren’s face lost another shade of color.
A champagne glass clicked against a table behind her. Near the middle of the cabin, a young woman seated with the Raymond family lowered her phone into her lap, though the camera remained pointed forward.
Lauren glanced toward the cockpit door.
Naomi saw it.
So did the broad-shouldered man seated at the head of the Raymond family’s cluster. Victor Raymond set his untouched drink down and rose with the slow authority of someone accustomed to rooms rearranging themselves around him.
“There has obviously been a misunderstanding,” he said.
His voice was smooth, paternal, almost soothing.
But he did not look at Naomi.
He looked at Lauren.
“Call the captain,” Naomi said.
Lauren swallowed. “The captain is completing departure procedures.”
“Then interrupt him.”
“That would delay everyone.”
Naomi lowered the credential but did not put it away. “You threatened to call security because I remained in the seat printed on my boarding authorization. I think everyone is already delayed.”
A man near the window shifted uncomfortably.
Across the aisle, the woman who had been watching folded her hands over her handbag. Her knuckles had gone white.
Victor stepped closer. “Ms. Williams, if that is indeed who you are, perhaps this can be resolved privately.”
Naomi turned toward him.
“If that is indeed who I am?”
Victor’s jaw tightened.
The cockpit door opened before he could answer.
Captain Elias Grant emerged wearing his dark uniform jacket, one hand still adjusting the cuff. His gaze traveled from Lauren’s rigid shoulders to Naomi’s face, then dropped to the credential.
He stopped.
“Ms. Williams.”
He said her name without uncertainty.
A murmur passed through the cabin.
Lauren’s lips parted. “You know her?”
Captain Grant looked at her. “Every captain received the acquisition briefing at six this morning.”
“I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did.”
The words were quiet.
That made them worse.
He crossed to the service console, lifted the cabin tablet from its cradle, and tapped the screen. A notification glowed at the top, marked urgent and unread.
Lauren stared at it.
Captain Grant’s thumb hovered over the message. “It was sent to all active crew. Receipt was confirmed from this device at six twelve.”
“I must have pressed it by accident.”
“At six fourteen,” Naomi said, “someone using your crew identification opened the attached photograph of me.”
Lauren’s head snapped toward her.
The composure she had worn like a pressed uniform began to fracture at the edges.
Victor moved between them by half a step. “This is becoming unnecessarily theatrical.”
“No,” said the woman across the aisle.
Every face turned toward her.
She was perhaps in her fifties, dressed in a cream suit, with a faint scar crossing one wrist. She looked at Naomi only briefly before directing her gaze at Lauren.
“This is the part that usually happens in private,” she said. “That’s why it keeps happening.”