The original agreement in Claire's sleeve contained the controlling signature pages. Its intact security seal was part of a chain-of-custody procedure arranged for that evening's emergency board review. A broken seal did not invalidate the contract, but it required independent verification before the pages could be admitted as authenticated originals.
Her general counsel, Naomi Price, called while Mercer coordinated with the ground team.
“Tell me the document hasn't left your hands,” Naomi said.
“It hasn't.”
“Did anyone see the seal before it was broken?”
“The gate scanner camera may have. The cabin camera certainly should have captured the aisle.”
“Good. Don't speculate about motives. Just preserve everything.”
Claire lowered her voice. “The woman who opened it works for Northstar.”
A pause followed. “What's her name?”
“Casey Holloway.”
Naomi exhaled sharply. “Her department submitted the disputed expense schedules.”
Across the aisle, Casey was arguing with Elena about whether a written statement was compulsory. Claire watched her carefully. Casey's outrage appeared genuine, but genuine outrage could coexist with an instruction delivered earlier that day.
“Naomi,” Claire said, “find out who put her on this flight.”
“I already have our compliance team checking.”
The call ended as Elena approached with a camera-equipped tablet. She asked permission to photograph the sleeve where it lay on the armrest. Claire agreed, provided that the original remained untouched.
Elena photographed the torn strip, the embossed cover, and the exposed corner of the first page. Mercer signed the digital record as a witness. Riley stood behind him, looking increasingly pale.
“Ms. Vance,” Riley said, “I should have verified your assignment before asking you to move.”
“Yes,” Claire replied. “You should have.”
Riley waited, perhaps hoping for reassurance. None came. Claire was not interested in humiliating her, but an apology could not erase the instinct that had made her treat an entitled passenger's accusation as fact.
Casey approached them abruptly. “I want my statement included. She threatened me with some ridiculous claim about owning planes.”
“You can provide your account,” Elena said. “But you must stop interrupting the evidence record.”
Casey's phone lit up in her hand. Claire saw only the first line of the notification before Casey turned the screen inward: DID SHE OPEN IT?
Casey typed quickly. NO. SEAL BROKEN THOUGH.
The exchange lasted less than two seconds. Claire did not pretend she could identify the sender, but she remembered the wording exactly.
Elena's radio sounded. “Station manager to gate team. Corporate security requests preservation of all boarding and gate-area footage.”
Casey stopped typing.
A distant mechanical thump echoed through the jet bridge. Another official had arrived, this one carrying a black hard case with a numbered tamper-evident lock.
Claire recognized the case. It belonged to the independent records examiner retained by the lessor.
For the first time since Casey had touched her sleeve, Claire allowed herself a small, controlled breath of relief.
The original could still speak. Now the question was who had wanted it silenced.
The examiner introduced himself as Victor Hale, a former forensic document specialist whose retirement had lasted precisely six weeks before corporate litigation pulled him back into airports and conference rooms. He placed his hard case on the empty seat beside Claire and showed Mercer his authorization letter.